invested their last dollar in some of those flourishing leads which prevailed around Carson and the Devil's Gate. The state of things is now very different. Good and substantial taverns, well supplied with provisions, beds, fleas, bugs, etc., to say nothing of the essential article of whisky, are to be met with at intervals of every two or three miles all along the route. Here the stages stop, and here the horses are watered and changed; and here the drivers and passengers get down and stretch their legs, but as a general thing they don't indulge so much in water as the horses. As we approached Strawberry, I am free to admit that I became somewhat nervous. A lurking suspicion took possession of me that I was recognized by the driver, Old Charlie; though I took particular pains to join with him in abusing that vile slanderer Ross Browne, whose Peep at Washoe had aroused the indignation of every publican on the route. Charlie admitted that he had never read any of this fellow's productions, but he believed him to be the Prince of Liars on general principles; an assertion in which I heartily coincided, with an internal reservation that it was strange how angry it made people to have the truth told about them. "Lord, Lord, Charlie,” said I, handing him a cigar, "how this world is given to lying!" By this time we were at Strawberry, and I saw that I had to face the music. The story goes that there was once upon a time a man named Berry, who located a claim in a pleasant little flat about eight miles from the summit of the mountain. Here he set up his shanty, seeing with a prophetic eye that it would soon become an important point for the accommodation of travelers on the way over to Carson. When the people of California were seized with the silver mania, and began to crowd up the slopes of the Sierras with their teams and pack-trains, their picks, shovels, and blankets, Berry's became a great stopping-place, and his house, which he speedily enlarged, a famous resort for travelers; and this Berry soon became a very rich Berry. His dinners were excellent; his suppers without reproach; his beds as good as any on the road; his whisky as sure to kill at any given range as the best Port Townsend; and altogether he was a popular and a flourishing Berry. But as teams crowded around his premises and supplies of hay were cut off by storms and bad roads, he was forced to offer straw to his customers as a substitute for the regular horse and mule feed. Of course he charged hay prices, for even straw has a hay value under certain circumstances. Now the teamsters when they got straw in place of hay waxed unreasonably wroth, and called this excellent old Berry STRAW-BERRY-a name to which let all homage be rendered. By this honored name goes to this day that famous stopping-place known to the traveling public as Strawberry. I deemed it prudent, however, not to avow my name on the occasion of my present visit. It was 10 o'clock when we arrived. Covered with dust; beard, eyebrows, and hair a motley gray; hat, coat, shirt, trowsers, and boots the same color; face all striped and piebald, I was effectually disguised. If any body was there who had ever seen me before he could not have recognized me now with a microscope. I walked all about the old room with the fire-place—familiar, yet changed-looked calmly at every body about the premises, and stood with my back to the fire while the horses were being changed, with a delightful consciousness of security. In the darkness of night I had escaped Dirty Mike, and now, amidst the curious and penetrating crowd at Strawberry, not a soul knew me! The improvements at Strawberry are not to be slighted. A fine hotel now adjoins the old building; a telegraph office affords conveniences for stock-jobbing and catching thieves; handsome rooms are to be had merely for the asking; spring beds invite the wayfarer to repose; the dining-room, billiard saloon, and bar would do credit to Virginia City, or any other civilized community, where men eat, gamble, and drink spirituous liquors; the out-buildings are numerous and capacious; the stables fit for the most aristocratic horses; the hay no longer a subject of reproach to man nor beast, the straw as good as ever bore grain-Oh, Straw-Berry! "All aboard!"-a new voice, a new face, and a new driver. I bade good-by to Charlie, and hoped we might meet again in the next world, if not in this. Once more we are on our way. The road over the mountain from Strawberry has been greatly improved. It is now a magnificent highway. Formerly the ascent to the summit was difficult and dangerous. The rise is now so beautifully graded as to be scarcely appreciable. Our horses trotted along briskly nearly the whole way. The scenery becomes weird and stern as we approach the highest altitude of the Sierras. The trees are scraggy; the earth is barren and of a whitish cast; great boulders of rock rear their hoary crests high over the way-side, threatening to topple over and crush all beneath them. Sometimes huge masses of rock seem detached from the main body of the slope or cliff around which the road winds, and balanced on a mere point-thousands of tons of solid stone, ready apparently at the slightest vibration of the earth or puff of wind to come crashing down upon the stage. At some of these points I deeply sympathized with a gentleman from San Francisco, of whom the driver spoke in terms of ridicule. "He was so 'fraid them rocks 'ud be shook loose and fall on his head, he kept a dodgin' 'em all the time. His hair stood right up like a hog's brussels. Every now and then he was peerin' around for a soft spot of road to jump out on; an' when he seed he couldn't find it, he held on to the railin' with both hands till his fingers wos all blistered. 