-M
THE NEW YORK
™lic library!
A8T0R. LENOX
TiLD£N FOUNnAT.^..^
ACROSS THE CONTINENT
BY
THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY
By
EFFIE PRICE GLADDING
ILLUSTRATED BY PHOTOGRAPHS
New York
BRENTANO'S
1915
TilE LEW YOPIK
PUBLIC LIBRARY
734511
ASTOR, LENOX AND
TILDEN FOUNDATIONS
^ 1916 L
Copyright, 1915,
BY
Effie Price Gladding
Manufactured by
Rowland & Ives
225 Fifth Avenu9
New York
\:
Dedicated to
Lovers of the open road and the flying wheel.
"My country, 'tis of thee.
Sweet land of liberty.
Of thee I sing."
CONTENTS
PAGE
Introduction 7
Chapter I 11
Chapter II 22
Chapter III 37
Chapter IV 57
Chapter V 76
Chapter VI . . , . . . 92
Chapter VII , . . . . . Ill
Chapter VIII 142
Chapter IX .169
Chapter X 191
Chapter XI 210
Chapter XII 227
Chapter XIII 257
y
INTRODUCTION vu
A FOREWORD THAT IS A
RETROSPECT
From the Pacific to the Atlantic by the Lincoln
Highway, with California and the Virginias and
Maryland thrown in for good measure! What a
tour it has been! As we think back over its miles
we recall the noble pines and the towering Sequoias
of the high Sierras of California; the flashing wa-
ter-falls of the Yosemite, so green as to be called
Vernal, so white as to be called Bridal Veil; the
orchards of the prune, the cherry, the walnut, the
olive, the almond, the fig, the orange, and the lemon,
tilled like a garden, watered by the hoarded and
guarded streams from the everlasting hills ; and the
rich valleys of grain, running up to the hillsides and
dotted by live oak trees. We recall miles of vine-
yard under perfect cultivation. We see again the
blue of the Pacific and the green of the forest ce-
dars and cypresses. High Lake Tahoe spreads
viii INTRODUCTION
before us, with its southern fringe of emerald
meadows and forest pines, and its encirding guard-
ians, lofty and snow-capped. The high, grey-green
deserts of Nevada, Utah, and Wyoming stretch be-
fore us once more, and we can smell the clean, pun-
gent sage brush. We are not lonely, for life is all
about us. The California quail and blue- jay, the
eagle, the ground squirrel, the gopher, the coyote,
the antelope, the rattlesnake, the big ring snake,
the wild horse of the plains, the jack rabbit, the
meadow lark, the killdeer, the redwinged blackbird,
the sparrow hawk, the thrush, the redheaded wood-
pecker, the grey dove, all have been our friends and
companions as we have gone along. We have seen
them in their native plains and forests and from
the safe vantage point of the front seat of our
motor car.
The lofty peaks of the Rockies have towered be-
fore us in a long, unbroken chain as we have looked
at them from the alfalfa fields of Colorado.
We have seen the bread and the cornbread of a
nation growing on the rolling prairies of Nebraska,
Iowa, and Illinois. We have crossed the green,
pastoral stretches of Indiana and Ohio and Penn-
sylvania. The red roads of Virginia, winding
INTRODUCTION ix
among her laden orchards of apples and peaches
and pears and her lush forests of oak and pine;
the yellow roads of Maryland, passing through her
fertile fields and winding in and out among the
thousand water ways of her coast line, all come be-
fore us. These are precious possessions of expe-
rience and memory, the choice, intimate knowledge
to which the motorist alone can attain.
The Friends of the Open Road are ours; the
homesteader in his white canopied prairie schooner,
the cattleman on his pony, the passing fellow mo-
torist, the ranchman at his farmhouse door, the
country inn-keeper hospitably speeding us on our
way.
We have a new conception of our great country ;
her vastness, her varied scenery, her prosperity,
her happiness, her boundless resources, her im-
mense possibilities, her kindness and hopefulness.
We are bound to her by a thousand new ties of ac-
quaintance, of association, and of pride.
The Lincoln Highway is already what it is in-
tended to be, a golden road of pleasure and use-
fulness, fitly dedicated, and destined to inspire a
great patriotism and to honour a great patriot.
October^ 1914.
ACROSS THE CONTINENT BY
THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY
CHAPTER I
With what a strange thrill I look out from my
stateroom window, early one April morning, and
catch a glimpse of the flashing light on one of the
green promontories of the Golden Gate! I dress
hurriedly and run out to And that a light is flaming
on the other promontory, and that we are entering
the great Bay of San Francisco. It has taken a
long preparation to give me the feeling of pride and
joy and wonder with which I come through the
Golden Gate to be in my own country once more.
A year of touring in Europe, nearly a year of travel
in the Orient, six months in Australia and New
Zealand, and after that three months in Honolulu ;
all this has given me the background for the unique
sensation with which I see the two lights on the long
12 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
green promontories of the Golden Gate stretching
out into the Pacific. Our ship moves steadily on,
past Alcatraz Island with its long building on its
rocky height, making it look like a big Atlantic
liner built high amidships. There are the green
heights of the Presidio and the suburbs of the city
of San Francisco. On the left in the distance is
Yerba Buena Island. Far ahead of us, across the
width of the Bay, are the distant outlines of Oak-
land and Berkeley. Later I am to stand on the
hilly campus of the University of Cahfornia and
look straight across the Bay through the Golden
Gate which we have just entered. The tall build-
ings of San Francisco begin to arise and we are
landed in the streets of the new city. What a mar-
vel it is ! In the ten days that we were there I must
say that still the wonder grew that a city could have
risen in nine short years from shock, and flood, and
fire, to be the solid, imposing structure of stone and
brick, with wide bright streets and impressive
plazas, that San Francisco now is. In the placing
of its statues at dramatic points on the streets and
cross streets, it reminds one of a French city. The
new city has fine open spaces, with streets stretch-
ing in all directions from these plazas. There
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 13
are many striking groups of statuary ; among them
one whose inscriptions reads:
DEDICATED TO MECHANICS
BY
JAMES MERVYN DONAHUE IN MEMORY OF HIS
FATHER^ PETER DONAHUE
The most striking figure in this group, one of five
workmen cutting a hole through a sheet of steel, is
the figure of the old man who superintends the
driving of the bolt through the sheet, while four
stalwart young men throw their weight upon the
lever. Here is not only stalwart youth and brawn,
but also the judgment and steadiness of mature
age. The older man has a good head, and adds a
moral balance to the whole group. It is a fine mem-
orial, not only to the man whose memory it hon-
ours, but also to a host of mechanics and working
men who do their plain duty every day.
The most attractive thing about the San Fran-
cisco residences is the fine view of the Bay that
many of them have. It is the business portion of the
city that makes the striking impression upon the
stranger. The new Masonic Building, with its
14 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
massive cornice, reminding one of the Town Hall
in the old fighting town of Perugia, Italy ; the tow-
ering buttresses of the Hotel St. Francis; the no-
ble masses of the business blocks; the green rect-
angle of the civic center where the city's functions
are held in the open air ; — all are impressive. In all
of the California cities, one finds no better dressed
people and no more cosmopolitan people in ap-
pearance than are to be seen on the San Francisco
streets. It is more nearly a great city in its spirit
and atmosphere than any other metropolis of the
State.
The drive through the Golden Gate Park is in-
teresting because of the blooming shrubs, and the
lovely foliage. I have never before seen my favor-
ite golden broom blooming in any part of the
United States. Here it grows luxuriantly. The
Presidio, the site of the military post, is a very
beautiful park, and is well worth seeing.
A memorable excursion is one across the Bay to
Berkeley, the seat of the State University. In the
past fifteen or twenty years the University has
grown from a somewhat motley collection of old
brick buildings into a noble assemblage of harmo-
nious stone buildings with long lines of much archi-
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 15
tectural impressiveness. No one can see the Uni-
versity of California without feeling that here is a
great institution against the background of a great
State. Two buildings which I particularly like are
the School of Mines, built by Mrs. Phoebe Hearst
as a memorial to her husband, and the beautiful li-
brary. While the two buildings are very different
in type, each is noble and appropriate for its par-
ticular uses. There are still a few of the original
buildings standing, old-fashioned and lonely.
Doubtless they will be removed in time and more
fitting structures will take their place. The situa-
tion of the campus is superb. It lies on a group of
green foothills, the buildings rising from various
knolls. You literally go up to the halls of learning.
The whole campus and the little university city at
its feet are dominated by an enormous white C out-
lined on the green hills far above. It is a stiff climb
to that C, but it is a favorite walk for ambitious
students. They tell me that occasionally students
come up from Leland Stanford Universitj^ and in
teasing rivalry paint over the C at the dead hour
of night. The University is rich in beautiful situa-
tions on the campus for out-of-door functions.
Nothing could be lovelier than Strawberry Canyon,
16 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
a green valley with immemorial live oaks scattered
here and there; and with clumps of shrubbery be-
hind whose greenness musicians can conceal them-
selves. We saw the annual masque given by four
hundred University women in honour of Mrs.
Phoebe Hearst. I carry in memory a lovely vision
of dancing wood nymphs, of living flowers, of soft
twilight colors, streaming across the greensward;
and of a particular wood nymph, the very spirit of
the Spring, who played about in irresponsible hap-
piness, all in soft wood browns and pinks and
greens. The Greek Theatre is a noble monument to
Mr. Randolph Hearst, its donor. A great audience
there is a fine sight; so symmetrical is the am-
phitheatre that it is hard to realize how many thou-
sands of people are sitting in the circle of its stone
tiers. Behind the topmost tier runs a wall covered
with blooming roses, while back of this wall hang
the drooping tassels of tall eucalyptus trees.
Nothing could be more fitting as a theatre for music
and for all the noblest and most dignified functions
of a great institution.
We did not start on our long journey, which was
to mount up to 8,600 miles in distance, until the
21st of April. Before that we had a delightful
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 17
northern trip of one hundred and twenty miles in
a friend's motor car ; crossing the ferry and driving
through Petaluma, Sonoma Valley, and Santa
Rosa, on to Ukiah. Coming through Petaluma our
host told us that we were in "Henville." I had sup-
posed that chickens would do well an^^where in
sunny California, but not so. There are districts
where the fog gets into the tliroats of the fowls and
kills them. Sonoma County is particularly adapt-
ed for chicken raising and there are hundreds of
successful chicken growers in this region.
As we came through Santa Rosa, we saw the
modest home and the office and gardens of Luther
Burbank.
Beyond Santa Rosa we entered what our host
called the Switzerland of California. The roads
are only ordinary country roads and very hilly at
that, but the rolling green fields and glimpses of
distant hills, with hesLvy forests here and there, are
very beautiful. I saw for the first time in all its
spring glory the glowing California poppy. Great
masses of bright orange yellow were painted
against the lush green of the thick hillside grass;
masses that fairly radiated light. Alongside these
patches of flaming yellow were other patches of
18 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
the deep blue lupine. Some great painter should
immortalize the spring fields of California. The
wonderful greenness of the grass, the glowing
masses of yellow, and the deep gentian blue of the
lupine would rank with the coloring of McWhirt-
er's *'Tyrol in Springtime." California in the spring
is an ideal State in which to motor. We were sorry
that we could not accept our host's invitation to
motor still farther north into Lake County, a
county of rough roads but fine scenery.
Northern California has not yet been developed
or exploited for tourists as has the southern part
of the State, but there is beautiful scenery in all
the counties north of San Francisco. As we drove
through Sonoma (Half Moon) Valley, we saw
the green slopes of Jack London's ranch, not many
miles away. Jack London's recent book, "The Val-
ley of the Half Moon," describes the scenery of this
region.
Back of Vallejo, reached by ferry from San
Francisco, lies the lovely Napa Valley, filled with
fruit ranches. Its southern end is narrow, but as
one drives farther north it widens out into a broad
green expanse of orderly fruit farms and pleasant
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY. 19
homes, dominated by green hills on either side.
Sonoma Valley and Napa Valley were the first of
many enchanting valleys which we saw in Califor-
nia. As I look back on our long drive, it seems to
me now that in California you are always either
climbing a mountain slope or descending into a
green valley flanked by ranges of hills. Calistoga,
at the northern end of Napa Valley, has interesting
literary associations. It was on the slope of Cahs-
toga Mountain that Robert Louis Stevenson spent
his honeymoon and had the experience of which we
read to-day in ''The Silverado Squatters."
