Lyon County times. [volume] (Silver City, Nev.) 1874-1907, 1874-07-14
THE LYON COUNTY TIMES
ON THE CARS.
IFoR THE LYON COUNTY TIMEs.l

with the rapidity of locomotion, the
diversity of scenery, and variety OF
landscape, which one experiences
and sees on the cars from San Jose
to Virginia City, how vivid would
be the sketch and how brilliant the
pen picture. If, to writer, as to
the painter, were given to portray in
living colors the voluptuous valley
of Santa Clara, with its teeming
fields, its white-painted farm-houses,
its empowering orchards, its stately
mansions, its lawns, parterres and
fountains-how the page, like the
canvas, would glow with the beauty
of rural scenery, warmed into life
by cloudless and sunny skyl But
the pen is not the brush, and the
locomotive is not stage coach. We
can but glance at the receding piano.
rama, and dot down in memory's
tablet a spot here and there
stream on the right, grove in the
distance; the lazy kline, the bleating
ewes, the narrowing noll, the jutting
mountains, ere we are whirled into
another valley-a prairie-vast, tree
less, expansive, scorched iii is mid
summer) scorched and inhospit-
able. 1t is the famous Joaquin.
Wonder is the sluggish river of the
same name-yellow as stained SAT
from, unkempt as a drunkard after
last nights debauch, and dirty and
bedraggled as a female sot. The
turbid stream seems ubiquitous, and
the sickened eye turns for relief
unavailing hope-to the white, inter-
minable, lifeless plain, where the
only living thing is here and there
a wandering WAGNER, creeping
along and whipping his torpid
mules. How hang the lazy hours;
how clog the wheels of locomotion.
But at last the engine snorts, she
pants and labors. The noble thing
has spurned the dead sea-level of
the joaquin, and is climbing up
yonder mountain; she will soon be
careering on the Sacramento Valley,
disporting through living plains,
and whistling her way through
friendly hooks and human habita-
tons. But, heavens, how hot
Very" says my vis-a-viS, reposing
on his cushions without another
word. The iren horse is taking
kindly to the road; we spin along
cheerily; Sacramento is sighted; my
Vts-a-0ts opens his eyes. "That is
the hospital" "And that ?" "That, |
sir, is the Capitol" "Iced claret,
,eh ?" A nod of assent and a smack |
of ones lips. The station! Whew,
what an uproar! Bedlam broke
lose, and the jargon Of ten thousand
bedlamites "Carriage, sir; car
riage." "Want a carriage?" But
we scent the stalls, and rush for re-
freshments. The whistle, the bell,
"All aboard" and away once more
we go. IT'S a noble demesne; the |
forest culture is Natures own handi- |
work; and so for miles, all the way |
to Auburn (the loveliest village of
the plain.) The scene is changing.
The force betoken proximity to
mountains. The lofty pine, the |
hardy palm; these belong not to
lowland regions. We are, in fact,
dashing against the foothills. These
rise gently, carefully, solidly, like
the broad and deep foundations of a
fortress, as if conscious of the
mighty weight of mountains they
have to sustain-these Sierras that,
when the world was young, were
upheaved, as biologists say, on the
crest of pillows that roll on the
bosom of an igneous ocean, which,
in the economy of our planet, is in
crusted by the earth-skyward and
onward, snoring and numbering,
CALAMITY climbs our iron horse, here
and there hating to drink and
breathe, and off again; and so to the
Summit. The broad moon glares;
the stars are blazing; how awful and
profound are the gorges below! The
noble steed is halted and is refreshed,
and away as before on his journey.
We are now passing through silver
region, behold a stream of silver
issuing from the mountains thou
sand feet below! No, it is the Car
son river, cleaning and glistening
in the moonlight! The hours like
the journey, are rapidly speeding;
night is receding before the coming
dawn. tho "a storm Slv is diSSOlVinp