'D-d-driver,' sez he, d'ye think there's any danger?' 'Danger!' sez I-'ov course there's danger! Supposing that 'ere rock was shook loose by the rattlin' ov this 'ere stage-what d'ye think 'ud be the consequences?' 'I r-r-really can't say,' sez he; 'p-p-possibly it would crush the stage!' 'No,' sez I, 'it wouldn't crush it; but it 'ud make sich a d-d squash of it that bones wouldn't count. Your bones an' my bones, an' the bones ov three passengers above an' four behind an' nine down below, 'ud be all squashed, an' the verdic of Corners Inquest 'ud be-Eighteen men, six horses, an' a Pioneer Stage squashed by the above stone!' 'D-d-driver,' sez he- his teeth a-chatterin' like a box o' dice-'is that so?" 'You bet,' sez I, 'the last time I see it done, three ladies an'ten gents from Frisco was squashed.' 'Good gracious!' sez he, turnin' as white as a sheet, let me down at the next station!' And sure 'nuff he got DANGEROUS BOULDERS. down at the next station and made tracks for | For a distance of five or six miles the road Frisco. He changed his base-he did. aeoup!" Git winds around the sides of the mountains, crossing ravines and doubling up occasionally in turns so rapid that the stage seems to run one way and the horses another. Some of these whirling turns reminded me of the flight of an Australian bomerang. As we strike the straight "Is that true, driver?" "True?"-and the indignant look with which my friend of the whip resented the question satisfied me that it would not be prudent to push my doubts too far-so I qualified the inquiry-road again the driver gives rein to our spirited "Is it on the square, I mean?" "Stranger," said he, solemnly, "I don't make a habit o' lyin'; when I lie I kin lie as good as any body; but gen'rally speakin' I'm on the square." "Of course-that's all right; that's just what I mean; you don't usually steer clear of facts when the truth is strange-stranger than fiction.' Won't you take a cigar, driver?" "Don't care if I do." And thus the dawning difficulty was amicably adjusted. Owing to our late start we did not reach the summit before two o'clock. The air at this elevation was sharp, though not unpleasantly so. The altitude is estimated at eight thousand feet above the level of the sea. Frost was on the ground, and there was promise of colder nights soon to come. The moon, which had so kindly befriended us during the greater part of our journey to this point, was still shining brightly, shedding its silvery rays over the wilderness of mountains that loomed up around us. The view over Lake Valley was superb. I have seen nothing to surpass it in Switzerland or Norway. Perhaps the finest feature of the whole journey is the descent of the new grade. animals; crack goes the whip, and down we plunge over narrow bridges, along the edges of terrific precipices a thousand feet deep, through dark forests of pine and along frowning banks of granite, hewn from the solid bed of the mountain. Despite the ridiculous stories we had heard of accidents and alarms, every passenger with a nervous system clings tenaciously to the stage-fixtures, as if determined to follow the stage wherever it might go, and there were moments when we even held our breath to keep up a balance. I flatter myself I saved the lives of the whole party several times by hoisting at the lee rail, and holding my breath hard, while I leaned over on the weather side. It is not comfortable to look down when you are flying along at the rate of ten miles an hour and see no bottom short of a thousand or fifteen hundred feet. Yet there is a charm in this dashing, reckless journey by moonlight. The danger is just sufficient to give it a relish. The excitement keeps the blood warm; the fresh mountain air invigorates and inspires every faculty; the spirit rises with the rapidity of the motion, and before you get half-way to the valley you find yourself in a condition to sing, shout, or dance. The driver, by whose side I had the honor to sit, had evidently cultivated his voice for singing; but unfortunately he knew but one song-and of that he remembered but one line "When this cruel war is over!" which he sang straight ahead for three hours, commencing at the top of the grade and ending only when relieved by a new driver. Indeed, I am not sure that he ended then, for the last I heard of him he was leaning against a post at the station-house, humming over to himself "When this cruel war is over!" and it is not impossible he may be at it yet. The only variety I noticed during the journey was in the form of an interlude as he spoke to the horses, "Git aeoup, Bummers! Git alang, Rebs! "When this and so forth; now git!" The song is not bad when you get the whole of it, with a strong chorus; but a