San Francisco is a pleasure-loving town. When
its people are not eating in public places to the
sound of music, they are likely to be amusing them-
selves in public places. The moving picture, the
theatre, the vaudeville, all flourish in this big, gay,
rushing city. The merchants of San Francisco
have shown great courage and daring in the erec-
tion of their big buildings almost immediately on
the stones and ashes of the old ones. They have
done all this on borrowed money and loaded them-
selves with heavy mortgages, trusting to the future
and to fat years to pay off their indebtedness. They
20 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
have done an heroic work in a solid, impressive
way, and deserve all the business that can possibly
come to them.
In San Francisco I saw for the first time that
great California institution, the cafeteria. They
pronounce this word in California with the accent
on the "i." To a traveler it seems as if all San
Francisco must take its meals in these well equipped
and perfectly ordered restaurants. You enter at
one side of the room, taking up napkin, tray, knife,
fork, and spoons from carefully arranged piles as
you pass along a narrow aisle outlined by a railing.
Next comes a counter steaming with trays of hot
food, and a second counter follows with rows of
salads and fruits on ice. After one's choice is made,
the tray is inspected and the pay-check estimated
and placed on the tray by a cashier. You are then
free to choose your table in the big room and to
turn over your tray to one of the few waiters in at-
tendance. You leave on the opposite side of the
room, passing a second cashier and paying the
amount of your check.
It is a great game, this of choosing one's food
by looking it over as it stands piping hot or ice
cold, in its appointed place. The attendants are
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 21
evidently accustomed to the weakness of human
nature, bewildered by so overwhelming an array
of viands. They keep calling out the merits of
various dishes as the slow procession passes. "Have
some broiled ham? It's very nice this morning,"
"Try the bacon. It's specially good to-day."
California people are much given to light house-
keeping and to taking their meals in cafeterias and
other restaurants. Doubtless this fashion may have
been inaugurated by the fact that an ever increas-
ing tourist population, living in hotels and lodg-
ings, must be taken care of. But many of the Cali-
fornians themselves are accustomed to reduce the
cares of house-keeping to the minimum, and to take
almost all their meals away from their own homes.
The servant question is a serious one in California;
and this type of co-operative house-keeping seems
to commend itself to hosts of people. We enjoyed
it as pilgrims and travelers, but one would scarcely
wish to have so large a part of the family life hab-
itually lived in public places.
22 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
CHAPTER II
In the heart of San Francisco stands a tall, slen-
der iron pillar, with a bell hanging from its down-
turned top, like a lily drooping on its stalk. This
bell is a northern guide post of the famous El
Camino Real, the old highway of the Spanish monks
and monasteries on which still stand the ruins of the
ancient Mission churches and cloisters. We pur-
pose to drive south the entire length of the six hun-
dred miles of El Camino Real; and then turning
northward to cross the mountain backbone of the
State of California, and to come up through the
vast and fertile stretches of its western valleys,
meeting the Lincoln Highway at the town of
Stockton.
It is the morning of the 21st of April when we
swing around the graceful bell, run along Market
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 23
Street to the Masonic Temple, turn left into Mis-
sion Road, and from Mission Road come again
into El Camino Real. We first pass through the
usual fringe of cheap houses, road saloons, and small
groceries that surrounds a great city. Then comes
a group of the city's cemeteries, ''Cypress Grove,"
"Home of Peace," and others. We have a bumpy
road in leaving the city, followed by a fine stretch
of smooth, beautiful cement highway. On through
rolling green country we drive, and into the suburb
of Burlingame with its vine covered and rose em-
bowered bungalows, and its houses of brown shin-
gle and of stucco. The finer places sit far back from
the road in aristocratic privacy, with big, grassy
parks shaded by noble trees in front, and with the
green foothills as a background,
At San Mateo, a town with the usual shaven and
parked immaculateness of highclass suburbs, we
have luncheon in a simple little pastry shop. The
woman who gaily serves us with excellent ham
sandwiches, cake, and coffee, tells us that she
is from Alsace-Lorraine. She and her husband
have found their way to California. From San
Mateo we drive to Palo Alto, where we spend some
time in visiting Leland Stanford University. The
24 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
University buildings of yellow sandstone with their
warm red tiled roofs look extremely well in the
southern sun. Here are no hills and inequalities.
All the buildings stand on perfectly level ground,
the situation well suited to the long colonnades and
the level lines of the buildings themselves. It is
worth the traveler's while to walk through the long
cloisters and to visit the rich and beautiful church,
whose restoration from the ravages of the earth-
quake is about completed. With its tiling and
mosaic work, its striking mottoes upon the walls,
and its fine windows, it is very like an Italian
church.
The town of Palo Alto is a pretty little settle-
ment, depending upon the University for its life.
From Palo Alto we drive on into the Santa Clara
Valley. We are too late to see the fruit trees in
bloom, a unique sight; but the valley stretches be-
fore us in all its exquisite greenness and freshness
after the spring rains. Miles of fruit trees, as care-
fully pruned and weeded and as orderly in every
detail as a garden, are on every side of us. Prune
trees, cherry trees, and apricot trees; there are
thousands of them, in a most beautiful state of
cultivation and fruitfulness. No Easterner who
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 25
has seen only the somewhat untidy and carelessly
cultivated orchards of the East can imagine the ex-
quisite order and detailed cultivation of the Cali-
fornia fruit orchards. We saw miles of such or-
chards always in the same perfect condition. Not
a leaf, not a branch, not a weed is left in these or-
chards. They are plowed and harrowed, sprayed
and pruned, down to the last corner of every or-
chard, and the last branch of every tree.
Through the clean aisles, between the green rows,
run the channels for the precious water that has
traveled from the mountains to the plains to turn
tens of thousands of acres into a fair and fruitful
garden.
The Santa Clara Valley is one of the loveliest
valleys of all California, and indeed of all the world.
Set amid its orchards are tasteful houses and
bungalows, commodious and architecturally pleas-
ing; very different from the box-like farmhouses
of the Middle West and the East. On either side
rise high green hills. It is a picture of beauty
wherever one looks.
At Santa Clara, on our way to San Jose, we stop
to see the Santa Clara Mission, just at the edge of
the town. All that remains of the first Mission is
26 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
enclosed within a wall, the new church and the flour-
ishing new school standing next to the enclosure.
In the middle of the valley is the city of San
Jose, an active, bustling town, full of life and busi-
ness. We spent a pleasant day at the Hotel Ven-
dome, an old-fashioned and delightful hostel, sur-
rounded by a park of fine trees and flowering
shrubs. The Vendome is a good place in which to
rest and bask in the sunshine.
When we next motor through the Santa Clara
Valley, we shall visit the New Almaden quicksil-
ver mine, twelve miles from San Jose, and com-
manding from its slopes a wondrous view of the
valley and the Garden City, as San Jose is called.
And there is the interesting trip from San Jose to
Mt. Hamilton and the Lick Observatory. One can
motor by a good road to the summit of the moun-
tain, 4,209 feet above sea level, and spend the night
at the hotel below on the mountain slope.
Leaving San Jose, we were more and more
charmed with the valley as we drove along through
orderly orchards and past tasteful bungalows. This
was the California of laden orchards, of roses and
climbing geraniums, of green hills rising beyond
the valleys, of which we had read. As we ap-
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 27
preached the foot hills of the Santa Cruz Mountains
we looked back and saw the green valley with its
ranks of trees unrolled below us. Passing through
the little town of Los Gatos (The Cats) , we began
to climb. As we turned a curve on the winding
mountain road, the green expanses of the Happy
Valley were lost to view. We were coming now
into the region of immense pine trees and of the
coast redwoods, the Sequoia sempervirens. The
road was fair but very winding, requiring close at-
tention. We crossed singing brooks and passed
wayside farms high in the hills, with their little
patches of orchard and grain. We saw a big sign-
board indicating the two-mile road to the Monte-
zuma Ranch School for boys, and shortly after
were at the top of the grade. Then came the de-
scent, the road still winding in and out among the
forests. At the Hotel de Redwood, a simple hostel
for summer sojourners from the valleys, we saw
a magnificent clump of redwoods, around which had
been built a rustic seat. At the foot of the hill we
turned left instead of right, thus omitting from our
itinerary the town of Santa Cruz and the redwoods
of the Big Basin. We hope to see this noble group
of trees sometime in the future. We took lunch-
28 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
eon in a little cafe at Watsonville. When I asked
the young German waiter for steamed clams he
said, "Oh! you mean dem big fellers!" From
Watsonville, a bright little town, we drove on tow-
ard Salinas, making a detour which took us around
the town instead of directly through it. We were
crossing the green plains of the Salinas Valley, and
before us rose the dark wooded heights of the fa-
mous Monterey Peninsula. On through the town
of JVfonterey to Pacific Grove, a mile beyond, and
we were soon resting in an ideal bungalow watched
over by two tall pines. What a memorable week
we spent at " Woodwardia" ! A quarter of a mile
to our right was the sea, whose sound came up to
us plainly on still nights. Less than a quarter of
a mile to our left were the forest and the beginning
of the Seventeen Mile Drive. We took the drive
once and again, paying the seventy-five cent en-
trance fee at the gate of the Pacific Improvement
Company's domain, thus becoming free to wander
about in the great wooded territory of the Peninsu-
la. We took luncheon at the picturesque Pebble
Lodge, where we had soup served in shining abalone
shells, and where the electric lights were shaded by
these shells. We halted in leisurely fashion along
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 29
the Drive to climb over the rocks and to scramble
up the high dunes, with their riot of flowering beach
peas. They were ideal places to sit and dream with
the blue sea before one and the dark forest behind.
We photographed the wind-swept cypress trees,
beaten and twisted into witchlike shapes by the
free Pacific breezes. We watched the seals, lazily
basking in the sun on the rocks off shore. We vis-
ited the picturesque village of Carmel, where ar-
tists and writers consort. We selected, under the
spell of all this beauty, numerous sites for bunga-
lows on exquisite Carmel Bay, where one might en-
joy forever and a day the fascination of the sea
and the spell of the pine forests.
We visited the Carmel Mission, now standing
lonely and silent in the midst of green fields. A few
of the old pear trees planted by the Mission fath-
ers still maintain a gnarled and aged existence in
an orchard across the road from the church. The
church is a simple structure with an outside flight
of adobe steps, such as one sees in Italian houses,
running up against the wall to the bell tower. At
the left of the altar are the graves of three priests,
one being that of Father Junipero Serra, the
founder of many of the Missions, the devoted Span-
so ACROSS THE CONTINENT
ish priest and statesman who more than once walked
the entire length of six hundred miles along which
his Missions were planted. A wall pulpit stands out
from the right wall of the church. The most touch-
ing thing in the empty, dusty, neglected little place
is a partly obliterated Spanish inscription on the
wall of the small room to the left of the main body
of the church. It is said to have been painted there
by Father Serra himself, and reads, being trans-
lated: "Oh, Heart of Jesus, always shining and
burning, illumine mine with Thy warmth and
light."
A memorable excursion was to Point Lobos be-
yond Carmel village, a rocky promontor}^ running
out like a wedge-shaped plateau into the sea. One
approaches the sea across exquisite green, turfy
spaces, shaded by pine trees, to find the point of
the wedge far above the water, cut by rocky and
awesome gashes into which the waves run with
a long rush and against whose walls they boom con-
tinually. The quiet woods of Point Lobos do
not prepare one for the magnificence of its out-
look and the wonderful sight of its great rocks ris-
ing ruggedly and precipitously far above the wa-
ter. I have seen the entire three hundred miles of
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 31
the French and Italian Riviera, having motored all
along that enchanting coast; and I am free to say
that Point Lobos is as fine a bit of scenery as one
will find, not only on the Pacific Coast but along
the Mediterranean shore.
Point Lobos was purchased a number of years
ago by a Pacific Grove gentleman who had an eye
for its rare beauty and grandeur, and who has built
for liimself a modest home on a green meadow at
the entrance to the promontory. A small admis-
sion fee is charged for the Point, largely to exclude
those who in former days, when the Point was free
to excursionists, abused this privilege.
