Dan Marble was once strolling along the wharves in Boston, when he met a
tall, gaunt man, a digger from California, and got into conversation
with him about that wonderful State.
"Healthy climate, I suppose?" inquired Dan.
"Healthy? Well, I reckon I should say so, stranger. Why, d'ye know, out
there you can choose any kind o' climate you like, hot or cold or mejum,
an' that, too, without traveling more'n fifteen minutes. They've got
weather on tap out there, so to speak, sizz or frizz, accordin' to taste
an' preference. There's a mountain there--the Sary Nevady, they call
it--one side hot an' one side cold. Well--get up on top o' that mountain
with a double-barrel gun, an' you can, without movin', kill either
winter or summer game, jest as you wish."
"What! And have you tried it?"
"Tried it often, an' would have done some remarkable shootin', but jest
for one thing."
"And what was that?"
"Well, I wanted a dog, you see, that could stand both climates. The last
dog I had froze his tail off pintin' on the summer side. He was on the
Great Divide, you see, nose on the summer side, tail on the winter side,
an' his tail froze right off before I could shoot."