When the train was in motion there was a breeze; but in every direction the heat curled and dangled upward from the scorching sands like rays from a fiery furnace. It was a dreary, lonesome ride; and we sat by the windows peering out over the little sand-mounds that rose in the distance until the pine-covered slopes of the Sierra Nevadas broke the monotony, and the breath of the mountain wafted through the open car. How delightful to be among the pretty green trees again, and to get a draught from the clear, cool waters that roll out from the mountain-rocks where the little conies sport among the crags. We had often heard of the great tunnels and snow-sheds, and the mighty fills along the Central Pacific line. We were now actually _observing_ the famous pass-way; and there was no part of our journey that presented such a vast amount of interesting and beautiful scenery. Sometimes we would wind along the steep side of the mountain, far above the tops of the trees in the valley below; and to look out and see the crystal waters gush from the bluff and dash down over the rocky precipices and lash into foam among the pines is grand beyond mention. Soon the conductor comes through the car, ordering all heads and arms to be drawn in and the windows and doors closed, and warning the passengers not to get frightened. Then a flutter goes through the car, and the timid breathe short and quick. What is to happen? All of a sudden the light is eclipsed, the timid females shriek wildly, and we are winding through the dark, narrow tunnel, far into the mountain. It is dark as midnight. The rolling of the car-wheels roars like thunder, and the smoke from the engine pours in through every crevice. At length we suddenly dart into the light again. A din of relief goes through the car, the windows are thrown up, and everybody is anxious to look back at the dismal tunnel. As the front cars are winding around the valleys and over the gorges, and the rear cars are coming out of the mountain, the train looks like a huge serpent crawling from its gloomy den. Now we come into a mighty cut, where the prints of the pick and shovel are seen in the hard earth, and the great walls on either side are left rough with the blast; and now we run over a fill, and the steady heads look out into the swimming space. These are the scenes for many miles; and when considering the immense amount of labor it must have required to pierce the mountains of rock and fill up the almost bottomless gorges, a person is forced to exclaim, “Wonderful, wonderful man!” There are the most beautiful trees growing upon the slopes; and in spite of the efforts of the Government to save the timber upon its vacant lands, saw-mills are buzzing in almost every [Illustration]