The owner has established on a little cove a short
distance from his house an abalone canning factory.
Here the Japanese and other divers bring their boat
loads of this delicious shellfish. Monterey Bay is
the home of the abalone and it has been so ruthlessly
fished for that new laws have had to be made to
protect it. The big, soft creature, as large as a tea
plate, fastens itself to rocks and other surfaces, its
one shell protecting it from above. The diver slips
under it his iron spatula, and by a quick and
skillful twist detaches it from its firm anchorage.
Abalone soup has a delicate flavor, really superior
S2 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
to clam soup. Both the exterior and the lining of
the abalone shell have most exquisite coloring and
are capable of a high polish. In the lining of the
shell there is often found the beautiful blister or
abalone pearl, formed by the same process as the
oyster pearl, the animal throwing out a secretion
at the point where it is irritated. The result is a
blister on the smooth lining of the shell which when
cut out and polished shows beautiful coloring, rang-
ing from satiny yellow to changing greens. We
spent an hour in wandering about the canning fac-
tory, looking over heaps of cast-off shells, admiring
their beautiful lining, and choosing some to carry
with us across country to a far distant home. That
many of the shells had had marketable blisters was
shown by little squares cut in the lining.
Another drive was that across Salinas Valley,
through the bright and prosperous town of Salinas,
up the steep San Juan grade, where one may eat
luncheon on a green slope commanding a lovely
view, and down into the little old town of San Juan,
where stands the mission of San Juan Baptista,
with its long cloisters still intact. Next to the Mis-
sion is an open square which is said to have been
the scene of bull fights in the old Spanish days.
HE NEW YORK
'UBLIC LIBRARY
ASTOR. LPNOX
TfLO N FOUNDATIONS
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 33
A day was spent in driving over the Salinas
road and the Rancho del Monte road, on through
a lovely valley, up over the mountain along a shelf-
like road, and down into Carmel Valley ; then along
another mountain road by a stream, and up again
to the lush meadows of a private ranch twelve hun-
dred feet above the sea. We left the car at the foot
of the hill and drove in a farm wagon to the ranch
house. We visited the vineyard on a sunny slope
back of the house, so sheltered that grapes grow
by the ton. We climbed into heavy Mexican
saddles, ornately stamped, with high pommel
and back, and rode astride sturdy horses over
steep rounding hills through thick grass to view
points where we could look down on Carmel Valley
and off to the silvery sea. As we retraced our
journey in the afternoon sunlight, a bobcat came
out from the forest and trotted cahnly ahead of us.
A beautiful deer ran along the stream, his ears mov-
ing with alarm, his eyes watching us with fear and
wonder. A great snake lay curled in the middle of
the road and we ran over him before we really saw
him. He made a feeble attempt to coil, but the
heavy machine finished him. He was only a harm-
less ring snake, whose good office it is to kill the go-
34 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
phers that destroy the fruit trees, so we were sorry
we had ended his useful career. He was the first
of many snakes that we killed in California. Some-
times they lay straight across our road; sometimes
they were stretched out in the ruts of the road and
our wheels went over them before we could possi-
bly see them; sometimes they made frantic efforts,
often successful, to escape our machine ; we always
gave them a fighting chance.
It seemed that we would never tear ourselves
away from the Monterey Peninsula. We wandered
through the beautiful grounds of the Hotel del
Monte with their ancient live oaks. We walked
and mused along the streets of Monterey, where
Robert Louis Stevenson once walked and mused.
We rejoiced in the sight of a lovely old Spanish
house at the head of Polk Street, carefully kept
up by its present owner. We saw the Sherman
Rose cottage, the old home of Sherman's Spanish
love, and the Sherman-Halleck quarters, and the
old Hall of Records. We stopped to gaze at old
adobe dwelling houses, some with thick walls roofed
with tile around their yards ; some with second floor
galleries, supported by plain, slender wooden posts,
roses clambering over them.
BY. THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 35
We visited the San Carlos Mission on the edge
of the town. Unlike the deserted little church at
Carmel, San Carlos is in excellent repair, perfectly
kept and in constant use. There they show you
some of the old vestments said to be Father Serra's
own. There you may see his silver mass cards,
with their Latin inscriptions engraved upon the
upright silver plate, reading: "In the beginning
was the Word," etc. The same beaten silver water
bucket which Father Serra used for holy water is
to-day used by the incumbent priest. On the walls
are the adoring angels which Father Serra taught
the Indians to paint. One of the special treasures
of the Mission is Father Serra's beautiful beaten
gold chalice, a consecrated vessel touched only by
the priests. Back of the church is kept as a pre-
cious possession the stump of the old oak tree un-
der which Father Serra celebrated his first mass
and took possession of CaHfornia in the name of
Spain. The spot where the oak tree stood, on the
highway between Monterey and Pacific Grove, is
marked by a modest stone just below Presidio Hill.
We browsed about the curio and gift shops of
Monterey, and the "Lame Duck's Exchange" of
Pacific Grove. We saw Asilomar (Retreat-by-the-
86 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
Sea), the fine conference grounds of the Young
Women's Christian Associations of the Pacific
Coast, whose commodious assembly and living halls
are the gift of Mrs. Phoebe Hearst. We learned
the delicious flavor, on many picnics, of the Cali-
fornia ripe olive. One might be dubious about the
satisfying quality of Omar Khayam's bottle of wine
and loaf of bread "underneath the bough." But
with the loaf of bread and plenty of California
olives one could be perfectly content. I could have
a feast of Lucullus any day in California on aba-
lone soup, with its delicate sea flavor, bread, and
olives.
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAYj 37
CHAPTER III
Ah well! one cannot stay forever on the Mon-
terey Peninsula to hear the sighing of the wind in
the pines and the lapping of the waves on the
shore. One cannot take the Seventeen Mile Drive
day after day to see the wind-twisted cypresses, to
come upon the lovely curve of Carmel Bay, and to
look down from "the high drive" upon the Bay and
town of Monterey far below, for all the world like a
Riviera scene. Once more we turn our faces
southward and drive through the broad streets of
Pacific Grove along the mile of coast road to Mon-
terey, and from Monterey into the country where
masses of lupine paint the hills blue on the right,
and live oaks dot the gi^een valley stretches on the
left. Coming into Salinas Valley we drive through
hundreds of acres of level beet fields, south of the
88 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
town of Salinas. AVe meet a redheaded, shock-
bearded man with his sun-hat tied on, walking
alongside a rickety moving-wagon drawn by two
poor horses. He responds most cheerfully to our
question concerning directions. As we pass his
wagon a big family of little children crane their
young necks to see us. The mother in their midst,
a thin, shabby looking woman, holds up her tiny
baby for me to see as I look back, and I wave con-
gratulations in response. Later, near Santa Maria,
we pass another moving party eating supper. They
are prosperous looking people, very different from
the forlorn, toiling little party outside of Salinas.
They are comfortably encamped in a grassy spot,
and the woman waves to me with a big loaf of bread
in one hand and her bread knife in the other. I
wave with equal heartiness to her. This is part of
the charm of the open road, these salutations and
this jolly passing exchange of sympathy, not be-
tween two ships that pass in the night, but between
two parties who enjoy the air and the open, and
who are one in gypsy spirit. It all belongs in the
happy day.
Salinas Valley is very different from the lovely
valleys which we have thus far seen. Sonoma Val-
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 39
ley is a rolling, irregular valley, part grain fields,
part rough, hilly pasturage. Napa Valley, narrow
at the south, wide toward the north, with orchards
and pleasant homes, breathes of order and shut-in
prosperity. Santa Clara Valley is a Napa Valley
on a grander scale. Its surrounding hills are higher,
its spaces are wider. Salinas Valley is a grain-
growing valley, its fields of grain stretching away
up into the foothills. As we proceed south we
observe that the fields encroach more and more
upon the hills, their rich greenness running quite
far up on the hill slopes. The line of demarcation
between the growing grain and the rough pasture
slopes is as clean as if drawn by a pencil. It is
here in Salinas Valley that we first notice the park-
like appearance of many green stretches of field
with live oaks growing here and there. It would
almost seem that the oaks had been planted with a
view to park effects, instead of being part of the
original forest which had been cut down to make
way for the grain fields. We pass through the little
town of Soledad (Soltitude) near which are the
poor ruins of the Mission of our Lady of Soledad.
We judge that Soledad must have a cosmopolitan
population when we read such names as Sneible,
40 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
Tavernetti, and Espinosa on the town's signs. Here
and there we see where the Sahnas River has eaten
great pieces out of its banks, during the spring
freshets. We had seen the same thing in Carmel
Valley, where a man lost a large piece of his orchard
by its falling bodily into the raging Carmel river.
The streams of California are not like the streams
of New England, clear and deep with winey brown
depths. They are shallow streams with earth banks,
but in the time of the spring rains they become
wild torrents. Late in the afternoon we pass King
City on the opposite bank of the river, glorified by
the afternoon sunshine. It looks like a picture
town, its buildings taking on castle-like propor-
tions from a distance. We then come over the Jolon
Grade, and descend through a little wooded valley
that has a particular charm. I do not know its
name, but it cast a certain spell that lingers with
me. It is a narrow valley with stretches of thick
green grass under forest trees, and has a quality of
seclusion that I have not felt in the wide acres of
grain in the great Salinas Valley. It is as if the
forest had been only partly cut away and the ad-
vance of the grazier and the grain grower were but
partly accomplished.
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 41
We come into Jolon, a country crossroads hamlet,
past "Dutton's," a most comfortable and homelike
country hotel, if one may judge by appearances. I
am sorry not to stop for the night. I am always
attracted to these country inns when they have hos-
pitable porches and a general look of homely com-
fort. I should be glad, too, to take the six mile de-
tour from the main road in order to see the ruins of
the San Antonio Mission. But we have been told
that the Mission is in such a ruined state, one of
the thick walls having fallen in, that it is as well
not to see it.
Our next valley, even lovelier than the others, is
Lockwood's Valley, a beautiful stretch of grain
fields. By a bend in the road we are driving east
with the western sun setting behind us. High hills
form a background for the green fields of oats and
barley. The whole valley with its few ranch houses
and its great fields breathes a country peace. Look-
ing back, I still regret that we could not have had
time to go half a mile off the main road and try
the merits of the Lockwood Inn.
But we drive on through the valley over a slight
pass and come to an adobe ranch house on the left,
sitting modestly back on a slight knoll against a
42 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
background of bare hills. At the ranch gate is a
sign to the effect that this is Aloha Ranch Inn, and
that meals can be had at all hours. It is the word
Aloha that catches us. Surely someone must live
here who knows the lovely Hawaiian Islands with
their curving cocoanut palms, and their emerald
shores. So we turn into the drive and find a kindly
farmer, master of his six hundred acres in this
lone valley, who with his wife gives us warm wel-
come. He does indeed know Hawaii, having lived
and worked on the famous Ewa sugar plantation
for nearly twenty years. We have a homely but
appetizing supper, and a dreamless night's sleep in
one of the farmhouse bedrooms. The next morn-
ing is gloriously beautiful, and we drive on our way.
In order to avoid fording the Salinas river, which
is very high, we make our journey by way of In-
dian Valley, through hilly, rather lonely country.
All along the river there are signs of the devasta-
tion made by the unusual spring rains. The river
banks are gouged out and the railroad bridges are
down, the rails being twisted into fantastic shapes.
In passing San Miguel we stop to see the Mission,
which is in a fair state of repair and in constant use.
One of the beautiful toned old bells of the Mission
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 43
is hung in a framework outside the church, where
the visitor may sound it. The new bell is unfortu-
nately suspended from the top of an immense iron,
derrick-like structure which stands outside the
church, and is unsightly. The interior of the
church is very fine. It is a lofty structure, fifty feet
high and one hundred and fifty feet long, its walls
covered with frescoes in rich blues and reds, the
work of the Indians. There are niches for holy
water in the thick old walls and a large niche which
was used for the confessional. Above the altar is
painted the "All- Seeing Eye." The hea\y rafters
of the roof extend through the walls and long wood-
en pins are fitted through the ends to bind the walls
together. Not a nail was used in the entire
structure.
