My habitation is upon the plateau of a mountain in California. I entered this region and became a settler by a fortuitous event. About thirty-five years ago, I took a summer outing from a close application to business in the metropolis, and came here for a deer hunt. One of those beautiful animals that I had wounded with my rifle led me further into this wild and picturesque locality than I had intended to go, and I thus arrived upon this spot, as I believe, the first white man that ever set foot upon it. Reaching here late in the afternoon, I found myself too far out of my path to return by daylight, and so, building a fire, I spent my first night alone in this weird place. It was the first time in my life that I had slept where some human creature was not within the sound of my voice, and from that night I date a change of sentiment, thought, and feeling, which has altered my career, and made me, what I have chosen to be, a recluse.

I had been living in the world about thirty years amid the artificial surroundings of a city. I had scarcely looked upon the sky and heavens, except between the margins of opposite house-tops. I had viewed from infancy, without emotion, the rising and setting of the sun from a horizon of chimneys and steeples; and when these exhibitions first presented themselves to me here in this crystal atmosphere, with an expanse from this altitude so new to me, they appeared like a revelation. I seemed to have been suddenly ushered into the world, and to be looking for the first time in my life upon the stupendous phenomena about me.

Until this moment I had not approached a realization of the magnificence and prodigious wonders which the heavens afford to our observation. It was here also that I began for the first time to enjoy those beautiful and curious processes of nature, where the bursting germs, ascending gradually out of the soil, change their shapes, multiply their organs, and after a time crown themselves with brilliant and deliciously flavored flowers. In my new observation and intimacy with plant growth, with some previous knowledge of the science appertaining to it, and with a newly discovered delight in marking the changes of position and the characters of the heavenly bodies by the greedy acquirement of all the information within my reach, I have come to forego, without regrets, the social pleasures of life.

By the liberal laws of my country, I have become possessed of this attractive spot, and thus far, I have chosen to retain it in its natural state. I came here a young man. I am now old. Thirty-five years of my life have been spent on this elevation, with a self-banishment from society, without in the least abating my interest in human affairs. My communication with the world is mostly through books. A weekly newspaper or two, and such other publications as I may order, are left for me in a hollow tree several miles away by the district messenger; and thus no important event or new discovery in the world escapes me.

I have constructed with my own hands a cabin, having much convenience and comfort, and also some outhouses, which shelter my poultry and a pair of gentle cows, which latter, finding abundant food in the natural grasses about, come to me regularly at milking time, seemingly as much for the pleasure of being caressed, as to furnish me the principal nourishment of my life.

There is a trout steam in the center of my possession, with expansions here and there, which serve as bathing places for myself, and out of which pure and cool drink is supplied to the few domestic animals about me. This stream makes its way through the bottom of a hollow, and is so overhung by the lofty branches of trees which grow upon its borders that the sunlight only enters in patches, and is so reflected by the restless surface of the water as to mark its devious way with the appearance of a line of flashing mirrors. The surrounding dense body of foliage, from at least a hundred varieties of trees and shrubs, is tinted with a variegation of color seldom seen outside the tropics. This charming spot has its voices, as restless as the lights and shadows which play about within. Each miniature waterfall has its liquid note; while during certain hours there comes from every quarter of the foliage above a confused melody of birds, who, I have reason to believe, assemble there for entertainment and gossip.

Outside of this watered region, my homestead is interspersed with openings, where the rich loam only awaits the labor of cultivation to produce a wealth of grain or fruit. Every tree and shrub within my possession of half a mile square, by long familiarity, seems to have become a part of myself. We are living and ageing together. I have watched in them the development of infancy, the slow and gradual approach to youth, and the turning point from maturity to old age. Among these old monarchs of the woods is here and there one tipped with the signs of superannuated decay. About their feet lay many of their withered, sapless limbs. They have lost their symmetry, and stand in scraggy outline. I see from year to year their gradual giving up of life, while beside them a new generation arises. There is a fellow feeling between us. My hair grows thin and white and my step is no longer firm and elastic. Like them my share of life is growing to a close, and yet I am an infant in years compared to many of them. I bow to them with a sentiment of reverence. They are my old men. The younger ones are my children—mine! What a grand thing it is to have these in my possession,—to hold in my own right such a choice piece of this blossoming earth, where all the mysterious forces are at work day and night for me alone!

