The Tipton advertiser. [volume] (Tipton, Cedar Co., Iowa) 1856-1962, 1869-12-16
THE sTRANGENEss OF CALI
FORNIA.

we make the Following cAIIaCtS iISH
DR.. Todd's very interesting and valua-
BILE Sunset Land. They tell, in an ex-
tremely graphic manner, facts which
are In themselves full of interest:
"How different in all respects from
our New England! Here the winds
hurry, and scurry, and change, often
many times q day; there they unchang-
ingly blow in one direction for six
months. Here the earth rests in win
ter; there they have no winter, and her
rest is in the summer. Here we have
storm, aud heat, and cold there they
have no storms or rain in sumner, and
only rain in winter. Here our trees
shed their leaves; there they wear their
vanished covering the year round,
while some of them, like the bronzed
madrona, shed their bark annually,
and keep on their bright, green, waxen
leaves. Here the woodpecker goes to
the old tree aud knocks and wakes up
the worm, and then pecks in and gets
him; there the woodpecker bores thou
sand holes in the great pine tree, into
each of which he thrusts an acorn, into
which the miller deposits All egg, .and
which the woodpecker calls and takes,
after it has become good-sised worm.
The blue jay is arrayed in strange
dress, and chatters in notes equally
strange. The lark sings in sweeter
notes, but they are all new. Here the
owl lives in the hollow tree; there he
burrows in the ground with the strange
gray squirrel, or in the hole of the
rattlesnake, or in that cf the prairie
dog.
Here the elder is bush; there l have
seen it a tree whose trunk is a foot in
diameter. Here the lemon verbeha is
a flower-pot plant; there it is a bush
niue feet high. Here the mustard seed
yields small plant; there it is tree,
often seventeen feet high. Here we
have few grape vines in y grapery;
there you will find five thousand acres
in single vineyard. Here you will SEE
a single oleander beautifying single
parlor; there you will find hundred
clumps in full blossom in a single yard,
amid what looks like shower of roses.
Here we make the Ethiopian calla
bloom in the conservatory; there it
blossoms in every graveyard and at the
head of almost every grave. Hen w
have the thick green turf on our soil !;
there they have no turf, and not dan
delion, daughter of the turf, grows in
California. Here the sun paints the
Here you see the farmer carefully hous-
ing his hay, and little patch of wheat;
there he cuts 40 hay except to supply
the cities, and reaps and threshes his
wheat in the fields, and throws the bags
down to lie all summer, sure that nei-
ther rain nor dew will hurt it. Here
you have scores of trees out of which
you make your tools; there you have no
tree out of which you can make wagon
hub or spoke, plow, a harrow, an axe
helve, or a hoe handle. Here every
thing is small; there the trees and all
the vegetable world are so large, that
you are tempted to doubt your own
eyes. K
You now feel that you are in strange
place; the ground burns your feet, the
air chokes and suffocates you. The at
mosphere is filled with the smell of
sulphur, nitric acid, and every other
disagreeable smell you can imagine. At
your feet boils out q stream of alum.
Perhaps two feet from that is another
of nitric acid, or EPSON salts, or soda,
or pure sulphur, or sulphuric acid, or
ammonia. Here is deep mouthed
opening up which is boiling a huge
huge volume of liquid as black as ink.
1t is called 1.-The DEVILS Inkstand."
The ink with which l ain now writing
this manuscript came from this ink
stand, and am using it just as it was
made there. A little above is the
"Witch's Caldron," perhaps seven feet
in diameter, black, boiling, spouting
and raging. Its depth is unknown.
@AA sASOo 0AS OoiiAuS, SleAAllHS uOl,
more than a thousand of these steam
holes are in this canon. On your left is
the "Stealnboat,' where, high above
your head, the steam spouts and roars
like the letting off the steam when the
steamboat stops. Thrust your stick into
the side of the hill anywhere, and the
steam will rush out, You seem to be
treading on the very borders of the in
fernal pit. What with the steam, the
heat, the smells, your head grows dizzy
And whirls, you pant for breath, and
you hasten to get out. But you must
stop at one more spot. 1t is called the
Devils Tea-kettle," where the steam
intermits, and sputters, and wheezes, AS
II groaning III chains. You stick your
cane into it, and whew! it roars and
sputters like huge cat when a strange
dog comes into the room. You almost
expect to see the horns of the Evil One
thrust up next. The place is SO strange
that you want to stay longer, but feel
that it would kill you. You can COM
pare it to nothing but hell. 1t is called
the "Pluton Canon" In the cool