We take luncheon at Paso Robles (Pass of the
Oaks), famed for its healing waters. The hotel is
pleasant and the new bath house with its handsome
marble and tiling is very fine. Many sojourn here
for the medicinal uses of the waters. Between
Paso Robles and San Luis Obispo we come
through a stretch of very beautiful country, part
open forest land, part richly pastoral, the prop-
erty of the Atascadero Company. The Atascadero
44 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
settlement is one of those Utopian plans for happi-
ness and prosperity which bids fair to be realized.
The climate is almost ideal, the scenery is charming,
the country is richly fertile. They tell us that peo-
ple are pouring in from the East and that the colony
is growing constantly. At the north end of the
Atascadero territory we pass a handsome sign
swinging over the road, which reads: "Atascadero
Colony. North End. Ten Miles Long and Seven
Miles wide. Welcome." As we approach the south
end of the ten mile stretch we come upon another
sign whose legend is: "Come again." Turning
back as we pass under the sign we see that its re-
verse legend is the same as that of the north end
sign, save that it is for the south end. So whoever
passes along the main road through Atascadero
property is bound to have the uplifting welcome and
to receive, as he passes on, the kindly farewell. We
congratulate the Atascadero colonists on the lovely
rolling country in whose midst they are to dwell and
on the magnificent live oaks that dot their park-like
fields. San Luis Obispo is quite a large town, but
the Mission of San Luis Obispo has been spoiled
by being incorporated into the new church and
school plant. One catches only a glimpse of broken
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 45
cloisters within the school enclosure. I stepped
into the church as we drove by in the late afternoon,
and saw the children coming in for prayer and for
confession. Little stubby-toed boys tip-toed in,
kneeling awkwardly but reverently, and crossing
themselves with holy water ; while from the confes-
sional came the low murmur of some urchin making
his confession.
Not long after leaving San Luis Obispo, near Ni-
pomo-by-the-Sea, I had the misfortune to lose my
leather letter case. We were horror struck when
we found it gone and turned about just before
reaching Santa Maria to retrace our steps across the
long bridge and then across a wide stretch of dry,
sandy river bed. The ravages of the floods had torn
a much wider path for the river than it now used,
so that for nearly a mile we drove over sandy river
bottom, the river being a shrunken stream. To our
great joy we met another motor car, and found that
the three gentlemen in it had picked up my bag
and were bringing it along to Santa Maria in the
hope of finding the owner. What had promised to
be a long and tiring search, involving the question-
ing of every passer-by and inquiry at every wayside
house for miles, turned out to be only a short drive.
46 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
We turned toward Santa Maria and went on our
way rejoicing.
Santa Maria is a large, prosperous, attractive
town. On toward Los Olivos the country is like
some parts of New England, attractive but lonely.
We are glad to reach in the twilight the hos-
pitable lights of Mattei's Tavern at Los Olivos.
Mr. Mattel is Swiss by birth, but has spent
many years in California. He has a ranch whose
acres supply his unusually good table with vegeta-
bles, poultry, and flowers. His house is kept with
the neatness and comfort of an excellent Swiss inn,
and is a delightful place for a sojourn. We are
sorry to come away on the morning of the first of
May. We pass dozens of wagons and buggies, the
people all in holiday attire, coming into town for
the May-day celebrations. Los Olivos was once an
olive growing valley, but grain growing has been
found more profitable. We wish to see the Santa
Ynez mission and therefore take the route to the
right, avoiding the road to Santa Barbara by way
of Santa Ynez and the San Marcos Pass. The
Santa Ynez Mission has a situation of unusual
beauty. It stands on a tableland with a circle of
mountains behind it, and at its left a low green
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 47
valley stretching away into the distance. A Dan-
ish settlement of neat new houses of modern type
faces the old Mission. The church has been re-
stored, and ten years of loving care have been be-
stowed upon it by the present priest and his niece.
The choice old vestments have been mended with
extreme care. The ladies of the Spanish Court are
said to have furnished the rich brocades for these
vestments, which were sent on from Spain and made
up at the Mission. It is an ancient custom for the
Indians to wash the handwoven linen vestments,
a custom they stiU observe. The walls of Santa
Ynez are about seven feet thick, and the Mission
was some thirteen years in building. Roses climb
over the cloisters, and the whole Mission is very
attractive.
From the Mission we drive over the Gaviota
(Seagull) Pass, the mountain road being rough,
narrow, and very picturesque. Fine old live oaks
and white oaks grow on the rough hillsides. As one
approaches the little seaside station of Gaviota the
rocks are very grand. Suddenly we come upon the
sea, and the blue waters that are part of the charm
of Santa Barbara stretch before us. The scenery
from Gaviota to Santa Barbara is one of the finest
48 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
stretches along the entire coast. Three misty is-
lands are to be seen off the coast, set in an azure
sea. They belong to the Santa Barbara group;
Anacapa, Santa Cruz, Santa Rosa, and San Mi-
guel. As one approaches Santa Barbara one sees
farmhouses in the midst of lovely farming country
on points jutting into the sea and commanding ex-
quisite views of the water. The last ten miles be-
fore reaching Santa Barbara we drive through an
unbroken stretch of English walnut orchards, the
trees carefully pruned and in admirable condition.
We have come through the rolling pastures and
grain fields of Sonoma Valley, through the fruit
orchards of Napa Valley and Santa Clara Valley,
through the unbroken grain fields of Salinas Valley
and Lockwood's Valley, and through the diversi-
fied cultivation of the valley around Los Olivos;
and now we are driving into famous Santa Barbara
through ten miles of walnut groves, garden-like in
their cultivation.
Reaching Santa Barbara, we have tea at the Stu-
dio Tea Room, which utilizes for its purpose a fa-
mous old Spanish residence. We then establish
ourselves at The Upham, and a very pleasant hotel
we find it. For those who wish a larger and more
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 49 i
fashionable inn there are the beautiful Arlington ,
Hotel, with its fascinating, tiny models of the his- I
toric caravels San Salvador and Vittoria upon the \
gate posts at its entrance; and the Potter, by the
sea. Santa Barbara lies in a pocket valley with
the red brown Santa Ynez mountains rising behind
it and the sea in front of it. Some of the most beau- i
tiful residences are at the north of the town in the
foothills. Italian sunshine, Italian softness of cli-
mate, the enchanting colors of the hills, the blue of
the sea, charming drives and walks, all these are to ]
be had at Santa Barbara; and there is the Mission
with its old church and the dignified priests of its
brotherhood. Fine trees stand in the beautiful en- j
closed garden of the Mission, where five thousand
Indians are buried. j
Four miles south of Santa Barbara are Mon- !
tecito Valley and the delightful Miramar Hotel !
on the sea. A very pleasant suburban colony is i
grouped around the hotel. The hotel itself has ^
within its grounds its own rose-embowered cottages.
One may live in a bungalow and have one's own fire- |
side, one's own sitting room and bed chamber, one's
own rose-covered porch, one's own home life, and
go into the hotel oiily for m^s and for sociability's j
50 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
sake. It is an ideal winter life for those who wish
all the orderly, luxurious comfort of a well man-
aged inn, together with the privacy of home life in
a rose cottage. We drove through lovely little
Montecito Valley, catching glimpses of fine houses
rising against a picturesque mountain background,
some in the Mission style of architecture, some in
Italian and some in Spanish style. The lawns of
one estate were surrounded by long hedges of pink
roses. We turned south through Toro Valley
where I recall a most beautiful hillside olive or-
chard, the trees being planted on the slope sheltered
from the sea and facing the mountains. They were
as beautiful in their fresh grey-greenness as any
olive orchard that we saw in all California. Leav-
ing Miramar we drove on along the coast to Ven-
tura, the road running by the sea and in some
places on long platforms built out over the water.
At Ventura we turned west and came to Nordhoff,
the bridge being down on the Casitas Pass. We
had a somewhat lonely evening drive through a
green fruited valley from Ventura to NordhofF,
and reached our hostel, the Pierpont Cottages, a
few miles from Nordhoif , late in the evening. We
were more than ready for supper and for rest in a
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 51
lovely private cottage, through whose open case-
ment long sprays of pink roses climbed in. The
morning revealed to us the rare beauties of the se-
cluded Ojai Valley, in whose foothills stand the
Pierpont Inn and cottages, 1000 feet above sea
level.
It would be hard to exaggerate the charm and
beauty of the Ojai Valley for those who like its
type of scenery. A magnificent wall of stone moun-
tain, whose colors run into greys, pinks, lavenders,
and yellows, forms the eastern boundary of the
valley. On its level floor are luxuriant orchards.
Here in warm protection grow the fig, the olive,
the orange, and the lemon. The beautiful Matilija
poppies grow in great luxuriance here, their tall
grey-green stalks and white crape petals with gol-
den hearts being very effective. I had seen the
Matilija poppies for the first time growing in the
gardens of Santa Barbara. I now saw them grow-
ing wild on the slopes of the Ojai Valley foothills.
Above the Pierpont Cottages are the buildings of a
famous boys' school high in the foothiUs. For those
who love warmth and glowing color, long tramps
and long horseback rides into the mountain defiles
above the valley, the Ojai is an ideal place to spend
S2 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
a charmed winter. We came away in the morning
light, driving across the valley to the main road
and ascending a steep hill to the Upper Ojai road.
A glorious view of the whole valley unrolled before
us, level as a floor, with its rich masses of fig trees
and its shining orange and lemon trees, their green
broken here and there by trim houses. Higher up
were the cottages of the Pierpont Inn, and higher
still the big building of the school, all over-topped
by the great masses of the mountains behind. I
felt that I should like to build a bungalow on the
spot and live and die there.
We come on by a very rough, narrow, bumpy,
and precipitous mountain road, past the summer
cottages of Sulphur Springs into the Santa Paula
Valley. We pass people planting young orchards
of lemons and oranges, and we come through de-
files, the bare, rugged hills rising above us on both
sides. Sometimes these hills are clay-colored.
Sometimes they are painted a delicate lavender by
whole hillsides of blooming sage; sometimes sage
not yet in bloom covers the hills with a delicate
grey-green mantle. Other hillsides are a bright
yellow from a yellow, string-like plant that nets
itself in great masses over the entire slope. On the
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 53
whole the country until we reach Santa Paula is
rather bare. At Santa Paula there is a very pleas-
ant inn. It was at Santa Paula that I saw a school-
house enclosure surrounded by a hedge-like row of
trees, every tree a blooming mass of glorious yellow.
At Sespe we passed a very prosperous lemon
and orange orchard of immense size where they
were planting fresh orchards of slender young
trees. Before we reached Saugus we had to ford
the Santa Clara River, the bridge being down. We
stuck in the soft sand in mid-river and T. was
obliged to wade through the shallow water to the
shore behind us, which happened to be nearest, to go
in search of a countryman and horses. In the
meantime I took off my boots and stockings and
waded across to the far side of the stream. There
I was just lacing my boots when a young gentle-
man appeared driving a small car. He debated
as to the risk of driving across stream, but decided
to try it. Driving slowly he succeeded in getting
through and turned to wave his hat in triumph.
I waved back and he pushed on his way. Soon T.
appeared with a countryman driving two stout
horses. They quickly pulled the car across and
their master received a dollar for his services.
54 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
After an indifferent lunch at the Saugus railway
station we went on over the fine Newhall grade,
through Fernando and the great San Fernando
Valley, through the brand new town of Van Nuys,
and the settlement of Lankershim and the hand-
some suburb of Hollywood into Los Angeles. The
San Fernando Valley, a wide plain with mountains
in the far distance, has been turned by the magic of
water from a vast, scrubby desert into a fruitful re-
gion, rapidly becoming populous. The San Fer-
nando Mission Company has placed in front of the
old San Fernando Mission on the broad highway
which now runs past the Mission a charming flower
garden. The bright flowers blaze out in the after-
noon sun against a background of fragments of
grey adobe wall. The Mission itself has but little
to show. A caretaker lives in the fragment of the
old monastery and shows one through the few de-
serted and dingy rooms. The finest thing in San
Fernando Valley is the new boulevard which sweeps
through the valley to Los Angeles and is known
as the $500,000 boulevard. It is largely due to the
generalship of Mr. Whitely, who is a Napoleon of
real estate. Through the middle of the boulevard
,,,^£^:^
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 55
runs the electric car line. On each side of the car
line is a border of rose bushes of different varieties.
