ominously around and settle down like a pall over the half-flooded flats;
the road is full of mud-holes and pools of water, through which it is
difficult to navigate, and I am in something of a quandary. I am sweeping
along at the irresistible velocity of a mile an hour, and wondering how
far it is to the other end of the swampy road, when thrice welcome succor
appears from a strange and altogether unexpected source. I had noticed
a small fire, twinkling through the darkness away off in the swamp; and
now the wind rises and the flames of the small fire spread to the thick
patches of dead tuile. In a short time the whole country, including my
road, is lit up by the fierce glare of the blaze; so that I am enabled
to proceed with little trouble. These tuiles often catch on fire in the
fall and early winter, when everything is comparatively dry, and fairly
rival the prairie fires of the Western plains in the fierceness of the
flames.

The next morning I start off in a drizzling rain, and, after going sixteen
miles, I have to remain for the day at Elmira. Here, among other items
of interest, I learn that twenty miles farther ahead the Sacramento River
is flooding the country, and the only way I can hope to get through is
to take to the Central Pacific track and cross over the six miles of
open trestle-work that spans the Sacramento River and its broad bottom-lands,
that are subject to the annual spring overflow. From Elmira my way leads
through a fruit and farming country that is called second to none in the
world. Magnificent farms line the road; at short intervals appear large
well-kept vineyards, in which gangs of Chinese coolies are hoeing and
pulling weeds, and otherwise keeping trim. A profusion of peach, pear,
and almond orchards enlivens the landscape with a wealth of pink and
white blossoms, and fills the balmy spring air with a subtle, sensuous
perfume that savors of a tropical clime.