4th July.—We crossed the Mississippi in the night, and are rolling through fields of Indian wheat and beetroot. The heat has still increased and our car is like an overheated stove; the dust entering through the windows transformed us into chimney-sweeps.
We cross now the States of Nebraska and Wyoming. The villages and towns are all illuminated with electricity. We read now and then the word “Saloon” gambling house written on the front of the houses. I have remarked that at the railway-stations nearly all the doors bear the inscription “Entrance forbidden.” It is curious how many things are forbidden in this “Free Country!” It is also very odd that the carriage-roads are not closed before the passage of trains; there is only an inscription on wooden poles “Look out for the cars!”
5th July.—I woke up in the night shivering with cold. The train was rolling through the states of Utah, across the Great American Desert. The country is bare and dull, and very poorly peopled; not a tree or a blade of grass is to be seen. The great want in the place is water. A chain of snow peaks appeared on the horizon. We are crossing the Cordilleras mountains and find ourselves at eight thousand feet above the level of the sea. Soon after lunch the Valley of Salt Lake spread before us. Our train runs amid green pastures. We pass little hamlets and orchards, which seem very green and beautiful to me after the long weary stretches of the desert we had just left. Thatched ranches (farms) and bungalows peeped from beneath the trees. We are in the legendary “Far West.” Here is a long haired Red Indian, from Cooper’s Books, galloping on the road on a small lean pony, followed by a cow-boy wearing a broad-brimmed hat. It only wants “Buffalo-Bill” in person to complete the picture. Whilst stopping at a station we saw a young Indian “squaw” (woman), sitting cross-legged on the platform, wrapped up in a red blanket, carrying on her back her papoos (baby), lashed up in its hammock. American travellers ought to be accustomed to Red-Indians, nevertheless they surveyed with great interest the young savage female, who showed her nursling to them for the sum of 15 cents. She refused outright to show her “papoos” to a passenger who offered only five cents to her. The local colour begins to disappear in the “Far West,” the Red-Indians throw off their plumes and deer-skins for a flannel shirt and a felt hat. They were plentiful enough about here some years ago, but the railroad, with its settlements has swept them back. The railway-line was being built during five years, the Red-Indians destroying it continually. In the olden days, a touch of adventure was lent to the journey by the fear of an attack from hostile Indians. We are told that even now there is danger on the line from Indian bandits. Our train passes with illuminated “Pullmans” in the centre of the plains, and my imagination getting the better of me, I seem to see our train on that lone prairie, surrounded by Red Indians. When I went to sleep, visions of fighting savages woke me up with a suppressed scream, as I fancied I was being scalped, and I find that it is only the shriek of the locomotive, and the war-whoop of the Indians are only the outcries of our pacific “Johnny” announcing that we were approaching Salt Lake City. The capital of the Mormons’ State is surrounded by an amphitheatre of hills, over which the Mormons’ Hierarchy still dominates. In 1890, Welford Woodruff, the President of the Mormon Church, received, it is said, a revelation from God, commanding that all Mormons should give up their plural wives, and they are satisfied now with one consort.
We are in a long, narrow pass: above us hang abrupt rocks and below flows a serpentine river. Our train makes right angle turns, and it seems as if we were turning all the time on the same spot. Towards night we entered the States of Sierra Nevada; we are now at only a day’s journey from Mexico. The towns, rivers and mountains have Mexican names. A Mexican pedlar selling curios and silver filigree jewellery, entered our car. Sergy bought me a finely worked brooch in the form of a mandoline. We enter a narrow wooden tunnel built to protect the line from stone avalanches, which took a whole hour to go through.
6th July.—At dawn we speeded through the ranches of California, and soon approached the town of Sacramento. Our train dashes now on its way to the Pacific. We felt already the sea breeze, and soon appeared the Gulf of San Francisco and the waters of the Pacific Ocean. Our train was pushed by workmen along an artificial dike to the station of Bonifacio, after which we rolled towards Oakland, where our train after having been divided in three parts, was put on a ferry. When we touched the other shore the train was made up again, and took us straight to San Francisco.
CHAPTER LXIII
SAN FRANCISCO
We were surrounded at the railway station by a crowd of Negroes, Japs and Chinamen. We drove to the Lyndhurst, a small hotel in Geary Street, where Mr. Shaniavski had secured apartments for us. Nothing was said to the hotel management concerning us, beyond the fact that we were foreign tourists who did not care to go to a large hotel. Our rooms were engaged for a week and paid for in advance.
San Francisco, the Queen of the Pacific, and the glory of the Eastern coast, is a rich and populous city about one hundred years old. After lunch we went out to explore the place. There are but few cabs in the streets, everyone takes the tram or the cable road; the way in which it climbs the steepest hills is wonderful. We took the cable road to Golden Gate Park, which is very beautiful indeed. Buffaloes graze on the green lawns and strange birds flash among the boughs. I thought that a beetle had settled upon my hat and when I blew it off, it appeared to be a butterfly of fantastical appearance, the size of a bird. In the part of the park called the Children’s Garden, all kinds of games and amusements are organised. We saw saddle-horses not bigger than foundland dogs, and baby-coaches drawn by white sheep. We had tea in the Children’s Restaurant, where gentlemen are admitted only when accompanied by their families.
On leaving the park we rode out to the Presidio, a military ground with big cannon pointing menacingly on to the Pacific Ocean. We stood with the rest of the crowd to see the President of the United States, who had come down from San Raphaelo, a fashionable sea-bathing place, to review four batteries of artillery, two light-batteries of field pieces and a troop of cavalry. After which the gentlemen of our party went for a stroll through the Chinese part of the town to Cliff House where seals are reared; these animals come in hundreds to bask in the sun at a few steps only from the cliffs. We ladies preferred to go out shopping. We lingered before the windows of entrancing shops, and listened to an orchestra playing in a music-shop to attract purchasers.