Outside of this border are two fine roads, one on
either side; and again outside of these roads is a
wonderful border planted in the following order:
first, a line of rose bushes, and second, a line of In-
dian deodars, first cousins to the Lebanon cedars,
these deodars alternating in their planting with a
flowering shrub; third, comes a line of Austrian
and other varieties of pines; fourth, is planted a
row of palm trees. At present this planting is in
its early stages, but when roses, shrubs, and ever-
greens are larger, as they will soon be under the
bright California sun, the effect will be very rich
and beautiful. Van Nuys has a fine new school-
house, and shining new dwellings of white glazed
brick, built in the Italian and the Spanish style.
California specializes in schoolhouses and street
lamps. In the newest and in some instances in the
most isolated settlements, you will find beautiful
schoolhouses, an earnest of the children and the
education that are to be ; and all over California in
country villages one finds the main streets lined
with ornate lamp standards surmounted by hand-
56 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
some globes. They give an air even to sordid little
streets lined by saloons, country groceries, and dry-
goods emporiums.
California is not afraid to spend money for edu-
cation. Her school buildings, many of them in the
Mission style, would make Eastern towns of the
same size gasp with amazement.
Hollywood with its lovely villas is a popular and
beautiful suburb of Los Angeles, and seems almost
like a second Los Angeles save that it is among the
hills instead of on the plain.
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 57
CHAPTER IVj
Los Angeles is unique. Where will you find
another city hke it, so open, so bright, with such
handsome apartment houses, designed for hght
housekeeping, such multitudes of cafeterias?
Where will you find such a green square of civic
center with people sitting quietly about, enjoying
the sunshine, the splashing of the fountain, the
tameness of the starlings? These are the happy,
not the unhappy, unemployed. They have come
from far and near to live simply in light house-
keeping apartments, to bask in the sunshine, many
of them to enjoy a sunny old age on a modest but
comfortable income. The last census, they tell us,
shows that 80 per cent of the Los Angeles people
are from the State of Iowa. But from all the Mid-
dle West they have fled from the cold winters to
58 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
the warmth of this big city which really seems to be
not a city at all, but an immense collection of open
parks, bright houses, and handsome streets. Thou-
sands of people are pouring into Los Angeles every
year. Great fields around the city have been in-
cluded within the city limits, fine streets with ornate
lamps and copings have been cut through them,
handsome stucco and shingle villas have been
erected. These are homes of well-to-do people who
mean to spend at least part of each year, if not the
rest of their lives, in Los Angeles. It is all a puz-
zle, this phenomenal growth of the city. It is not
wholly due to business, for the most prosperous
business man in Los Angeles is probably the real
estate dealer, who has plotted the fields, added new
streets, and sold at ever-increasing prices the villa
and home sites. The merchant and the provision
dealer do well, but after all, their territory is the city
itself. There is no great hinterland with which to
deal. It is not due to manufacturing interests, for
as yet these have been but little developed. It must
be, as a lady said to me, *'the sale of the climate," an
unfailing stock of sunshine that has made Los An-
geles the happy, growing, extremely prosperous
city that it is.
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 59
One may choose from many hotels one's hostel,
or one may live in a beautiful apartment, cook one's
own breakfast of bacon and eggs, and sally forth to
any one of a dozen cafeterias for luncheon and din-
ner. We found the Hotel Leighton on West Lake
Park eminently satisfactory ; a spacious, quiet, well
managed establishment with the spaces of the park
before it and the cars within three minutes' walk.
From Los Angeles we drove through the San
Gabriel Valley, dominated by snow covered JMount
San Antonio, to Long Beach. The valley is a
panorama of new suburban towns, market gardens,
and walnut groves. Long Beach is a mixture of
Coney Island, Atlantic City, and a solid, substan-
tial inland town. Its public buildings are very fine,
its churches being particularly handsome. Its big
Hotel Virginia reminds one of the handsome hotels
along the boardwalk at Atlantic City, and its long
arcade of amusement halls, cheap jewelry shops,
and other booths for seaside trinkets is like Coney
Island. This stretch of amusement halls and shops
lies along the seashore at a lower level than the city
proper, and does not impart its character to the rest
of the town. It was at Long Beach that I first
heard a night-singing bird, somewhat like the night-
60 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
ingale. The little creature sang gaily all night long
in the park opposite our hotel. Long Beach and
San Pedro are both sailing points for Santa Cata-
lina Island, twenty-five miles away, whose purple-
grey heights can be dimly seen across the water.
The trip to Catalina is in rather small boats, and
is likely to be somewhat trying; but the trials of
the two or three hours of voyage are amply awarded
by the Island itself.
Santa Catalina has a curving, sickle-shaped har-
bor around which cluster the hotels and boarding
houses which make the home of the summer guests.
This little white village against a background of
hilly country, taking on lovely lavender and grey
tints at sunset, is not unlike some of the towns on
the picturesque coast of Cornwall. Santa Cata-
lina is a paradise for deep-sea fishermen, a lotus
eaters' island where one may walk over the hills
into the quiet interior or take a boat and dream
along the rocks, gazing down for hours at the beau-
ties of the gardens of the sea: I would advise all
tourists to take time to visit these swaying groves
of kelp and other sea plants in a row boat. One
sees them in this way far more intimately and sat-
isfactorily than by a more hurried inspection. In
A -Sif
1
T3
C
cs
c
c J2
si
THE NEW YOr.K
PUBLIC LIBRARY
ASTOR. LENOX
TILDEN FOUNDA'IONS
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 61
the late afternoon everyone at Catalina gathers at
the pier to see the fishermen come in with their
spoils. Boat after boat is seen approaching. They
round the pier and the big fish are lifted up for all
to admire. Then come the weighing and the clean-
ing of the fish. The seagulls hover near, ready for
their share of the spoils, as the entrails of the fish
are thrown into the sea. A tame seal swims around
from his home on the rocks several miles away in
order to have his portion of the feast. At the time
of our visit he was in a fit of sulks, as a fisherman
had struck him on the head with an oar because he
had tried to clamber into a boat in his zeal for his
supper. A unique experience at Catalina is an
evening ride in a swift motor boat equipped with
a powerful searchlight. Faster and faster goes the
boat in the darkness, the searchlight swinging from
side to side over the wide waters. The flying fish,
startled by the sweep of the light upon the water,
leap wildly into the air. The air is full of them,
and of the sound of their rushing wings. Plump!
Here comes one into the boat ! and here's another,
and another! We shield our faces with our hands,
shouting with laughter as the fish fall with a thump
into the boat, sometimes on the laps of the passen-
62 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
gers. More than one passenger has been struck
by a flying fish, and our landlady tells us of a tou-
rist who went out for an evening ride in the motor
boat to return with a black eye from the blow of a
frightened flying fish. Flying fish is delicious eat-
ing, and our catch is divided up among the passen-
gers. We were attracted to this excursion when we
first landed at Catalina by a startling advertisement
describing the experience as "Thousands of flying
fish tangoing through the air."
Catalina Island is a quiet spot, outside its little
rim of houses along its curving harbor. The pe-
destrian may go inland for a number of miles, tak-
ing his luncheon with him, and have only the hills
and the birds for his company. We had such a walk,
and saw a hawk alight and settle himself calmly
upon a fencepost, holding in his talons a newly
captured snake. The creature was still alive, its
body ringed in a rigid hoop in its effort to escape.
But the cruel claws held it fast, and its captor was
preparing to finish it with his sharp beak. We were
told that the dust from Santa Ana Valley, twenty-
five miles away, could be seen approaching in a grey
cloud across the water on windy days from shore-
ward. Our landlady deplored such days, when her
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 63
immaculate house was covered with the dust of the
distant mainland. Santa Catalina, a grey green
agate in the sunlight, a purple amethyst at twilight,
ringed by lovely seas, is well worth a visit.
Returning to Long Beach, we drove on toward
San Diego, through the Santa Ana Valley to San
Juan Capistrano. As we came through the great
valley in which lie Santa Ana, Fullerton, and Ana-
heim, we passed fruitful groves of lemons and vast
fields of beets. We observed an odd optical illus-
ion as we came near Tustin. All the fields before
us seemed to be covered with water, and we at first
thought that the irrigating streams had been turned
on and were flowing through them. But as we
reached the fields we found them perfectly dry.
Field after field stretched before us apparently
swimming in water, and field after field as we came
near we found dry and brown under the sun. This
occurred more than once in southern California as
we were driving along in the sunlight.
At San Juan Capistrano we stopped to see one
of the most beautiful Missions in all California.
The cloisters of San Juan, the ruins of the very fine
old church, the bells in their places above the walls,
all are extremely picturesque and beautiful. At
64 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
San Juan with its quaint little street we found twc
hotels, both of which had attractions. The Mission
Hotel offered us Spanish cooking, attractive to one
fond of red pepper and high seasoning. Las Rosas
looked like a pleasant country home turned by some
enterprising woman into an inn. We chose Las
Rosas and had an excellent home dinner there.
From San Juan Capistrano we drove on south to
Delmar, where we spent the night at the Stratford
Inn. This hotel, which sits flower-encircled on its
sandy hillside overlooking the blue seas, has every
modern appointment and luxury. The settlement
does not yet seem to have attracted a large cottage
population, but there are some homes of very
charming architecture and with beautiful gardens.
We walked up the picturesque hills back of the
hotel, and came at their summit to the precipitous
edge of a great bowl from which we looked down
upon a green valley stretching away many miles
in extent.
From Delmar the next morning we again drove
south with the sea on our right and the hills on our
left. The road winds over very hilly country
through a growth of rare pines known as the Tor-
rey pines, found only here. From the heights of
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 65
these hills one sees at a distance a point of land
stretching into the sea, with a little town shining on
its slopes like a jewel in the sun. It looks, as
one approaches it from the north, like a Riviera
town. This is the enchanted spot on the south-
thern coast known as La Jolla (pronounced La
Hoya) , a little town frequented by people who love
the Spanish warmth of the Southern sun and the
blue of the Southern sea. Here is a beautiful Epis-
copal school for girls, its stucco buildings planned
in Spanish fashion. Here is a charming little
church of the same architecture. Here, perched on
the rocks, looking out to sea along the coast fringe
of the town, are flat-roofed stucco houses with a
matchless view of the water. Farther back on the
hills overlooking the town, are lovely winter homes,
also built in the architecture of Southern countries.
La Jolla is one of the loveliest spots on the whole
Pacific Coast. Its rocks, its caves, its Southern
sea, its sunshine, all combine to make it a delightful
place in which to spend a winter.
La Jolla is only fourteen miles from San Diego,
and it was an easy drive from there into the bright,
clean, shining city of the South. San Diego is at
present in a state of transition, the transition from
66 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
a little city to a big city. She has a matchless har-
bor, plenty of room in which to grow, and what is
becoming a rich surrounding country. She has a
perfect situation, with the harbor before her and
the hills rising behind her. When the rails connect
her with the "back country" she will undoubtedly
become a powerful city.
What could be more beautiful than the drive
from San Diego out along the point which curves
like a great claw into the sea and is known as Point
Loma? The road first sweeps along close to the
water, passing rows of pretty suburban homes.
Then it rises, swings up over the hills on to the high
ridge of Point Loma proper, the open sea to the
right, the harbor to the left, passing the beautifully
kept grounds of the fine property belonging to the
School of Theosophy. Beyond, the road still
climbs until it comes to the end of the Point, on
which stands a little old Spanish lighthouse, now
abandoned. High above the sea one looks off to the
far away islands. Turning about, one sees the
city, white in the sun, the mountains rising in the
distance behind it. Running out from the city is a
long, narrow strip of land which widens into Coro-
nado Beach, with the red roofs of the hotel and the
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 67
green stretches of the beautiful little town of Coro-
nado. Just below is the blue water of the great
harbor. It is a grand view, and ranks in my opinion
with the noble views of Sydney Harbor in Austra-
lia and of Auckland harbor in New Zealand.
