sert.

Quitting Castle Rock early on the morning of the 21st, they soon came in
sight of the Great Salt Lake, along the northern shores of which they
sped all day, taking shelter after night-fall at Terrace, in a miserable
log cabin surrounded by piles of drifting sand. The 22d was a terrible
day. The sand was blinding, the alkali dust choking, the ride for five
or six hours was up considerable grade; still they had accomplished
their 150 miles before resting for the night at Elko, even at this
period a flourishing little village on the banks of the Humboldt. After
another smothering ride on the 23d, they rested, at Winnemucca, another
flourishing village, situated at the precise point in the desert where
the Little Humboldt joins Humboldt River, without, however, making the
channel fuller or wider. The 24th was decidedly the hardest day, their
course lying through the worst part of the terrible Nevada desert. But a
glimpse of the Sierras looming in the western horizon gave them courage
and strength enough to reach Wadsworth, at their foot, a little before
midnight. Our travellers had now but one day's journey more to make
before reaching the railroad at Cisco, but, this being a very steep
ascent nearly all the way up, each mile cost almost twice as much time
and exertion.

At last, late in the evening of Christmas Day, amidst the most
enthusiastic cheers of all the inhabitants of Cisco, who welcomed them
with a splendid pine brand procession, Marston and his friends,
thoroughly used up, feet swelled, limbs bruised, bones aching, stomachs
seasick, eyes bleared, ears ringing, and brains on fire for want of
rest, took their places in the State Car waiting for them, and started
without a moment's delay for Sacramento, about a hundred miles distant.
How delicious was the change to our poor travellers! Washed, refreshed,
and lying at full length on luxurious sofas, their sensations, as the
locomotive spun them down the ringing grooves of the steep Sierras, can
be more easily imagined than described. They were all fast asleep when
the train entered Sacramento, but the Mayor and the other city
authorities who had waited up to receive them, had them carried
carefully, so as not to disturb their slumbers, on board the _Yo
Semite_, a fine steamer belonging to the California Navigation Company,
which landed them safely at San Francisco about noon on the 26th, after
accomplishing the extraordinary winter journey of 1500 miles over