I have come also to have an abiding interest in the creatures who by nature are inhabitants of this place. Long ago have I laid aside my gun as an instrument of destruction, and it rests now on its pegs above my pillow only as a defense. By slow degrees I have gained a confidence with the native birds and animals which surround me, so that it is wonderful how many of them welcome me and enjoy my presence. There swarm to my poultry fold at feeding time myriads of quail and other birds, who with an amusing assurance, run about my feet and dispute for the crumbs that I scatter. The gray squirrels may be often seen scampering down from their hiding places in the trees to meet me, in expectation of their accustomed relish of wheat grains, which are stowed away for them in my pockets. I have three pet deer, quite tame and domesticated, whose intimate acquaintance was brought about in a singular way. Sitting on my doorstep one bright afternoon, I had listened for some time to the baying of hounds in the neighboring mountains, when presently there came bounding toward me, in terror, a trembling doe, and with her beaming eyes fixed upon me, seeming to invoke my pity, she literally threw herself into my arms. Taking in the situation at a glance, I tried to force her into my door before the dogs arrived. Too late for that, I could only arm myself with a stick from my woodpile, when the whole yelping pack were upon us. It was a hard fight, and only after many bites and scratches from the disappointed hounds did I beat them off. I kept her in a secure outhouse for a few days, where two beautiful fawns were born to her; and ever since the mother and offspring have been my favorite pets, following me about like children. My acquaintance with other of the creatures about, though not so intimate, is still of such a confidential kind that they manifest no terror at my approach, and I am thus enabled to realize, by this free exhibition of them, how teeming with animal life is the earth in its most favored parts.

In my earlier years I have felt the cold blasts and torrid heats of other climes. I now rest myself in the happy satisfaction that I have found in this equable temperature and agreeable surroundings a place where one may look upon life as a blessing. I have acquired enough knowledge of some of the sciences to make an instrument or two of service to me, and I take especial interest in my telescope of three inches aperture, in the use of which I spend many an hour which otherwise might hang heavily on my hands. I have also a good microscope and field glass. Through the latter I bring to view the distant hillsides and mountain tops, observing, frequently, groups of deer grazing tranquilly, and at times a family of panthers gamboling on the green carpet of an opening, or an eagle feeding her young upon the inaccessible brink of a precipice; and on rarer occasions, a bear complacently munching acorns under some prolific old oak a mile away. My microscope has revealed to me a world of wonders. I have discovered by it the limitable range of our senses, and how far below as well as above us the infinite extends. I grope about in the darkness of my understanding between an atom and the outside limit of the stars, every step toward either showing an increase of distance. These things I pursue, not with the spirit and application of a student, but rather for the entertainment which they furnish and the meditation they invoke. I have learned all that is known of the motions and eccentricities of heavenly bodies within my telescopic vision, and I never look upon them without rapture. What are all other shows to this? How many of these countless worlds are inhabited? What beings are upon them? How do they compare with us? Has it been given to them to comprehend eternity? Is knowledge with them intuitive or acquired? Thus do I lose myself in these bewildering fancies.

It may appear that I have avoided my share in the cares and duties of human association. If I have, it is from no lack of sympathy with my kind. I look upon my fellow-men from my distant and somewhat isolated point of view, without the usual diversion of active affairs, and both my pity and admiration are aroused. The sufferings and sorrows of my kind seem appalling to me from this position, while their heroism in the struggle for knowledge seems to me grand beyond expression. I feel myself in the midst of civilization, and yet apart from it. If I have been a loser from that lack of social attrition which arouses the activities of thought, it is, nevertheless, certain that I have not been submitted to a combination of those influences which render an error plausible. The opinions and thoughts of the world come to me, and I pass them in review with a full sense of the fallibility of individual opinion, as well as an abiding faith in the steady approach of that collective truth, which, sooner or later, will overspread the world.

THE MAN FROM MARS.