208 MULE-HUNTING EXPEDITION. 
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related such wonderful stories, that it seemed 
to me we had hardly left the ‘Halfway House’ 
ere we rattled under a grove of trees completely 
shutting out the fading light, and pulled up with 
a sudden jerk, that weil-nigh pitched me over the 
mustangs. ‘Guess we’ve made it, Cap’en; this 
here’s the manager’s.’ 
Giving my letters of introduction to Mr. 
Young 
oO) 
a hospitable invitation to be his guest 
was readily accepted. I cannot help devoting a 
line to the praise of a house most enjoyable in its 
minutest details, with a host and hostess it re- 
freshes one’s heart to recall to memory. 
The lower village of Almaden consists of a 
long row of very pretty cottages, the residences 
of the workmen employed in smelting the ore ; 
each cottage was completely buried with honey- 
suckle and creeping roses; the gardens in front 
filled with flowers, and at the back with vege- 
tables and fruit. A small stream of water, clear 
and cold, ripples past the frontage, brought from 
a mountain-burn that runs swiftly at the back, 
a barrier dividing the gardens from the sur- 
rounding hills. An avenue of trees leads from 
the cottages to the spacious brick buildings used 
for smelting. 
The discovery of these fabulously rich mines of 
