The gigantic lumps of tawny earth, with castellated crags of stone, ghostly ruins one would say of cities that perished thousands of years before the bricks were made for Babylon.  Profound beds for vanished torrents yawned into a scrap of green valley, and the glitter of a thread of water.  A town blossomed from a coal mine, and there was an array of driven wells with force pumps to quench the thirst of seething and raging locomotives.  A turn in the line and a beautiful cloud formation like billows of white roses, massive, delicately outlined fantastic spires like marble mountains, carved—­ah! the cloud comes out clear as if it were a wall of pearl, and there are the everlasting mighty hills with their brows of exquisite snow!

These are lofty reservoirs from which the long days glowing with sunshine send down streams of water at whose touch the deserts bloom.  The eye is refreshed as we make a closer acquaintance of the mountains.  Where water flows and trees “wag their high tops” there is hope of homes.  There are canyons that cause one to smile at remembrances of what were considered the dizzy gorges of the Alleghenies.  There is a glow as of molten lead in one corner of a misty valley far away.  It is Salt Lake, the Dead Sea of America.  Beyond this at an immense elevation is a lake with the tinge of the indigo sky of the tropics.  If one could stir a portion of the Caribbean Sea into Lake Geneva, the correct tint could be obtained.  Thirty miles of snow sheds announce progress in the journey to the Pacific.  There is still heat and dust, but beside the road are villages; and there are even fountains.

Each stream is a treasure, and its banks are rich with verdure.  There are sleek cows on bright grass.  The mountains are no longer forbidding.  They take on robes of loveliness.  The valleys broaden and on the easy slopes there are orchards where the oranges glisten.  There are clusters of grapes.  We have come upon that magic land, California.  There is golden music in the name.  This is a conquest.  The war in which it was won was not one of philanthropy.  We gathered an empire.

General Merritt never minded the weather, whether the wind blew or not, and instead of holding his ship for several hours after the appointed time, wanted to know five minutes after 10 o’clock whether the time for starting was not 10 o’clock and by whom the boat was detained.  At ten minutes after 10 the gangplank was swung free, with a desperate man on it who scrambled on with the help of long legs and a short rope.  As the ship swung from the dock and got a move on there were thousands of men and women exalted with emotion, and there were crowded steamers and tugs toppling with swarming enthusiasts resounding with brass bands and fluttering with streaming flags.  The ladies were especially frantic.  Spurts of white smoke jetted from forts and there were ringing salutes.  Steam whistles pitched a tune beyond the fixed stars.  The national airs