visiting land of Folii. Poor, indeed, and most unhappy,
he who hitherward from the Flowery Kingdom wan-
dered, never to return. Unlucky shades of homeless
bones ! And yet there are such lying here. Long-
rows of significantly shaped sand heaps mark the rest-
ing-place of moneyless bones. Some have a board
with characters scrawled on it for a tombstone, but the
greater part of these graves are nameless.
With lumber at eight hundred dollars a thousand feet, buildings and bunks were made of dry-goods boxes, or cloth, though finally boards and shingles prevailed. By and by they undertook to grade the town, infelicitous to all but street contractors, for this left some houses all cellar ; others were perched upon fogg}' cliff, inaccessible except by scaling ladders; others looked as if their construction had been begun with the roof, and built from the top downward, lower stories being added as the dirt was taken away. At the door might sometimes be seen stationed a tub of water and a broom, with which before entering the visitor might wash off his big boots, into which his pants were tucked.
It was all for home — anything for a home. The semblance even was heaven after so long and barren homelessness. It is hard to overrate the influence of home. If we made it, it is part of ourselves, with the seal of ourselves set upon it. If we grew up in it, then we are part of it, and carry with us through life in our reflections, carriage, and conduct its good or bad influences. The landscape gives expression to our faces, the music of the streams attunes our childish hearts, our native air inspires our thoughts.
Homes are more open than in other countries, less private, but none the less sacred. There are few men or women so exclusive as not to be easily approached by strangers with any sort of credentials. Prying into each other's affairs, meddling, gossiping, discuss- ing the private relations of neighbors and friends, are not prominent vices. Scandal served up with appe-
