This thought occurred to us as we watched a passenger train slowly
winding its way around the famous Cape Horn, some four miles from
Colfax. Although several miles in an air line intervened, one seemed to
feel the vibrations in the air caused by the panting monster, while
great jets of steam shot up above the pine trees. I confess to a sense
of elation at the spectacle. Nature in some of her moods seems so
malignant, that I felt proud of this magnificent exhibition of man's
victory over the obstacles she so well knows how to interpose.

The road between Colfax and Grass Valley - the next stopping place on
our itinerary - lay through so lovely a country that we passed through
it as in a dream. Descending into the valley we were joined by several
small boys, attracted, I suppose, by our - to them - unusual costume and
equipment, who plied us with questions. They asked if "we carried a
message for the mayor," and were visibly disappointed when we regretted
we had overlooked that formality. For several minutes they kept us busy
trying to give truthful answers to most unexpected questions. They had
never heard of Tuolumne and wanted to know if it was in California.
Their world, in fact, was bounded by Colfax on the south and Nevada City
on the north.

Grass Valley received its name from the meadow in which the town, for
the most part, is situated. The ground is so moist that, notwithstanding
the heat, the grass was a vivid green. Apple trees growing in the grass,
as in the orchards of England and in the Atlantic States, and perfectly
healthy, conveyed that suggestion of the Old World which lends a
peculiar charm to these towns. And Grass Valley really is a town, having
seven thousand inhabitants; and is, withal, clean, picturesque and
altogether delightful. One understood why "Tuolumne" sounded meaningless
to those small boys. Thus early in life they were under influences which