The Valley Virginian. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1865-1895, 1878-07-11
Until recently there has been only ore road

Until recently there has been only ore roat
leading from Cheyenne to Denver, Colara-
do, and the fare has been eleven dollars
but now road unites with the Union Pacif
ic so me eight miles west of Cheyenne
and the result OF the competition has been
to reduce the fare to five dollars.
When Clara Louise Kellogg came to Cali
fornia last year she wrote OF her trip: "a
stretch of hundreds of miles OF red tape
would be no more monotonous than is the
ride across the continent"
bow with all due reverence before the
wondrous voice with which Kellogg charm:
the world; but if she were an angel sent from
Heaven, and failed to see the grand beauties
Of the old mountains, would say she had
no poetry in her soul, no real sympathy with
nature. But suppose she made her journey
after the fashion of some of my own fellow
travellers. With curtains drawn closely across
the windows and heads on pillows they are so
engrossed in the fate of the heroine of the
novels they read that they do not realize
that we are climbing up into the Rocky
Mountains with some OF the grandest scene
~ before our eyes. pity such people. I
pity any one who goes stumbling and grum-
bling thro' this beautiful world with eyes
and ears Theoretically sealed.
Thirty-three miles west Of Cheyenne we
reach the highest point over which the cars
pass. The place is called Sherman. 1t is
S.242 feet above the level of the sea-a little
more than four-fifths Of mile nearer the
blue sky than the Peaks of Otter. The
stunted growth of the pines show that yege-
tation has hard fight for life here ; and 1
co not wonder, for, whether it be June or
January, the wind blows like mild man
nered hurricane, and is chilly enough to
have come from the embrace Of the Artic
seas.
For long time this was the highest point
reached by any railway in the world, but
roads recently constructed in South America
have made two crossings at higher eleya-
ton than Sherman, and ambitious Colorado
has put an iron road even higher than those
in South America.
A short distance from the station at Sher-
man are the graves Of several men who have
here found the bridge across the river called
Death. The sky bends down nearer to
them than it would were they sleeping in
yonder canyon-was the last journey short
er, or easier, Or swifter because of this fac t?
Two miles west of Sherman we cross Doll
Creek, over the highest bridge on the trans
continental road. The little stream winds
around among the rocks in the depths below,
looking so narrow and tiny we wonder why it
hasn't s'done loss ITSELF" But the silvery
thread is forgotten as we look down, down,
and wonder where we should find ourselves
II span of the bridge should give way, for
it isn'tthe sort of bridge to inspire conf
dence, though am told its appearance only
is against it, that in fact, no more reliable
structure is on the road. But it looks very
frail, stretching out six hundred and fifty
feet, across rocky ravine one hun dred and
thirty-two feet deep.
Once across ithe bridge look away to the
south and west. Feast your eyes on the
mountains, for you never saw their like be-
fore; not one long contin nous range, with
now and then peak running up as if for a
light house for the rest; but distinctly sepa-
rate ,mountafns, standing out against the
sky. clothed with their garments of overlas-
ting white. The very VIII iteness takes on
thousand hues in the light Of the setting sun.
The shadows begin to lensthen and take
shape until we almost fancy weird forms,
grown to gigantic proportions, are creeping
out to keep watch over the valleys when
night falls.
Now the sun, grown holder, has kissed the
topmost western peak, until it bushes and
CLOVIS and glimmers, sending forth thous-
and shimmerirg glances. Then, like tidngs
of great Joy, the golden sunlight spreads from
peak to peak, bathing them i'll a sea of glo-
nv, until a thousand eyes could not drink in
all their beauty.
AS beheld the scene, so wondrous in its
beauty, so beyond the power Of pen to pic
ture, I could but exclaim: "The everlasting
hills shall prase Thee, o, my Cod"
TRUFAX.
June 1st, 1878.