San Diego, like her sister cities of Los Angeles
and San Francisco, is a town frequented by tour-
ists. Many are the hotels and apartment houses,
devoted to winter sojourns and light housekeeping,
offset by excellent cafeterias. There are plenty
of excursions from San Diego, a short one
being to the Spanish house in the village of
old San Diego, known as the home of Ra-
mona. The old house with its walled garden and
its wide porches has been put in order and is now
used as a depot for curios and Indian goods. An-
other delightful trip, somewhat longer, is to Gross-
mont. Grossmont is, in spite of its name, a little
mountain, some fifteen miles back of San Diego,
It is an irregular heap of rocks, rising from rather
barren surrounding country. Mr. Fletcher of
San Diego first saw the possibilities of Gross-
mont and marked out the road which now runs
around the mountain to its summit. Here are the
modest houses of an artist and literary colony,
68 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
among them the cottage of Madame Schumann-
Heinck. From the porches of these cottages,
perched high upon the bare rocks, one looks down
upon the exquisite little El Cajon (The Box) Val-
ley, where grow lemons, oranges, and other fruits
in beautiful green luxuriance. El Cajon could
once have been bought for a song, but now its fer-
tile acres, under the spell of irrigation, are worth
many thousands.
Beyond El Cajon rise the superb mountains of
the South in all their rocky grandeur. They take
on most wonderful colors ; warm clay yellows, rich
browns, lavenders, tints of ashes of rose. They are
constantly changing as the day advances, and are a
world of color. No wonder that singers, poets, and
artists love to look upon the glowing greens below
and the glowing lavenders afar. The view from
Grossmont is extremely poetic and beautiful.
We should have considered our visit to California
very incomplete without having seen San Diego, its
Southern seas and its fascinating "back country."
It is wholly different from Los Angeles, and the
charm of the South is over it all. Were I a young
business man, seeking to cast in my lot with a grow-
ing California city, I should cast it in San Diego.
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 69
From San Diego we proceeded through El Ca-
jon Valley to the little town of Julian, nearly
4000 feet high. That was a memorable ride,
taking us through green valleys and then up, up
through broken hill country and past heavy oak
and pine forests and rich mountain pastures. In
going over Mussey's Grade I saw, for the first time,
growing on the rocky hillsides groups of tall yuc-
cas. I could not be content until I had climbed out
of the motor and cut one of the towering stalks,
springing from a mass of thick, sword-shaped
leaves. Its white scented bells covered the stalk
from top to bottom. It was a tree of creamy bloom
and perfume. I laid it on top of our luggage, en-
joying its perfume from time to time; but the beau-
tiful bells began to droop, and by the time the day's
long journey was over the flowers had withered.
Afterward, I saw many of these yuccas growing
in lonely, rocky places, blooming luxuriantly. They
were like tall white candelabra.
On our way to Julian, a few miles from the little
town, by mistake we turned left instead of right,
and had a long wandering through a great moun-
tain country. The roads were narrow, twilight was
coming on, and we found ourselves in a seemingly
70 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
endless forest. Sometimes from high points we had
wonderful sunset glimpses of distant mountains
looming above green valleys. Then again we came
upon lush meadow patches, wide and lonely in the
midst of the hills. Still the road wound on, down
through ravines, up over steep hillsides. Not a
house was to be seen, only the lonely forest and the
deepening darkness. It looked as if we must spend
the night in the woods. At last we came out through
a rough gate into the main road and reading a sign
by the light of a match found that we were a mile
from Julian. It was good to reach the tiny vil-
lage and to find the Robinson House, a very clean
and respectable village inn, kept by an old colored
soldier and his wife. They gave us an excellent
supper and we found a very comfortable bed await-
ing us. We had taken a road through the moun-
tain district back of a beautiful summer inn, known
as the Pine Hills Inn, and had wandered over the
drives planned for the pleasure of summer guests.
We saw the Pine Hills Inn perched upon the
hillside, the next morning. It was only a short dis-
tance from where we had struck the main road for
Julian. We had fully intended to spend a night
at this famous little inn, but must leave that for
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 71
the next time. Julian is famed for its apples, grow-
ing nearly 4000 feet high. We saw a charm-
ing picture of blossoming apple trees, grown
against a dark background of tall mountain pines
which flanked the orchard slope. There is a fa-
mous view near Julian. Looking down from a
break in the hills one sees far, far beyond and be-
low the grey stretches of the desert and the Salton
sea.
From Julian we drove on to Warner's Hot
Springs, where many people resort for the healing
power of the Springs, and where a pleasant little
hotel, surrounded by cottages, makes a delightful
stopping place for those who wish to enjoy the sun-
shine and to pierce the defiles of the mountains
back of the valley of the Springs. The Springs
are on a great ranch which covers thousands of
acres and supports hundreds of cattle. To reach
them one drives over long stretches of plain, partly
rich grass, where cattle feed, partly somewhat bar-
ren country.
Leaving the Hot Springs, we drove again across
the vast sandy stretches and the rich green plains
of the Warner Ranch, coming from there through
picturesque and somewhat broken country to the
72 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
little Pala Mission. Before reaching the Mis-
sion one comes along a mountain road cut like
a shelf into the hill and very high above the valley.
The little town which is the seat of the Mission is
reached by a long descent. The most interesting
thing about the Mission now is its bells, which are
set so that the wall in whose open niches they are
hung makes a picturesque framework for them.
Leaving the town we came on through a deep and
rocky canyon, whose scenery was wild and moun-
tainous. From this we emerged into a broad valley
which grew more beautiful as we traveled north-
ward. Wide grain ranches stretched away to the
right, walled in by the massive ramparts of Nellie
Palomar Mountain. Other ranches stretched to the
left, ending in the foothills in rich groves of olive
trees. We were traveling through Temecula on
our way to Elsinore, a town of hot springs. There
we spent a comfortable night at a hotel situated on
a little lake. The lake in the evening light with the
olive orchards stretching down to its waters from
the foothills opposite was very charming. From
Elsinore we drove on in the morning through an
open canyon, where Matilija poppies grew plenti-
fully, to Corona. Corona is a lovely little town
THE NEW YORK
IpU BUG LIBRARY]
TILDEN FOUNDA JCN?
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 73
belted by an encircling boulevard, broad and
shaded. It lies in a fertile valley whose plains and
hill-slopes are covered by thousands of lemon trees,
tended with a mother's care. Above the valley rise
the mountains on the distant horizon. One can see
lemons being gathered, flowers blooming, and new
groves being planted in the valley, and then look
up to snow-capped peaks beyond. Here lemon
orchards are valued at $2,000 and more an acre.
When the trees have reached the bearing stage and
are in good condition, lemon orchard land is a gold
mine. We heard of people who rented their or-
chards on the basis of $2,000 value per acre, receiv-
ing interest on that valuation. We heard also of
successful lemon growers who had purchased large
acreages of lemon-bearing land at $1,000 per acre
and who had within two yesLYS after purchase mar-
keted a crop of lemons whose selling price covered
the entire amount paid for the orchard two years
before.
We visited a big packing house and saw dark
eyed Sicihans, alert and prosperous, sorting, clean-
ing, and packing the lemons. Everything pro-
ceeded with swiftness and yet with orderliness.
Down the long troughs rolled the lemons, each grav-
74 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
itating through a hole according to its size. Into a
bubbhng cauldron they were gently railroaded,
where brushes from above and from below washed
them and pushed them on. With much deft-
ness packers caught a square of tissue paper with
the left hand, a lemon with the right hand and
wrapped the fruit. The filled box was pushed
along a polished runway to the inspector. He
deftly and quickly looked the box over, decided
whether the packing was close and firm, nailed on
a top, and bound the box with supporting iron
bands. It was then ready to go into the freight
car on the track a few feet away, where experienced
men were loading the car with the yellow fruit. We
were told that notwithstanding competition with
the Sicilian and Italian fruit, California lemons had
all the market their owners could wish for. Cer-
tainly when one sees the care with which the fruit
is grown, the mellow sun under which it matures,
and the skillful gathering, cleaning, and packing of
the packing houses, one wishes every right of way
for California lemons. One lemon grower told us
that in the course of the past twenty years he had
advanced hundreds of dollars to his Sicilian labor-
ers who had asked his help to bring over their
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 75
fathers, their brothers, and other relatives. He
said that kinsman after kinsman had been brought
over and had added himself and his work to the
Corona colony, and that their benefactor had never
lost a dollar. All the loans had been conscien-
tiously returned in the course of time.
Calif ornians look forward to a great flood of im-
migration within the next few years, and hope that
Europe will send them the men to till their lands
and cultivate their rich valleys and hill-slopes.
There is plenty of room for them in this splendid
empire of a State,
76 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
CHAPTER V
It was an easy drive from Corona to Riverside,
which we reached in the late afternoon in time for
a sunset drive up and around the corkscrew road
leading to the top of Mt. Rubidoux. No one
should miss the view from the top of Rubidoux
Mountain. While its summit is not at a great
height, yet the mountain is so isolated and the whole
surrounding country is so level a valley that the
view is very extensive. One looks down upon the
town of Riverside, with its pleasant homes and
church steeples; and upon miles of lemon and or-
ange orchards groomed to the last degree of fer-
tility and perfection. It is an immense garden.
Orchards, towns, grassy spaces with a silver river
wmding through them, all give one that sense, ever
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 77
present in California, of happiness, of genial cli-
mate, of unfailing beauty of surrounding.
At Riverside one stays of course, even if but for
a night, at the famous Mission Inn, known as the
Glenwood. Here is the creation of a man who has
brought together in unique and pleasing combina-
tion the features of an inn, of a great curio shop,
of a cathedral, of a happy lounging place. You
may study for hours antique pieces of furniture;
old tapestries, old bells, old bits of stained glass.
You may spend an evening in the great music hall
with its cathedral seats and hsten to the organ
played by a finished and yet popular artist. You
may lounge in an easy chair on a cloistered porch.
All these and many other things you may do at the
wonderful Mission Inn. But the open road called
us and we had time for only one night in Riverside.
We drove from Riverside to Redlands, a particu-
larly charming town. It has a better situation than
Riverside, being on a slope instead of upon a level
plain. It has beautiful streets and hosts of lovely
winter homes of most attractive architecture. The
drive up to Smiley Heights, where one runs
through exquisite gardens along a narrow ridge,
looking down upon a green cultivated valley on the
78 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
one side, and a polished winter city on the other
side, is a dehghtful experience.
From Redlands we drove on to San Bernardino
and thence to Pomona and Claremont. The San
Bernardino Valley has miles of grapes, the vine-
yards being on an immense scale. In California
the grapes are not trained upon arbors. The stalks
are kept low, and in looking over a vineyard one
sees long rows of low growing, stocky vines, and
masses of green foliage. In San Bernardino they
have a fashion of planting windbreaks of ever-
greens around their gardens and smaller vineyards ;
but there are also immense stretches of open coun-
try planted with vines. One vineyard of three
thousand acres has a sign announcing that it is the
largest vineyard in the world. Pomona and Clare-
mont are pleasant towns, Pomona being the seat of
a college. From Claremont we drove on to Pasa-
dena. There are lovely drives about Pasadena, and
one should not neglect to go up along the foot-
hills and from that point of vantage look down
upon the town spread out on the slopes below.
There is now a motor drive up Mt. Wilson, from
which one has extremely grand views, but the Mt.
Wilson drive is to be recommended only to people
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 79
with small, light machines which have a short turn-
ing base. The mountain road is by no means the
equal of the roads one finds in the Alps. It is too
narrow and too hazardous for any but small ma-
chines. For most tourists the nine miles of the Mt.
Wilson road would better be traversed on donkey-
back. For those who love to climb, the winding
road is a delightful walk with views of changing
grandeur. The hotel at the top is a very pleasant
place to stay, and one may have there the glories
of the sunset and the sunrise.
The most lovely avenue in Pasadena, up and
down which one should drive several times, is Or-
ange Grove Avenue. Along the street the feathery
pepper tree and the palm alternate. The strik-
ingly handsome electric lamp standards are of
bronze. Open lawns are characteristic settings for
the beautiful houses which line the avenue. There
are many houses of white or yellow stucco, some of
them set off by delicate iron balconies. Leaving the
finished beauty of Orange Avenue we drove over a
great canyon across which is flung a very ornamen-
tal bridge. The canyon has been turned into a
park, and fine houses stand on its banks, command-
ing from their heights wonderful views.
