Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1870-05-13
For the Oxford Democrat.
California Correspondence.

MARTINsBURG. BUTTE Co. CAL.
March %, 1870.
| To the Editor of The oxford Democrat:
In early childhood I formed IN attach.
ment for your paper which in maturer
ears did not diminish but increased, and
grew into love for tho dear old paper OF
my native homa, Oxford County. The
last mail brought it to our firesidc among
strangers, to gladden. our hearts by its
welcome and homelikc presence, and |
thought. to add lew lines TO its ever in
teresting pages in behalf of my adapted
State, might, although coming from my
feeble pen, be of some interest to its
readers.
The land in the Sacramento valley, is
generally smooth and level. although not
an unbrokcn plain, for occasionally n hill
rises up. and often large sloughs. which
in heavy rains are very inconvenient as
the water flows in from either the Sacra.
mento or Feather. often passing from
river to river. making tho roads which
they cross impossible. The land is very
rich and fertile. seldom failing to yield TO
the laboring husbandman goodly harvest
of corn, grain and vegetables. Large
crops of corn are raised upon the river
bottoms :" the high lands are adapted to
grain and grape culture, which is carried
on to some extent in this atty they
ale made into wine, which is common
beverage here, rs is also all intoxicating
liquors. Open bars arc kept, and the old
and young partake freely. When reflect
upon this state of affairs, my heart SYM
pa,hzes with the youth who left his home
with his fathers kind and gentle words OF
warning ringing in his ears-thc momory
Of his mothers fond tears deep-rootcd in
his mind, his inexperienced heart, as he
steps forth into the cold and unfecling
world. is bravcly beating with trusting
hopes and bright anticipations Of future
riches TO be attained in the "land Of gold"
This tempting and sparkling beverage is
set before him; the color is beautiful, the
taste is delicious: the first glass is taken,
and in the wine cup is drowned n fathers
earnest words Of admoniton the memory
of mothers sad tears linger no longer
except in delirous dreams. Many ofsuch
are among us now, mere skeletons OF their
former selves who will evidently fill
drunkards graves. But. with all these
disadvantages, California is indeed
beautiful country. Northeast OF us can
be seen the Sierra Ncvadas looking so
cold and cherries with their snow capped
tops towering high into the sky. Their
winter garb is folded closely around them
rs if TO mock the warm and genial rays
of the sun and bid defiance to the chilly
blasts and winter storms. The last range
lies West, and is also iceclad and cheer
less. Between the Sacramento and
Feather, rs if to change the monotonous
scenery rising in sublime grandeur from
the level plains. are the Butte mountains.
They present curious spectacle, and all
who gaze upon them can but exclaim,
How strange and yet how wisely done is
the work of God our creator! The flower
dccked valley lies beneath and around this
huge pyramid, which is forty miles in
circumference.
Operations have been suspended on
account of the rain for the space Of three
months, on the California and Oregon
railroad. but they have now resumed
labor, and the work is gong briskly on,
and soon we shall be in regular COM
munication by rail with the commercial
metropolis Of the Pacific coast. Tho
climate is salubrious and lovely, except
ing near the rivers, where there is a
tendency to mnlarious diseases. On sun
shiny days it is pleasantto to listen TO the little
strains of the tiny warblers as pcrched on
the green branches of the stalwart trees.
they pour forth song after song ofsweetesi
melody. Flowers of every hue and color
are peeping up from the green grass
those which l have tended with anxious
care in the east, grow here wild and I'M
cultivated, the blossoms even more beauti
full than those upon which lavished such
tender care. l plucked few by the road
side while returning from church, which
present to you as winter boquet.
Peach trees arc in blossom, and every
thing seems like early summer When
the songs OF the little birds arc hushed
and still, and the music Of tho day hath
died away, and evening, the time when
thought takes its widest fight. throws
her mantle o'orthe green grass and blush
ing flowers, the little frogs break in upon
the quiet hours and pipe merrily tho
musical chime, reminding me often OF
melting SHOWS and gurgling brooks, fond
recollections of cold winters flight and tho
return of gladstone spring at home
California is yet in its infancy. When
New England's energetic sons shall make
It their homes, and with their skill and