Daily Los Angeles herald., 1879-02-18

or the dead Workman, or
some other of the grasping
dead who are rotting in four by
seven, six feet deep. We would
make these dead monopolists turn
over in their graves, and their liv-
ing heirs groan at our estimate of
their wealth, as indicated by their
tax bills. We hope the Working
mems party of Los Angeles will
elect an Asses ssor who will tax lands
equally, and not discriminate
against the Industrious owners of
small acres that are highly inn
proved.
We went to the frort-the rail-
road front-where in the midst OF n
great desert two thousand men are
at work track'laying. On cur way
we cross the Colorado Desert. FOR
what purpose God made it is one Of
those mysteries which have so FAR
proved past finding out; so utterly
barren, so apparently worthless, so
dreary and desolate, so scorched
with o blazing sun, so blistered
with burning winds. The rocky
hills that bound it are more forbid
ding than the dreary desoiation of
the sandy plains. The hills are
absolutely destitute of verdure-
treeless, soilles, colorless. Though
the centre of the plain and parallel
with the railroad, runs mountain
range of shifting sand, like snow
piled up in banks, drifting and
moving with the winds. The plain
is not entirely destitute of vegeta-
tion, but the vegetation is as
worthless as the sand in which it
grows. There runs midway between
San Bernardino and Yuma one
small, beautiful stream of clear,
sweet water, properly named the
"Whitewater,n but along its pebbly
margin there grows not a flower,
shrub nor tree. This beautiful
stream in the desert suggests the
irreverent reflection that this part
of creation is Il badly planned and
badly executed work, rejecting
but little credit on the Divine
Mechanic who spake it into eXis-
tence. The mountains should have
been clothed inFprimal forests; the
plains should have been grassy
medows. Along the hillsides should
be leaping cascades of sparkling
water; brooks winding amid flowers
and grassy banks, fruitful land,
where fat kline, lowing herds, bleat-
ing flocks and singing birds, ming
ling their voices with the thanks
giving of wellfed humanity,
should be constant psalm of
alteration to Him who must ever
lack an altar in the desert of the
! Colorado.
The distance by rail from Los
Angeles to Yuma, upon the Colora-
do river, is 24S miles. The distance
from Yuma to Maricopa Wells, in
Arizona, is I60 miles. The rail is
now within 25 miles of Marieopa
Wells, and track Is being laid at
the rate of ten miles each week.
Two and one quarter miles were
laid the day we were at the front.
The land is level and hard, requir-
ing only the removal of chaparral
and shrubs and the smoothing
down of small hillocks for the iron.
1t is an inspiring scene to witness
this moving camp Of railroad build.
ers in the desert, disciplined like ar
army, and marching slowly east.
ward at the rate of ten miles s
week, leaving behind them tht
iron highway that is to bear upol
its roadbed vast commerce in th'
future. Two thousand men, will
their camp and equipages, thei
tools, implements of labor; grea
engines bearing trains heavil.
laden with ties, rails, straps ant
spikes; blacksmith shop, II board
ing house. Sisson, Wallace & Co.
store, the private car OF Mr.. Strow
bridge, alton wheels; great struc
lures piled with forage for the cat
tie, great tanks filled with waite
, for the horses and mentor ther
. is no water in the vicinity of tn
( present work-great wagons haul
! ing forward supplies, great plow
! with six-horse teams, scrapers wit
. two horses, aXe.men cutting
| shrubs, bias-eyed barbarians witt
shovels, Briarean-armed, pitching
the sand in and out as cut and fiji
, demand. In advance, fifteen mile
, from the track, men are gradin,
r the road, and gangs, under the di
, rection of Seth Green, with hi
steam pile-driver, are building
bridges and culverts of solid tim
bers. Little groups of amazed In
dians-bucks and squaws-look OF
as interested spectators of the move
work that invades the privacy o
their desert homes, enjoying tn,
up and down rides upon the con
struction trains, upon all of which
they are deadheads, in spite of th'
law against passes. At the front il
q village Of tents, and at the las
point of accepted work there
springs up temporary village,
with its saloons and boarding
houses, its board and canvass hells
for gin and dice. 1t is u marvellous
scene, this caravan crossing the
desert. 1t is busy one by day. II
is q romantic one upon moon
light night, when sleep and silence
cover the tired workers, and all,
save Strowbridge, the constructor,
lay them down to rest. He never
sleeps. No idlers in his camp; no
whisky, no noisy disputes. Every
man has something to do, and
the rear. The telegraph pole and
electric wire keep pace with the
rail, and the front talks with the
home office in San Francisco every
night and morning.