Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1892-08-05
ACROSS THE CONTINENT.

"YOU'LL see the snow In the morning,
said the lawyer-miner as we retired on the
edge Of Montana. The day had been
dry and dusty, the coach temperature was
moistenfng the cuticle, and the suggestion OF
winters chief product at the beginning OF
July was comforting. So the thought OF the
snow was the alarm clock that aroused me
with the dawn. shot up the blind from the
broad pane and gazed over space to
where some white blotches lay be-
tween the deflles and upon the slopes
of black-brown pinnacles that, wedge
shaped. penetrated the horizon. Soon the
sun crept over the crests and their silvery
heads grew more and more distinct-closer,
but miles upon miles away. And down at the
deep-green, grassy feet of the bleak giants
red, deep-dyed red, and yellow and blue
wild flowers, fed by untainted waters, held
up their dewy heads. And over the valley
the snow-washed breeze-dry, invigorating,
ife-sustaining-swept on to another range
and pushed aside the mists that hung over
its white-capped peaks. And the morning
picture was prettier than the work of any
painter. And in the Observation-Disclosures of
the scene spring, summer and winter were
rolled into one And in the majesty of the
hills came the thought of the ittleness Of
human existence.
THE snow was a constant companion
thereafter to the Pacific. The sight of it
was grandest when, after spending a night
and nearly the whole of a day over a cheer
less sandy waste, huge mountain-white,
so white as to be like unto a part and parcel
of the feecy clouds that swathed its
summit-loomed up far ahead. The late
afternoon was clear, and the eye could take
in long stretches that brought the buttes
and the foothills close to the range of vision.
There, 260 miles away-so knowing ones
averred-snow-draped, rugged, grand old
Mt. Rainier. the pride Of two Washington
cities and the peak of peaks of the new
Coast State. poked its pure head into the
very blue. Only the eye alone can see
and the mind alone can contemplate the
sublime grandeur of such long distance
view Of this magnificent mountain of unde-
filed snow.
When you go to Washington, the home of
several snowy peaks and living glaciers, and
should you be in Tacoma, call this white
monster Mt. Tacoma. When you reach
Seattle call it Mt. Rainier. Both cities claim
it as their own.
"How far is it to the foothills yonder?"
1 asked the irrigation engineer. whose
| practiced eye assured me that his guess
would be about right. "How far? Why.
about 20 miles, sir. Deceiving distances
here, aren't they! Your query reminds me
OF an anecdote they like to tell to tenderfeet
| in Colorado. 1t runs like this: couple of
tourists struck Denver in time to retire early
| one fine August evening. One was an En-
gl1shman, an early riser, and, like most of
his touring countrymen, liked a spin
| on Shanks' mare before breakfasts
| constitutional, you know. Well, he looked
| out of his hotel window and his vision easily
| took in the mountains surrounding the city.
| He decided to walk over to the hills for an
| appetizer His companion, who arose later,
| and who, like myself, was 'ditcher' and
| we'll acquainted with Colorado's deceptive
| distances, made inquiries, and the clerk
| told him that his friend had set out
| in the direction of Longs Peak for
a morning stroll. Well, the minutes grew
| into hours and the anxious one de.
cided that something must have befallen
| his walking friend. So he hired bronco
| and set out in the direction indicated by the
| hotel clerk. After riding a couple Of hours
| he overlook his English chum sitting hatless,
| coatless and vestless beside a ditch, and in
the act of taking off his shoes. What on
| earth are you doing here?' he exclaimed
| Doing! Why, blarst my hyes, I'm going to
| undress anc swim this river River! Why
| this isn't a river, old boy; it's ditch-an
| irrigating ditch. Why you can almost jump
| over it. It's only ID feet wide, sir 'Well
I've been walking here for the past foul
| hours, and the blarsted hills yonder seem nc
| nearer than when I started out. You can
| jump the stream If you like, but 1 propose
| to swim it, and not take any chances"
Out in Colorado and other dry-aired dis
tricts westward it is not hard to make a
| tender!oot believe that there's more truth
| than fiction in this story.
TRULY the entertainments of distance are
brought out fully, ,forcefully and fan ntastically
| while spinning through the Western lands
where the level, bushy, sandy plain
| stretches away to the foothills So near and
| yet so far their oddly formed crests meet the
| horizon, and in the setting sun the effects
produced on their wind-spun and water
woven slopes are past picturing or pencil
| ing. When the sun gees down on a summer
| day behind those buttes of white and red
and brown and yellow stone and sand the
| minds eye can fashion what it will from the
curious contours outlined beneath the
| golden halo. Up into the blue, beyond the
white, feecy, odd-shaped clouds. shoot fiery
rays. Beyond, purple background like
| unto q sea of fire, with ship-shaped
| mists sailing in and out of enchanted
| Visions range. In foregr ound, level
| plain that leads to high-walled cities.
| There, with distance and weird effect feed.
| ing the imagination, domes, spires, pillars,
| turrets, terraces, all the grandeur of some
pictured place of palaces is within the eye
sweep. The more you gaze the greater and
| grander the fancy, the clearer the concep-
| tion, the more real the unreal.
| GEO. A. MADDEN.