The Evansville journal. [volume] (Evansville, Ind.) 1866-1870, 1869-10-04

ranov II is gratifying to see the
hr;eit and glitteriDg faces and hear
tbe merry chink of our old friends /.
long zone in the States. One feels +
thaf It is the reliable and normal cur
renoy of the country. after all.
The valley Of the Humboldt, down
which we passed all day yesterday,
has very little of attraction. Close
along the river, occasionally, are strips.
of brown meadows, which will an
swer the purpose of. grazing. The /
hills and distant ranges of mountains !
are such as we saw much Of in cross
ing the Eastern side and table lands /
of the Rocky Mountains, of such a
monotonous character as 30 grow !
tiresome. The valley is generally q
dry, desolate plain, with a profusion |
Of sage brush and scattering tufts Of
parched grass, and white with alkall. !
The dry sands Of the river bed drink
UP its waters so rapidly that where 1t
empties into Humboldt Lake, the
river is much smaller than an hun
dred miles above its mouth. As the
train passes along the wind raises the
dust. and the dry alkali powder fills
the cars, and makes the travelling at
times quite uncomfortable. One can
thus have a faint conception of the
privations of the emigrants and train
men in other days, whose trail down
this valley is seen from the cars, as
we hurry along.
We saw all along the road yesterday
the New World as represented In her
Oldest inhabitants, and the Old World
in our newest elnigrants-the Indians
- a
| first at Promontory. and are engaged
along the route still as roadmen. keep
| ing the track in repair. The Piutes,
among the lowest of the Indian tribes,
are scattered along In the mountains
of this region, and the squaws with
their pappoose swung over their
backs, followed by the older children.
| are at all the stations to beg crackers,
crusts of bread or remnants of lunch
| from the passengers. They are the
picture Of filth and degradation, and
are the nearest remove almost from
| the brute.
We were glad when night came to
hide the monotOnous scenery OF the
Humboldt Valley from sight, with the
assurance that the morning would
give us a welcome change In the as
peet Of nature. We were up with the
first breaking Of dawn to find our
selves near the summit of the Sierra
Nevada mountains, and surrounded
by lofty pines, the only appearance
of genuine JoreS's since we lett the
Missouri river, and We could give
them a hearty welcome. We were In
the early morning passing through
and near some Of the most charm
ing scenery of the Sierra Range,
and we can only catch glimpse of 1t
ere the summit is reached, and we
pass down on the western slope to the
Pacific. We barely catch a glimpse
of Douner Lake, that lovely gem of
the mountains, as our two laborlng
engines drag the long train up the steep
ascent; and now we enter the snow
sheds, and for many miles the mag
nifcence of Nature is shut out from
view, with only al occasional tantal-
izing glance, as we pass over bridge,
or from one shed or series to another.
The Summit House stands seven
thousand two hundred and forty-two
feet above the sea level, though by no
means the highest point of the noun.
tain range,
Coming down on the Western side
of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, after
emerging from the snow-sheds and
tunnels, the course opens out on some
most magnificent scenery. We are
amid the grand old pines, many of
them from one to two hundred feet
high, and some Of them, it is said,
being found as tall as three hundred
feet; the Summit peaks behind US;
the track climbing around the sides
of the mountains, seeming sometimes
to double its course; swinging around
the head Of the canyons with the Bear
and Yuba Rivers and other streams
far below US in the valleys. As we
pass along rapidly on the descending
grade, we observe numerous mining
bitches and fumes carrying large
and rapid streams Of clear, cold water
for mining purposes. Some have fall
en- into disuse. but many are still In
operation and are being proftably en-
ployed; and all along the road, away
in the mountains, we see the work of
the gold diggers. And so we pass on
amid mining claims, by the side of
large bitches, through the deep gravel
cuts, along the grassy hillsides, with
occasional glimpses of the North
Fork OF the American River, foam
| ing and dashlEg along In the narrow
gorge, near two thousand feet beneath
| us. This wild mountain scenery ap-
proaches the climax of its grandeur at
a point on the road half way down the
Sierras, called Cape Horn, where the
track is carried around the side of
bold promontory and across long and
| dizzy trestle bridges, to the mountain
on the opposite side of the
valley. 1t is useless to attempt
a description of the magnificent view
here presented, which is said to be
the grandest scene on the whole line
of the trans continental railroad.
Here, as in many other places in cross
ing these rugged mountains, the track
has been built up canyons and through
gorges where never man had been
able to find even a pathway, the men
who broke the first standing ground
being held by ropes until firm foot
holds could be excayated in the rocky
sides Of precipitous bluffs.
Our locomotive hurries US along,
and we are soon past the rugged noun
tains, and next pass through the foot
hills to the opening valleys and broad
| bottoms of the American river. We
have left the chilly mountain atmos
phere behind us, and as we begin to
feel the warming influences Of the
mild Pacific air, here we find our
selves in Sacramento, the capital of