single line of it repeated for a distance of twenty-five miles without a chorus becomes monotonous. Whether the monotony of the poetry had a soporific tendency, or loss of rest produced a heaviness in the head, I don't know; but after the novelty of our flight down the grade had worn away somewhat, I now and then detected myself in the act of plunging overboard on the backs of the horses, or bobbing into some frightful abyss. Once I actually thought I was gone, and received such a shock when I discovered that I had only been asleep, and was still on hand, as to keep me wide awake during the rest of the way to Lake Tahoe. This beautiful lake was originally named Bigler, after a distinguished politician, who held the position of Governor of CaliforniaJohn Bigler. It was so named by a gentleman who had a high admiration for the name of Bigler. The beauty of the scenery, the crystal clearness of the water, the inspiring purity of the atmosphere filled the soul of Bigler's friend with poetry, and he called this lovely spot Bigler. It was a just tribute to the popularity of the Governor among his friends; but no governor on earth can enjoy every man's friendship. Bigler had enemies like other governors -some because they wanted office and couldn't get it; others because they wanted a contract and couldn't get it; and many because they wanted to be governor themselves. When this the luxuries of the season" can now be had. Two enterprising Americans, Messrs. Dean and Martin, have recently purchased the premises, with a view of getting up a splendid wateringplace in the Atlantic style. Already they have distinguished gentleman ceased to be Governor come the grand central point of pleasure and of California he was made a Minister to South recreation for the people of the Pacific Coast. America. It was then discovered by both The water of the lake is singularly clear and friends and enemies that the name was inap-blue, and during the warmest months is so cool propriate and lacked euphony; friends had no- as to render bathing rather a lively and stimuthing more to hope; enemies nothing more to lating exercise. It abounds in the finest trout, fear. Who the deuce is John Bigler, said they, which supply the markets of Carson and Virthat the finest lake in California should be called ginia City, and occasionally furnish a rich treat after him? Let us blot his ugly name off the to the epicures of San Francisco. Fishermen map and call this beautiful sheet of water Lake are busily occupied with their nets at intervals Latham or Lake Downey. But here com- along its shores, greatly to the detriment of genmenced a squabble between the friends of these tlemen who follow in the footsteps of Izaac Waleminent gentlemen relative to their respective ton. An excellent hotel, called the Lake House, claims. Latham, it was true, had served with has been established at a beautiful and picturhonor in the Custom-house-had held the Gu-esque point on the right shore (going toward bernatorial chair for a few weeks, and subse- Virginia), where good accommodations and "all quently had become United States Senator. But then Downey had vetoed the Bulkhead bill. Pending this difficulty, a hint from some obscure source came very near resulting in the selection of a name that would doubtless have afforded general satisfaction, since it could be claimed bath-houses, pleasure-boats, riding horses, bilby a great many people throughout the Statethe name of Brown. It was brief, pointed, and popular - Lake Brown! But what Brown? There were thirty-six Browns in the Penitentiary, besides several more who ought to be there; and at least forty-four Browns were candidates for the Legislature or inmates of the Lunatic Asylum; so that it was difficult to see what Brown would be specially benefited by the compliment. The name itself scarcely presented sufficient claims over all other names to be selected merely on account of its euphony. So Brown was dropped; and between Latham and Downey it was impossible to come to an equitable decision. The name of Bigler remained unmolested for several years longer. In due time, when Latham and Downey were both thrown overboard, the discussion of the question was renewed every prominent man in the State claiming that the lake should be named after himself. Finally, as popular sentiment could not fix upon the name of any white man, it gradually settled down in favor of the supposed Indian name-Tahoe-which was the first word spoken to the discoverer by a solitary digger, whom he encountered upon its shores. "Tahoe!" cried the digger; and it was at once assumed that "Tahoe" meant "Big Water;" but I am assured by an old settler that "Tahoe" means "Strong Water" in other words, "Whisky"-so that this magnificent lake, formerly called Bigler, is now literally "Lake Whisky!" Within the past two years the people of California and Washoe have begun to discover the beauties of this charming region, and its rare advantages as a place of summer resort. Situated in the bosom of the Sierra Nevada mountains, 6000 feet above the level of the sea, with an atmosphere of wonderful purity; abounding in game; convenient of access, and possessing all the attractions of retirement from the busy world, amidst scenery