TAMALPAIS

TABLE MOUNTAIN, CAL.

PLAIN LANGUAGE FROM TRUTHFUL JAMES. B. Harte

TAMALPAIS, CAL.

TENNESSEE, THE RIVER

FAR

AR in the West there lies a desert land, where the mountains

Lift, through perpetual snows, their lofty and luminous

summits.

Down from their jagged, deep ravines, where the gorge, like a gateway,

Opens a passage rude to the wheels of the emigrant's

wagon,

Owyhee.

Eastward, with devious course, among the Wind-river Mountains,

Through the Sweet-water Valley precipitate leaps the Nebraska;

And to the south, from Fontaine-qui-bout and the Spanish sierras,

Fretted with sands and rocks, and swept by the wind of the desert,

Numberless torrents, with ceaseless sound, descend to the ocean,

Like the great chords of a harp, in loud and solemn vibrations.

Spreading between these streams are the wondrous, beautiful prairies,

Billowy bays of grass ever rolling in shadow and sunshine,

Bright with luxuriant clusters of roses and purple

amorphas.

Over them wander the buffalo herds, and the elk and the roebuck;

Over them wander the wolves, and herds of riderless

horses;

Fires that blast and blight, and winds that are weary with travel;

Over them wander the scattered tribes of Ishmael's

children,

Staining the desert with blood; and above their terrible war-trails

Circles and sails aloft, on pinions majestic, the vul

ture,

Like the implacable soul of a chieftain slaughtered in battle,

By invisible stairs ascending and scaling the heavens. Here and there rise smokes from the camps of these savage marauders;

Here and there rise groves from the margins of swiftrunning rivers;

And the grim, taciturn bear, the anchorite monk of the desert,

Climbs down their dark ravines to dig for roots by the

brook-side,

While over all is the sky, the clear and crystalline

heaven,

Like the protecting hand of God inverted above them. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

T

TO THE WEST! TO THE WEST!

O the West! to the West! to the land of the free, Where mighty Missouri rolls down to the sea, Where a man is a man, if he's willing to toil, And the humblest may gather the fruits of the soil. Where children are blessings, and he who hath most, Hath aid for his fortune and riches to boast;

Where the young may exult, and the aged may rest,
Away, far away, to the Land of the West!

To the West! to the West! where the rivers that flow
Run thousands of miles, spreading out as they go;
Where the green waving forests that echo our call
Are wide as old England, and free to us all;
Where the prairies, like seas where the billows have
rolled,

Are broad as the kingdoms and empires of old;
And the lakes are like oceans in storm or in rest,
Away, far away, to the Land of the West!

To the West! to the West! there is wealth to be won,
The forest to clear is the work to be done;
We'll try it, we'll do it, and never despair,