While one apart, with gentler heart, His still tears dashed aside, That he might trace a pictured face, At which he gazed, and died. On steep and vale, in calm and gale, Like music on the sea— Sweet slumber stole, within my soul, Beneath the camping-tree. A low-voiced tone, the wind hath thrown Upon my dreaming ear, Of ONE, whose smiles, and gentle wiles, Are still remembered here:— Of one, whose tears—where each endears The more the heart that wept— From swimming lid in silence slid, And on her bosom slept. A blue-eyed child, with glee half wild, In infant beauty’s beams, And lock that rolled, in waving gold, Came glancing through my dreams. Farewell to thee, my camping-tree; Till life’s last visions gleam, Thy leaves and limbs, and vesper hymns, Shall float in memory’s dream. CHAPTER XXV. CAUSE OF SICKNESS IN THE MINES.—THE QUICKSILVER MINES.—HEAT AND COLD IN THE MINES.—TRAITS IN THE SPANISH CHARACTER.—HEALTH OF CALIFORNIA LADIES.—A WORD TO MOTHERS.—THE PINGRASS AND BLACKBIRD.—THE REDWOOD-TREE.—BATTLE OF THE EGGS. SATURDAY, DEC. 2. I found Monterey, on my return from the mines, under the same quiet air in which her green hills had soared since I first beheld their waving shade. Many had predicted my precipitate return, from the hardships and baffled attempt of the tour; but I persevered, taking it rough and tumble from the first, and have returned with improved health. I met with but very few cases of sickness in the mines, and these obviously resulting from excessive imprudence. What but maladies could be expected, where the miner stands by the hour in a cold mountain stream, with a broiling sun overhead, and then, perhaps, drinking every day a pint of New England rum? Why, the rum itself would shatter any constitution not lightning-proof. I wish those who send this fire-curse here were wrapped in its flames till the wave of repentance should baptize them into a better life. I have missed but two things, since my return, from my goods and chattels—my walking-cane and my Bible; both have been carried off during my absence I hope the latter will do the person who has taken it much good: I forgive the burglary for the sake of the benefit. Prometheus was chained to the Caucasian rock for having filched fire from heaven; but no such fearful retribution awaits him who has stolen my Bible, flooded though it be with a higher light than ever dawned on the eyes of the guilty Titan. May its spirit reach the offender’s soul, and quicken thoughts that shall wander without rest till they light on the Cross, where hang the hopes of the world.