The recent discovery of Trinidad bay, which lies about two hundred miles north of San Francisco, will have a material effect on the local interests of the country. It will open a new channel of commerce into the northern mines, and render accessible the finest forests in California. This bay, as represented, has sufficient depth and capacity to shelter a large marine. A town has already been laid out on the curve of its bold shore; streets, squares, and edifices have ceased to figure on the map, and become a reality. Where but one moon since the shark and seal plunged and played at will, freighted ships are riding at anchor; while the indignant bear has only had time to gather up her cubs and seek a new jungle.
Before this sheet can get to press, there will be a daily on Trinidad bay, with the price-current of New York and London figuring in its columns, and an opera of Rossini singing its prelude between the reeling anthems of the church-going bell. Why, man! you talk of the slumbers of Rip Van Winkle, and the visions of the seven sleepers of Ephesus! Know you not the whole world is asleep, save what wakes and works on Trinidad bay? It takes an age in other lands to rear a city; but here, one phase of the fickle moon, and up she comes, like Venus from the wave, or the peak of Pico at the call of the morning star. Clear the coast with your old dormitory hulks of slumbering ages, and let this new Trinidad launch her keeled thunder! Her pennant unrolls itself in flame on the wind, and her trident is tipt with the keen lightning. The great whale of the Pacific turns here his startled gaze—plunges, and blows next half-way to Japan.
Hurra for Trinidad! Let nations sleep,
And empires moulder in their misty shroud;
She shakes her trident on her golden steep,
O’er waving woods, in solemn reverence bowed;
Her bright aurora throws its flashing ray
Where primal worlds in sunless darkness stray!
A shout from those touched orbs comes rolling back,
As rose the anthem of this earth, when first