Though many of my old _camarados_ of the Mexican campaign found fresh vent for their energies in this new field of enterprise, for me it had no attractions whatever. I therefore resisted the solicitations of the Swampvillians to "jine thar company"--in which I was offered the compliment of a command. On that day, and at that hour, not for all the gold in California would I have forsaken my new home in the forest-- under whose "boundless contiguity of shade" sparkled, in my eyes, "a metal more attractive." Instead of longing for the far shores of the Pacific, I longed only to return to the banks of Mud Creek; and chafed at the necessary delay that hindered me from gratifying my wish. Even the generous hospitality of Colonel Kipp--amiable under the influence of golden dreams--even the smiles of the simpering Alvina, and the more _brave_ coquetry of Car'line--now become a decided admirer of my yellow buttons--were not sufficient to preserve my spirits from _ennui_. Only at meals did I make my appearance at the hotel--at all other times, seeking to soothe the impassioned pulsations of my heart in the dark depths of the forest. There I would wander for hours, not listing where I went; but ever finding myself, as if by some instinct, upon the path that conducted in the direction of the creek! It was some solace to listen to the notes of the wild-woods--the songs of birds and bee--for these had become associated in my mind with the melodious tones of Lilian's voice--to look upon the forest flowers; more especially upon the encarmined blossom of the bignonia--now to me a symbol of the sweetest sentiment. The one most prized of all, I had carefully preserved. In a glass I had placed it, on the dressing-table of my chamber, with its peduncle immersed in water. My zealous care only procured me a chagrin. On returning from one of my rambles, I found the flower upon the floor, crushed by some spiteful heel? Was it thy heel, Caroline Kipp? In its place was a bunch of hideous gilly-flowers and yellow daffodils, of the dimensions of a drum-head cabbage--placed there either to mock my regard, or elicit my admiration! In either case, I resolved upon a _revanche_. By its wound, the bignonia smelt sweeter than ever; and though I could not restore the pretty blossom to its graceful campanulate shape, from that time forward it appeared in my buttonhole--to the slight torture, I fancied, of the backwoods coquette.