80 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
We came on through Burbank and once more
into the San Fernando Valley, just bemg opened
up. Here and there were tiny houses and some-
times tents, the first shelters of settlers who were
cultivating their newly acquired patches of land.
We saw people cleaning and plowing their land.
Off to the right were beautiful mountains with
houses and ranches nestled in the foothills. We
drove through the new town of San Fernando and
over the fine highway of the Newhall grade, pass-
ing through a tunnel and going on to Saugus by a
splendid road running all the way from Pasadena.
Just after leaving San Fernando we came through
Sylmar, where a big sign told us that we were pass-
ing "the largest olive orchard in the world." This
is the property of the Los Angeles Olive Growers'
Association. We drove for more than a mile past
the ranks of grey-green trees which stretched away
back to the foothills.
From Saugus we turned toward Mint Canyon.
We were now about to cross the great backbone of
California, running north and south and dividing
the valleys of the coast from the valleys of the in-
terior. We could have crossed by the Tehachapi
Pass, but preferred for this time to drive through
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 81
Mint Canyon and over the Tejon Pass. All along
the Canyon we saw little homesteads planted in
pocket valleys. Here and there were green spots;
orchards newly set out, patches of grain beginning
to grow. Little wooden shacks showed where the
homesteaders had first sheltered their household
goods. The settlers themselves were working in
their fields and orchards. There were long
stretches, too, of rough country where tall yuccas,
sometimes ten feet high, were blooming. At Palm-
dale we came out into a great plain, the mountains
in the distance. A high wind w^as blowing, filling
our eyes with dust. Somewhere on the plain the
searching wind whipped my lightweight motor coat
out of the tonneau where I had stowed it and I saw
it no more. It was literally blown out of sight and
knowledge. We had seen all along advertisements
of "Palmdale Acres," and we now came to the little
town itself, a tiny settlement with flamboyant signs
advertising its high hopes. We read, "Keep your
eye on Palmdale, 10,000 people in 1925." Close to
the sign was the irrigation ditch with a thick stream
of water rushing through. We realized that all the
hopes of Palmdale and all the possibilities of future
population were centered in that stream, which was
82 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
to carry life and fertility to the great dusty plains
before us.
We had taken luncheon at Acton, a sordid little
place with an extremely unattractive wooden hotel,
poor and bare. The luncheon, cooked and served
by a hard working landlady, had been better than
appearances promised. We had had hot beefsteak,
a good boiled potato, some crisp lettuce, and fair
tea. Western people are addicted to green tea, a
great affliction to one accustomed to black tea.
Western hotel keepers would do well to use black
tea for their tourists, as the use of green tea is, so
far as I know, almost unknown in the East.
Our road was rising now and we were approach-
ing Neenach. We were driving along the foot-
hills on the high side of another great valley. As
we came near Neenach we passed an orchard to our
right, the trees loaded with beautiful, velvety green
almonds. To the left was another orchard, filled
with neglected, dying almond trees. We had not
known whether we would find at Neenach a little
town or a corner grocery store. It turned out to
be simply a post office in the home of a young set-
tler who with his wife was just making his start at
ranching. He was a delightful young fellow with
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 83
shining white teeth, clear eyes, and an enthusiasm
that was pleasant to see. A big St. Bernard dog
protected his wife, who looked very picturesque in
her riding costume. Although the ranchman had
been brought up in a city, he had come out to these
foothills, bought one hundred and sixty acres at
$17.50 an acre, driven his well forty feet, got his
water, and planted his cottonwood trees for his
jSrst shade. He was soon to plant his orchard and
start his garden. He told us that he would have
plenty of water, as the mountains on whose foot-
slopes the farm lay were nine miles deep and fifteen
miles long. I asked him about the orchards which
we had just passed, so fruitful on the right, so sad
and neglected on the left. He said that the al-
mond orchards on the left had been planted years
ago by a little colony of people who had three bad
years following their planting. They became dis-
couraged and moved away, abandoning their or-
chards and houses. The orchards which we had
seen full of fruit were of a later planting.
We asked why it was that the great spaces of
Antelope Valley which stretched below the hills
and off to the mountains beyond had not been taken
by settlers. Our young ranchman explained that
84 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
the valley which looked to be about eight miles
across was really thirty miles wide, and that it was
too far from water for people to settle there. I
looked over the immense stretches of the valley
and at the masses of tall, spiky tree-yuccas, and
wished that some way might be found to irrigate
those thousands of acres. If some modern Moses
could strike water from a rock, which would flow
through Antelope Valley, our young settler would
someday look down upon hundreds of houses and
white tents instead of upon lonely forests of yucca.
We drove on from Neenach to the top of the
grade, some 4230 feet. Huge round-shouldered
hills, bare and lonely, rose on each side of us. Com-
ing to the Lebec ranch house, we asked shelter for
the night. These ranch houses are very hospitable
and are willing to take the place of a hotel so far as
they are able. We found the head of the house in
some confusion and anxiety. His cook had left
that morning and the settlement school ma'am had
offered to help with the cooking in the emergency.
One of the ranchmen volunteered to make the bed
in our sleeping room, although he confessed that
he had never made a bed in all his life before. We
ate our supper with the ranchmen, sitting at an oil-
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 85
cloth-covered table. We had hunks of cold meat,
noodle soup with very thick, hearty noodles, stewed
dried peaches, sliced onions, stewed tomatoes, and
good bread and coffee. After a talk before a blaz-
ing open fire with two young electric engineers who,
like ourselves, had sought shelter for the night, we
had a dreamless night's slumber.
In the morning we had a most interesting break-
fast with a long table full of hungry ranchmen.
Next us sat a big fellow who was in a rather pessi-
mistic mood. He spoke sadly of California and its
resources and very v/armly of Virginia. "That's
the place to live!" he said. "You can drive for a
hundred miles here and not see a ranch house or a
schoolhouse or a church worth looking at. In Vir-
ginia it's just like, as a fellow says, *every drink
you take, things look different.' You drive up on
a knoll, and you see before you a lovely farm with
a nice farmhouse, and a well-built barn and out-
houses. Then you drive over another knoll, and
you see another nice farmhouse. Virginia and the
East for me ! In this country you can walk through
foxtail grass until you're ruined, and you see no
buildings worth looking at." This started ani-
mated discussion as to the merits of California com-
86 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
pared with the merits of Eastern farming country,
the young school ma'am vibrating between the httle
kitchen and the dining room and taking her part
in the conversation. She was from Indiana, and told
me that while she liked California she did not ap-
prove of California's neglect of history in the pub-
lic schools. She felt that the children were given
no knowledge of ancient or of modern history in
the teaching scheme. She assured me that her own
pupils were taught history very faithfully.
We were sorry to leave the ranch with its low
houses and its pretty lake in the foreground. We
drove on down the Pass, coming over rather precip-
itous roads to a last steep slope from whose height
we looked off to an immense level valley which
seemed to stretch away forever. Violet morning
lights hung over it and it looked like an enchanted
country. This was our first view of the San Joa-
quin Valley, through which we were to drive for
many miles.
As we began to cross the valley, coming first
through rather dull, scrubby stretches, I saw acres
of a delicate pink and white bell-shaped flower,
somewhat like a morning glory, growing close to
the ground, blooming luxuriantly in the midst of a
1., 2. and 3. Cowboy Games at Bakersfield.
THE NEW YORK ,5
IPUBLIGUBP'--
^STOR. LENOX
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 87
whorl of green leaves. I later asked a country woman
the name of the flower, but she could only tell
me that they called the lovely delicate things sand
flowers. As we approached Bakersfield the land
grew richer and the grass was thicker and greener.
Meadow larks were flying about in great numbers,
singing their sweet, clear song. At Bakersfield we
stopped at the New Southern Hotel, which is, like
most Western hotels, European in plan. We found
a delightful cafeteria known as the Clock Tower
Cafeteria, kept by two women, and with most ap-
petizing home cooking. Bakersfield is one of the
most Western of California towns. Something in
the swing of its citizens as they walk along, some-
thing in the wide sombreros and high boots which
the visiting cowboys wear imparts a general breezi-
ness and Western atmosphere. It is a little town
with the clothes of a big town. It has very wide
streets and is laid out on a generous scale. Its fine
Courthouse, its beautiful new schoolhouse, its
pretty homes, its residence streets with their rows
of blooming oleanders, pink and white, make it an
attractive town. But it must be confessed that it is
very hot in Bakersfield, as it is in most towns of the
San Joaquin and Sacramento Valleys. The most
88 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
interesting thing to me in Baker sfield was a leather
shop, where I saw handsome Mexican saddles, very
intricately and ornately stamped. These are made
to order and have any amount of beautiful work
upon them. At the same shop I saw handsome
stamped belts and leather coin cases, long leather
cuffs which cowboys affect, and tall riding boots
with ornate stitching. When we left Bakersfield
we saw just outside the town a perfect forest of oil
derricks towering into the air, some of the wells be-
ing new ones, others having been abandoned. Ba-
kersfield is the center of a rich oil territory, from
which much wealth has flowed.
In leaving the town we turned by mistake to the
right instead of to the left, and found ourselves trav-
eling toward a Grand Canyon on a minature scale.
We were driving over lonely country where the wa-
ter had worn the hills into fantastic shapes and
where the whole country was a series of terraces.
Sometimes small tablelands stood up boldly be-
fore us, sometimes cone-shaped pieces of plateau,
like small volcanoes, appeared in long rows beyond
us. Beautiful purple mists and shadows hung over
these carvings of nature as the sun began to decline.
The country grew lonelier and wilder, and we de-
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 89
cided that we must retrace our journey and find
out where we were. As we came near to Bakers-
field again we saw the camp of an engineer who was
making some borings for oil. He told us that we
had taken the wrong turn and directed us on our
way, past the tall derricks and northeast to Tu-
lare.
So we turned our backs on the browns, yellows,
and slate colors, the pinks and the lavenders of the
lonely tableland country and struck north along a
very fair road. We drove for twenty miles through
rather level, brown, desert country, coming then
into a grain country. All along there were pump
houses on the ranches, connected with the electric
current by heavy wires which ran from the main
lines along the road to the little houses in the fields.
I liked to think that the magic current streamed
down those side wires from the main river of elec-
tricity, worked the pumps and brought up the wa-
ter that made the whole country the fertile, grain-
growing region it evidently was. We ate supper
at the McFarland Hotel some twenty-five miles
from Bakersfield. Our Wisconsin hostess who
talked with us while her Japanese cook prepared
our supper told us that three years ago there were
90 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
only a few people living in tents in this region.
Now the wells are down and there is a prosperous
little town, the water being found only thirty feet
below the surface. We came on through more fields
of ripe wheat and green alfalfa. We saw one set-
tler's tent pitched in the midst of a beautiful al-
mond orchard, with great stacks of alfalfa near by.
His wellhouse was near, and some day in the golden
future he will undoubtedly build his dwelling.
Eleven miles from Tulare a tall country boy
came out from the shadows as we passed through a
little village and asked if he might ride to Tulare
with us. We tucked away his bulky newspaper
bundle in the machine and gave him permission to
sit on the tool box, which was fastened on the run-
ning-board. He thanked us warmly when we
reached the quiet streets of Tulare and offered to
pay us, but of course we assured him that we were
glad to have given him a lift. We did not often do
this as we were always afraid some one would be
hurt in riding on the running-board. We had a
comfortable room at the Hotel St. Maxon, and
drove on the next day through the fertile val-
ley to Fresno. Now we were in the region of rich
vineyards and luxuriant fig trees. For the first
1. Old Grizzly, Mariposa Big Trees. 2. Old Sunset, Mariposa
Big Trees.
THE NE-
[PUBLIC LJ
A8TOR. L
tilden FOUi.
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 91
time, as we approached Fresno, I saw whole or-
chards of fig trees. Fresno is a pretty town with
the wide, bright streets and look of prosperity of
so many California towns. It is the home of sev-
eral thousand Armenian and Greek workers. Only
that morning the Young Women's Christian Asso-
ciation had welcomed to Fresno a little woman who
had come all the way from Constantinople to meet
her husband. The town pays the price for being the
seat of the raisin industry by being very hot in
summer.
