, and though
the road was growing very dark, and the train which was to take me
thence was fast climbing the Sierras, I could not ride faster than a
walk.

The eastward mountains, which had been grey, blushed pale pink, the
pink deepened into rose, and the rose into crimson, and then all
solidity etherealized away and became clear and pure as an amethyst,
while all the waving ranges and the broken pine-clothed ridges below
etherealized too, but into a dark rich blue, and a strange effect of
atmosphere blended the whole into one perfect picture. It changed,
deepened, reddened, melted, growing more and more wonderful, while
under the pines it was night, till, having displayed itself for an
hour, the jewelled peaks suddenly became like those of the Sierras, wan
as the face of death. Far later the cold golden light lingered in the
west, with pines in relief against its purity, and where the rose light
had glowed in the east, a huge moon upheaved itself, and the red
flicker of forest fires luridly streaked the mountain sides near and
far off. I realized that night had come with its EERINESS, and putting
my great horse into a gallop I clung on to him till I pulled him up in
Truckee, which was at the height of its evening revelries--fires
blazing out of doors, bar-rooms and saloons crammed, lights glaring,
gaming tables thronged, fiddle and banjo in frightful discord, and the
air ringing with ribaldry and profanity.

I. L. B.

Letter III

A Temple of Morpheus--Utah--A "God-forgotten" town--A distressed
couple--Dog villages--A temperance colony--A Colorado inn--The bug
pest--Fort Collins.

CHEYENNE, WYOMING, September 8.

Precisely at 11 P.M. the huge Pacific train, with its heavy bell
tolling, thundered up to the door of the Truckee House, and on
presenting my ticket at the double door of a "Silver Palace" car, the
slippered steward, whispering low, conducted me to my berth--a
luxurious bed three and a half feet wide, with a hair mattress on
springs, fine linen sheets, and costly California blankets. The
twenty-four inmates of the car were all invisible, asleep behind rich
curtains. It was a true Temple of Morpheus. Profound sleep was the
object to which everything was dedicated. Four silver lamps hanging
from the roof, and burning low, gave a dreamy light. On each side of
the center passage, rich rep curtains, green and crimson, striped with
gold, hung from silver