After passing Piedmont the region is less rugged and gradually falls away into a plain, dotted here and there with buttes of clay, some of them reaching a height of fifty feet, and in the distance resembling large buildings. Fort Meade and Bear Butte are on the right as we make a turn towards the west, then run south, until we enter Deadwood, which lies at the gnarled and bunioned feet of the Hills. We have scarcely been out of a cañon since leaving Hot Springs, but at Deadwood the granite walls that have become so familiar slope away until they become hills of slate and red clay, which have been denuded of their vestures of pine to supply fuel for the reduction mills. Through one of the last rifts in the walls that confine the track of the railroad a glimpse of Central City is obtained, several miles away, and a few minutes later we roll into the great mining town that is celebrated for its wealth, energy, golden prospects, and as being the place where Wild Bill was killed, and Calamity Jane broke the biggest faro bank in the settlement. Though Deadwood is only sixteen years old, few cities have passed through so many terrible vicissitudes. In 1876 the gold prospectors in the Hills were harried by Indians; then when the district was purchased and active settlement began, gamblers and shady women flocked to the place, considering that every honest person was legitimate prey, until the vigilantes restored order. Building was rapid, so that three years after the miners staked their first claims in the Hills, Deadwood had become a place of 5,000 inhabitants and was rapidly flowering into a great city. Then a dreadful fire broke out, which ravaged and swept the town, leaving scarcely a house uninjured, and nearly every citizen homeless. The loss was estimated at $1,500,000, but in its effects the loss was probably twice that amount. But with that courageous energy which characterizes western settlements, the people went to work to rebuild before even the embers had turned to ashes, and by 1883, Deadwood was a second time showing a metropolitan bud. She had emerged from the crucible, but fate had resolved that she should be subjected to another ordeal. Accordingly, the elements gathered their forces all around upon the mountains and in the gulches. For weeks unprecedented snow-storms bombarded the country and covered it to an extraordinary depth. Then the windows of heaven were opened and the rain descended. Day and night a terrific down-pour continued, followed directly by a flood that struck the town from every direction, and with irresistible might washed nearly every building from its foundation, leaving even small opportunity for the unhappy people to escape to the hills. But though the town was twice destroyed, the citizens lost none of their pluck, and before the cruel waters were fully assuaged they resumed the work of building again on the same twice stricken site, and have so