The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1895-06-29

brings no surcease, but strikes the
face and envelops the form as though
emitted by a furnace seven times
heated. For miles together no house
or sign of life is seen, At Indio,
where this is written, 20 feet below
sea-level, the thermometer for three
months together will average 100 de-
grees at P. MIS- ITO at this writing
and almost no rain ever falls. An
artesian we'll 600 feet deep here shows
the sea-sand all the way down, dem
onstrating that the Gulf of California
once extended over all this region.
A Hideous Region.
The only mitigating feature is the
extreme dryness of the atmosphere,
as with any considerable humidity
human beings could not endure it.
The few cottonwoods around the
station and the few shrubs protected
by their shade are almost the only
plants for miles, except the palms,
which are indigenous, and the ire
pressible sagebush, cactus and grease
wood that no heat discourages, but that
render the scene even the more DESC
late by their presence-under whose
wierd protection the rattlesnake, tar
antula, centipede and Gila (Heela)
monster hide, and in which the rabbit
and quail abound, and the music of
which is furnished by the prowling
coyote (ki-o-ti, who renders night
hideous with his hateful voice,
accentuated in the canyons by the
melodious whippoorwill. The hotel
here and few cottages for guests
when the hotel is crowded, the
cottages of section men, and cluster
of shanties occupied by Indians, con-
stitute the settlement. The cotton
woods and palms, with the artesian
we'll, create a veritable oasis in the
real desert, and since l have been
writing have heard or seen several
robins, orioles, fycatchers, and other
birds unknown to me, that give to
the place a touch of civilization and
home. Indeed, there is no place SO
desolate that will not attract the
beauty and music of birds, if man
will but plant tree and bring to
the surface drop of water.
Salton, little east of Indio, is 263
feet below sea level, and there pure
salt covers the ground in inexhausti
BILE quantities, and is plowed and
harvested and shipped away in sacks
for use. The salt works and the sta
ton make the town.
From Seven Palms station I rode
across the desert five miles to Palm
Springs, famous resort for con-
sumptives. Here is the famous Aqua
Caliente or hot spring. Through
central shaft, the dimensions of an
ordinary we'll, hot water and sand are
thrown up with tremendous force.
The bather sinks little way, but
with tremendous recoil, he is thrown
up and cannot sink far. A hotel here
harbors through the winter numbers
of those who can scarcely breathe
elsewhere = consumptives. In the
summer the heat is unbearable except
to those in health, and who are in
ured.
In the canyons near at hand are
about a thousand indigenous palms,
eighty and ninety feet high, and five
centuries old-magni6cent specimens
of their ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS filifera-
from which by seed have been propa-
gated the multitudes that adorn the
gardens and streets of California. The
region is an Indian reservation. Palm
Springs is watered from the noun
tains, and the vegetation is only kept
alive by constant struggle.
The Desolation of Desert.
But the great spectacle of the Des-
ert Think of It'll The mountain bar
rier on its edge is all that separates
its desolation from the tropical
beauty and bounty that fill the val
leys of Southern California. There
flowers, fruit, and the temperature of
perpetual spring reside; here sterility,
heat, desolation, extending over an
area equal to several of the States.
The traveller sees yellow sand, rocks,
gray sage bushes, cacti, yuccas,
cloudless sunshine by day, and by
night stars that burn with intense
brightness, silence, solitude, the scene
occasionally diversified by column
of whirling sand, or sand storm that
envelops the thirst-maddened traveller
beneath cruel coverlet. For thirst
is the enemy to be dreaded here. 1t
;a cold fbof M froualar unucad - kba