e sea from snowy mountain crown.
The heavens roll, and all things drift or seem
To drift about and drive like some majestic dream.

And it is in the very bosom of this majestic scenery that Lake Tahoe
lies enshrined. Its entrancing beauty is such that we do not wonder
that these triumphant monarchs of the "upper seas" cluster around it
as if in reverent adoration, and that they wear their vestal virgin
robes of purest white in token of the purity of their worship.

Thoughts like these flood our hearts and minds as we reach Truckee,
the point where we leave the Southern Pacific cars and change to those
of the narrow-gauge Lake Tahoe Railway and Transportation Company.
After a brief wait, long enough to allow transfer of baggage, we
leave, from the same station, for the fifteen miles' ride to Tahoe
Tavern on the very edge of the Lake.

This ride is itself romantic and beautiful. On the day trains
observation cars are provided, and the hour is one of delightful,
restful and enchanting scenes. The Truckee River is never out of sight
and again and again it reminds one in its foaming speed of Joaquin
Miller's expressive phrase:

See where the cool white river runs.

Before 1900 this ride used to be taken by stage, the railway having
been built in that year. It is interesting here to note that the
rails, the locomotives, the passenger and freight cars were all
transported bodily across the Lake from Glenbrook, on the Nevada side.
There they were in use for many years mainly for hauling logs and
lumber to and from the mills on the summit, whence it was "flumed" to
Carson City.

In those days logging was carried on in the Truckee River Canyon and
the visitor would often have the pleasure of seeing logs "shoot the
chutes" into the river, by which they were floated to the mills at
Truckee. Here is a picture:

Tree, bush, and flower grow and blossom upon either side; and
a little bird, with a throat like a thrush, warbles a canticle
of exquisite musical modulations, so to speak. But the most
stirring sight of all is the system of logging carried on by
the mill companies. "Look! Quick!" ejaculates the driver; and
your gaze is directed to a monster log that comes furiously
dashing from the summit down a chute a thousand feet in length
with twice the ordinary speed of a locomotive. So rapid is
its descent that it leaves a trail of smoke behind it, and
sometimes kindles a fire among the