unrivaled for its romantic beauties, there can be no doubt it will soon be liard tables, bowling-alleys, and all the conveniencies for health and recreation. At the time of my visit the house was in process of enlargement. Martin was one of my fellow-pedestrians on my first trip across the mountains to Washoe, and I can safely say it would give me great pleasure to hear of his success in this enterprise. He is a clever, genial fellow, a firstrate traveling companion, and an upright, honest man. To dyspeptics, consumptives, and broken-down stock-brokers I have a word of advice to offer: If you want your digestive apparatus put in complete order, so that brickbats will stick to your ribs without inconvenience, spend a month with my friend Martin; if your bronchial tubes distress you, swallow a few thousand gallons of Lake Tahoe air, and you can blow bellows blasts from your lungs forever after; if your nervous system is deranged by bad speculations in stocks, bowl nine-pins and row one of Martin's boats for six weeks, and I venture to affirm stocks will rise a thousand per cent. It is all a matter of health in the longrun; with good digestion and a sound nervous system there is no trouble in life; and for these ends there is no place like Tahoe. From the first hour after leaving Placerville we passed along the road-side numerous teams and trains of wagons, most of which were grouped together under the trees, or in front of the station-houses, in the old-fashioned camp style. I commenced a rough calculation of the number of wagons, but soon gave it up as a hopeless task. It seemed to me that there were enough of them, big and little, to reach all the way over the mountain. At the least calculation we must have passed two or three hundred. Every wagon was heavily freighted-some with merchandise, others with iron castings for the mills, and quite a goodly number with families, fruit, whisky, and furniture. There were horse-teams, and mule-teams, and ox-teams. I never before saw so many teams on one road. No wonder the dust was pretty deep! JOB. The camp scenes along the way-side were lively and picturesque. I enjoyed them with a peculiar zest after three years of travel through the deserts of civilization in Europe. Here was life reduced to its primary elements here were accommodations cheap, roomy, and gorgeously furnished; here was comfort fit for poet, artist, or any other man of a naturally sound and barbarous taste; here were food and fire without stint, and fresh air to an unlimited extent; and holes enough through the tops of the trees to let the smoke out; and neither commissioners nor waiters to stand behind and admire your style of eating. Who is there so depraved as not to yearn for the heavenly joys of a camp-life in the wilderness? Just take a side-peep at that merry group of teamsters! Uncouth and unsentimental they may be; tired and hungry after their hard day's work they doubtless are; but did you ever see a hap pier looking set of vaga that besmear them, absolutely shine in the cheery light of the big log fire; they sniff the steaming stew that simmers in the pot with sympathetic unction; they sit and loll upon their motherearth in exquisite unconsciousness of dirt; they spin their yarns of the day's adventures with many a merry burst of laughter; and now, as they fall to work and devour the savory mess before them, what need have they for dinnerpills? Hunger is their sauce-fresh air and exercise their medicine. Oh, the jolly rascals! How I envy them their camp life! "Are you going back to the States ?" said I, | bonds? Their faces, despite the dust and grime to a Pike County man, with a wagon-load of wife and children, beds, chairs, and cooking utensils. "No, Sir," said he, turning the quid in his leathery jaw, "you bet I ain't! I'm bound for Reese! After I make my pile thar, a keeping of a tavern, I'll steer for Californy agin -it's good enough a country for me." "Why did you leave it?" I asked. "Wa'al," said the poor fellow, wiping the dust from his face with the back of his hand, "that's more'n I know. 'Twarn't my fault. The old 'oman was high for feet. She said we were fools for a tinkerin' on our little farm down thar, when every body was makin' fortunes in Reese. She's tolerable peert -the old 'oman is. Oh, she's on it, you bet!" "Well, I wish you luck!" "Thank yer," drawled Pike; "what mout yer name be, stranger?" "My name ?-ahem-is-John." The man looked hard at me; turned the quid once more in his leathery jaw; squirted out a copious stream of juice, and, without changing in the slightest degree the gravity of his countenance, said, "Mine's Job ;" and then went to work unhitching his horses. This was the last I saw of Job. As to the On second thoughts I don't know that they are to be envied in every particular. daily part of their occupation-driving ox and mule teams over the Sierras; swallowing dust and alkali on the plains; pushing, pulling, sweating, and swearing at their stubborn animals, and navigating their heavy wagons over bad roads from one month's end to another-I can't conscientiously envy them. Sooner than follow mule or ox driving as a profession, I think I'd profess politics for a living-which I consider the last resort of a worthless man. |