nd pear branches are supported, that they may not
break down under the weight of fruit; melons, tomatoes, and squashes of
gigantic size lie almost unheeded on the ground; fat cattle, gorged
almost to repletion, shade themselves under the oaks; superb "red"
horses shine, not with grooming, but with condition; and thriving farms
everywhere show on what a solid basis the prosperity of the "Golden
State" is founded. Very uninviting, however rich, was the blazing
Sacramento Valley, and very repulsive the city of Sacramento, which, at
a distance of 125 miles from the Pacific, has an elevation of only
thirty feet. The mercury stood at 103 degrees in the shade, and the
fine white dust was stifling.

In the late afternoon we began the ascent of the Sierras, whose sawlike
points had been in sight for many miles. The dusty fertility was all
left behind, the country became rocky and gravelly, and deeply scored
by streams bearing the muddy wash of the mountain gold mines down to
the muddier Sacramento. There were long broken ridges and deep
ravines, the ridges becoming longer, the ravines deeper, the pines
thicker and larger, as we ascended into a cool atmosphere of exquisite
purity, and before 6 P.M. the last traces of cultivation and the last
hardwood trees were left behind.[1]

[1] In consequence of the unobserved omission of a date to my letters
having been pointed out to me, I take this opportunity of stating that
I traveled in Colorado in the autumn and early winter of 1873, on my
way to England from the Sandwich Islands. The letters are a faithful
picture of the country and state of society as it then was; but friends
who have returned from the West within the last six months tell me that
things are rapidly changing, that the frame house is replacing the log
cabin, and that the footprints of elk and bighorn may be sought for in
vain on the dewy slopes of Estes Park.

I. L. B.

(Author's note to the third edition, January 16, 1880.)

At Colfax, a station at a height of 2,400 feet, I got out and walked
the length of the train. First came two great gaudy engines, the
Grizzly Bear and the White Fox, with their respective tenders loaded
with logs of wood, the engines with great, solitary, reflecting lamps
in front above the cow guards, a quantity of polished brass-work,
comfortable glass houses, and well-stuffed seats for the
engine-drivers. The engines and tenders were succeeded by a bag