s 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 with thrilling trumpet tones pierced the
din, and a multitude of voices joined with the bands giving words and
tone to the magnetic storm. How many miles the Newport was pursued I
cannot conjecture. There were tall ladies standing on the high decks
of tugs that were half buried in the foam of the bay, but as long
as they could hold a "Star Spangled Banner" in one hand, and a few
handkerchiefs in an