The Western Echo / A Description of the Western State and Territories of the United States. As Gathered in a Tour by Wagon

by George W. Romspert

Near many of these tanks small parties of Indian squaws, girls, papooses, and some old men, of the Shoshone and Winnemucca tribes, were wallowing in the sand, with nothing but a few skins stretched over the tops of the brush to shelter them from the blazing orb; and when the engine stopped to take water these filthy creatures would run along each side of the train and ask for biscuits. Many travelers have their lunch along; and the beggars seldom fail to get their arms filled from the open windows.

When the train was in motion there was a breeze; but in every direction the heat curled and dangled upward from the scorching sands like rays from a fiery furnace. It was a dreary, lonesome ride; and we sat by the windows peering out over the little sand-mounds that rose in the distance until the pine-covered slopes of the Sierra Nevadas broke the monotony, and the breath of the mountain wafted through the open car. How delightful to be among the pretty green trees again, and to get a draught from the clear, cool waters that roll out from the mountain-rocks where the little conies sport among the crags.

We had often heard of the great tunnels and snow-sheds, and the mighty fills along the Central Pacific line. We were now actually observing the famous pass-way; and there was no part of our journey that presented such a vast amount of interesting and beautiful scenery. Sometimes we would wind along the steep side of the mountain, far above the tops of the trees in the valley below; and to look out and see the crystal waters gush from the bluff and dash down over the rocky precipices and lash into foam among the pines is grand beyond mention.

Soon the conductor comes through the car, ordering all heads and arms to be drawn in and the windows and doors closed, and warning the passengers not to get frightened. Then a flutter goes through the car, and the timid breathe short and quick. What is to happen? All of a sudden the light is eclipsed, the timid females shriek wildly, and we are winding through the dark, narrow tunnel, far into the mountain. It is dark as midnight. The rolling of the car-wheels roars like thunder, and the smoke from the engine pours in through every crevice. At length we suddenly dart into the light again. A din of relief goes through the car, the windows are thrown up, and everybody is anxious to look back at the dismal tunnel. As the front cars are winding around the valleys and over the gorges, and the rear cars are coming out of the mountain, the train looks like a huge serpent crawling from its gloomy den. Now we come into a mighty cut, where the prints of the pick and shovel are seen in the hard earth, and the great walls on either side are left rough with the blast; and now we run over a fill, and the steady heads look out into the swimming space. These are the scenes for many miles; and when considering the immense amount of labor it must have required to pierce the mountains of rock and fill up the almost bottomless gorges, a person is forced to exclaim, “Wonderful, wonderful man!”

There are the most beautiful trees growing upon the slopes; and in spite of the efforts of the Government to save the timber upon its vacant lands, saw-mills are buzzing in almost every

gorge, and the finest lumber is shipped to the East and West. Fortunes have been made at this, and they are being made to-day in spite of the penalty. There are also numerous mines along the way. At some places the whole mountain appears to have been turned upside down, and the muddy waters slush down the rocky rifts.

Our train was heavily loaded, and two engines were required at some places to haul us up the mighty grades; and the puffing of the powerful, six-wheel drivers echoed loudly down the canons. Trains are compelled to run very slow here; and bands of robbers sometimes board them, and, under cover of revolvers and guns, rob the crew.

We at length left the Sierra Nevadas to the east and ran out upon the plains of California—the beautiful, level land of gold. We had now reached the famous wheat country,—where it is said single farmers sometimes raise ten and fifteen thousand acres,—and were sailing through the renowned delightful and healthy climate. As we rolled over the level plain, where we could see for many miles in any direction, the platforms and windows were crowded with persons all anxious to view the great California, whose veins are gold, and whose influence has lain many human bodies among the rifts and gulches of the bleak and lonely mountains. Much of the country is unfenced; and when otherwise, the fields usually contain many hundred acres. At many places along the track there are large uncovered platforms built up, and thousands of bushels of grain lay there in sacks ready for shipment. They say they never put their grain in barns, but thrash it in the fields and haul it to the platforms, sometimes leaving it there for several weeks and months before shipping; for there is no danger of rain until the wet season sets in. The grain is all headed.