nd about
sixty miles from the west bank of Pitt River. These data are beautifully
and clearly expressed by a long (topographically) drawn note from an E
flat clarionet. The sandy nature of the soil, sparsely dotted with
bunches of cactus and artemisia, the extended view, flat and unbroken to
the horizon, save by the rising smoke in the extreme verge, denoting the
vicinity of a Pi Utah village, are represented by the bass drum. A few
notes on the piccolo call attention to a solitary antelope picking up
mescal beans in the foreground. The sun, having an altitude of 36
degrees 27 minutes, blazes down upon the scene in indescribable majesty.
"Gradually the sounds roll forth in a song" of rejoicing to the God of
Day:

"Of thy intensity
And great immensity
Now then we sing;
Beholding in gratitude
Thee in this latitude,
Curious thing."

Which swells out into "Hey Jim along, Jim along Josey," then
_decrescendo_, _mas o menos_, _poco pocita_, dies away and dries up.

Suddenly we hear approaching a train from Pike County, consisting of
seven families, with forty-six wagons, each drawn by thirteen oxen; each
family consists of a man in butternut-colored clothing driving the oxen;
a wife in butternut-colored clothing riding in the wagon, holding a
butternut baby, and seventeen butternut children running promiscuously
about the establishment; all are barefooted, dusty, and smell
unpleasantly. (All these circumstances are expressed by pretty rapid
fiddling for some minutes, winding up with a puff from the orpheclide
played by an intoxicated Teuton with an atrocious breath--it is
impossible to misunderstand the description.) Now rises o'er the plains,
in mellifluous accents, the grand Pike County Chorus:

"Oh we'll soon be thar
In the land of gold,
Through the forest old,
O'er the mounting cold,
With spirits bold--
Oh, we come, we come,
And we'll soon be thar.
Gee up Bolly! whoo, up, whoo haw!"

The train now encamp. The unpacking of the kettles and mess-pans, the
unyoking of the oxen, the gathering about the various camp-fires, the
frizzling of the pork, are so clearly expressed by the music that the
most untutored savage could readily comprehend it. Indeed, so vivid and
lifelike was the representation, that a lady sitting near us
involuntarily exclaimed aloud, at a certain passage, "_Thar, that pork's
burning!_" and it was truly interesting to watch the grati