From Fresno we drove across somewhat uninter-
esting country, rolling and solitary, diversified only
by grain fields and stacks of alfalfa, to Madera.
At Madera we turned our faces toward the high
Sierras, going on to Raymond with a view to driv-
ing over the mountain road to Wawona, one of the
gates of the Yosemite and very near to the famous
Mariposa Grove of Big Trees.
92 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
CHAPTER VI
When we reached Raymond we had left the val-
leys behind us and were in the rough country pre-
ceding the long climb up through the high Sierras
to Wawona. It was late afternoon, and as we
drove along we enjoyed the wooded hills and the
far views over deep gulleys to the mountains be-
yond, in the afternoon sunshine. We met but few
people on the steep, rocky mountain road. At one
point we passed a roadside group of campers for
the night. They had unharnessed their weary
horses, had built a fire, and were preparing their
supper. The water-trough used by travelers was
close by, and they had pure spring water for their
needs. There were two families, with a host of
children, going up into the pine woods to one of the
sawmills where the men were to work. The young
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 93
mother of one family had with her a httle three-
weeks-old baby, fat and rosy-looking as his proud
father held him before the fire. The poor mother
was very weary and disheartened. "I am not used
to this," she said, as she folded up some bits of
clothing that she had been washing for the chil-
dren. The wagons looked as if furniture and
clothing had been piled in "higgledy pigglety."
The children and their parents slept as best they
could on top of this lumpy mass. One little girl
of twelve or so had a tear-stained face and a look
of real suffering in her blue eyes. She had hurt her
ankle in running up and down the mountain roads
with the other children. I felt sorry for the poor
child, as it was evident that her sprained ankle
would have little care in this itinerant household.
We were glad that the tired company had the mild
evening air in which to lie down and rest.
As we went on, the scenery grew wilder and the
road grew rougher. Something ailed our machine,
too. It transpired that we had a bad spark plug
and there was nothing for it but to return to Ray-
mond and have things put right in the little gar-
age there. We did so and then we made the foolish
mistake of deciding to go on, although the shadows
&4 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
were deepening, toward Wawona. So once more
we climbed the narrow, rutted mountain road. It
was astonishing how fast the twihght fell. We had
thought that we still had a good hour before dark-
ness came on, but it grew dark alarmingly fast,
and we were soon driving along in forest blackness
over the uneven road. We kept the horn going for
fear of meeting something around the sharp cor-
ners which were so numerous, but the road was ut-
terly lonely. Tall pines stood close to the road-
side, the lamps of the motor throwing a light here
and there upon their massive trunks. Clusters of
manzanita branches brushed against our machine,
the light flashing upon them, showing their lovely
green leaves arranged like shining rosettes around
their wine-colored stems. Everything was wet
with recent rain and wonderfully beautiful as the
light of the lamps flashed here and there. At last
we passed a little cottage by the roadside. There
was a dim light in the house. The door opened and
the figure of a man appeared dark against the
background of the lighted room. We called out
to him and asked how much farther Miami Lodge
was. "Just a few miles," he said, and very kindly
offered to telephone to the Lodge that we were com-
>>»^
l^
/j I
^8T0R
,^ENOX
til
ix>^
POVJN^
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 95
ing, so they would have some supper for us. It
seemed a long distance to us as we crept cautiously
around the shoulder of the mountain, down steep
pitches and up long slopes. But at last we saw
the welcome lights of the Lodge. How pleasant
it was to see an open fire in the sitting room, to eat
a hot supper in the delightful dining room, and to
find a dainty sleeping room furnished with a wo-
man's taste. Miami Lodge is a half-way house
between Raymond and Wawona. It is an ideal
resting spot for people who love the pine woods
and the quiet and solitude of the forest.
In the morning we were on our way to the Big
Trees. We decided to leave our car at a humble
but very pleasant little forest inn called Fish Camp
Hotel, presided over by some Maine people who
long ago left the pines of Maine for the pines of
California. They have a mountain ranch which
they leave in the summer to come up into the higher
forests and to keep a little hostel and grocery store.
It is a long walk from Fish Camp Hotel to the
boundary fence of the National Park where the
famous Big Trees are. If one prefers to drive
one's car over a somewhat rocky but perfectly pas-
sable mountain road and to leave it just outside
06 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
the fence, one can do so. In this way, one's walk-
ing powers are kept fresh for the memorable expe-
dition among the Big Trees. One needs a long
day in which to see the Trees. We felt sorry for
the tourists who were being driven about and
who had only an allotted time in which to see the
Trees. We had our luncheon with us and were in-
dependent. We walked miles along the Park
drives. We stood under the Trees, of which there
are some five hundred, gazing up at their distant
tops. We amused ourselves by measuring their
enormous girths with our arms. Most of the time
we simply gazed at them from one vantage point
and another, lost in wonder at their height, so nmch
greater than we had dreamed, and at their bulk, so
enormous as to be difficult to take in. The Big
Trees were far bigger, far grander, far more beau-
tiful in their coloring than we had been prepared
for. When the afternoon sunlight struck their
trunks and they glowed with the wonderful soft,
deep red which is their color, we were enchanted.
We felt awed, too, not only by their great size, but
by their great age. We were in the presence of
hoary old men, a detached little company of An-
cients who were living long, long before our gen-
c to
es o
N
."2
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 97
eration ever came upon the scene, and who had
passed through much of the world's history. It
was with a glowing sense of satisfaction and happi-
ness and wonder that we came away from our leis-
urely day among the Trees. Some day we hope to
go back and to repeat that experience.
We met later a gentleman who said that he had
spent such a day, had had a supper with the forest
keeper who sells photographs and souvenirs in his
little cottage, and then had lain down to sleep on
the pine needles under the great Trees themselves.
"I saw the stars pinnacled in their branches,"
said he.
We had a comfortable night at Fish Camp Ho-
tel, our fellow guests at the next table being a party
of Scotch stone-cutters who had come up for a hol-
iday from the granite quarry at Raymond w^iere
they were quarrying and shaping stones for some
Sacramento public buildings. Bagpipes came out
in the evening and the air was full of Scotch music
and Scotch jokes. The next morning we drove on
to Wawona, passing over the height of the grade
and descending a little to come into the lovely Wa-
wona meadows, in whose midst stands the old white
wooden hotel which has dispensed delightful hospi-
98 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
tality under the same landlords for forty years
past. Mr. Washburn is the only one left of the
brothers who built up the Wawona Hotel, and his
son now bears the burden of the hotel administra-
tion.
People are always coming and going at Wa-
wona. They are either on their way to the Yosem-
ite; or having seen the Yosemite they are on their
way out with a look at the Big Trees, eight miles
away, as they pass by. We left our machine at the
Wawona garage and took the 12 o'clock stage
drawn by four splendid horses, to drive through the
meadow and along the mountain for thirty miles to
the Yosemite Valley. Later, the Wawona road
was to be opened to motor travel. But the leis-
urely way of approach by the stage was very agree-
able. The drive ran through the forest. We saw
a pheasant in the bracken by the roadside with her
brood of little ones. She walked with her head high,
affecting a careless dignity to hide her anxiety,
while her babies crouched close to the ground and
looked like little brown dots as they skimmed along.
In the late afternoon, we saw a coyote out for his
supper. Our stage driver cracked his whip at him
and shouted his contempt. We saw the beautiful
i
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 99
deer cross and recross the road, coming down to
their drinking places. They are protected by the
State and come and go with only the mountain lion
to frighten them. And at last after twenty miles
of drive through tall pines we came to the famous
Inspiration Point where the first view of the Val-
ley burst upon us. We had been driving over a
high plateau, and now we were to descend more than
a thousand feet into the deep cut which forms the
Yosemite. Our stage driver evidently took a gen-
uine pleasure, the pleasure of the showman, in rein-
ing up his horses at the psychological moment and
allowing us to drink in the view that burst dramat-
ically upon us. There was the green level floor of
the Valley far below us ; there was El Capitan ris-
ing in massive grandeur, a sheer wall of rock, in
evening greys and lavenders, above the Valley;
there was the Bridal Veil — a silver thread of water
falling six hundred feet. And beyond were the
Valley walls rising in the distance. In my opinion
everyone who wishes to have the most striking en-
trance to the Yosemite should come in by the Wa-
wona road, and have the great view at Inspiration
Point fire the imagination first. A little lower
down, we came again on the winding road to the
100 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
same view, only from a lower vantage point and
therefore more intimate. This point is known as
Artists' Point; and after this we were hurrying
down the mountain slope, the eager horses well
aware that they were approaching food and rest.
Soon we were on the Valley floor, walls rising to
the left and right of us, and ahead of us. Behind
us was the way out of the Valley and above us was
the mountain road by which we had just come
down. Tourists were dropped at various camps,
and we drove on to Camp Curry, the last stopping
point of the stage. The Yosemite Valley is some-
what like a blind alley. It has but one entrance on
the level of the Valley floor. As you drive to the
farther end of the Valley, you become aware that
you are approaching nearer and nearer to moun-
tain walls, and ere long you are literally against a
barrier, all the way from a thousand to three or
four thousand feet in height. Anyone who would
leave the Yosemite by other than the entrance on
the Valley level at its one end must climb. Camp
Curry has the great advantage of being located in
the closed end of the valley and thus very near to
many of the mountain trails. Its proprietor and
landlord has built up Camp Curry to be the big,
1. Driving Home tlie Cows. 2. Meeting in the Great American Desert.
3. Bridal Veil from Artist's Point, Yosemite Valley.
THE NEW YOKK
PUBLIC LIBRARY
ASTOR. LENOX
TILDEN FOUNDATIONS
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 101
cosmopolitan, happy, democratic settlement that it
now is. The food in the dining pavilion is plain but
well cooked, and abundantly served in family fash-
ion. The little tents with their two single beds are
very comfortable. The camp fire at night, around
which almost the entire camp assembles in that in-
timacy and yet detachment, which belongs to those
who dream before a camp fire, is the heart of the
camp life, where Mr. Curry gives nightly a family
talk on trees, rocks, flowers, and trails. Hot water
is a plentiful luxury at Camp Curry, and the host
often says, "Camp Curry is on the water wagon, but
it is a hot water wagon."
"A year ago," says Mr. Curry, "we put up 10,000
lunches — that meant 20,000 wooden plates, and
some 50,000 pieces of white tissue paper. You can
see how necessary it is to burn or bury your lunch-
eon papers when you have eaten your lunch on the
trails, or in the forests."
Never in any other place in the United States
have I heard so much talk of tramps and trails as
at Camp Curry in the Yosemite Valley. Most
Americans seem to be too indolent or too unused
to walking to have the enthusiasm of the trampers
and the mountain climbers whom one meets in Eu-
102 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
rope. But I felt that I was back in the atmosphere
of the Tyrol and of Switzerland when I reached
Camp Curry and saw the people starting off in the
morning for long days of walking and climbing.
"I arrived at Camp Curry late in the afternoon just
as the people were coming from their day's walks,"
said a young lady to me. "I thought I had never
seen such disreputable looking people. Their boots
were muddy, their hair was dishevelled, their faces
were flushed and sunburnt. But in a day or two I
was coming in from long walks in just the same
condition myself." But who that can walk and
chmb would forego the thrilling pleasure of the
long climb to Glacier Point, and the long climb past
Nevada and Vernal Falls, and down again into the
Valley? Who would miss the long climb up to the
Yosemite Falls, where one from a perilous and yet
protected vantage point just above the Falls sees
that great volume of water launch itself for the
awful plunge into the air, and so down into the
Valley? Fortunately, there are sturdy mules and
horses, sure-footed and plodding, for those who
prefer riding to climbing. No one need miss the
truly grand experience of the view from Glacier
Point, where by staying over night at the hotel one
uov-
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 103
may have both sunset and sunrise. What a world
of mountains one looks out upon! There is Half
Dome, looking as if a gigantic hand had thrust it
up through the earth and into the air, leaving its
other half far, far below. There stretches before
one a vast, upper country of irregular table lands
and peaks, many still white with snow. One is
really looking far out over the remote regions of
the snowy, pine-covered, high Sierras.
We took a day for a long excursion to
Cloud's Rest. This meant twenty-two miles of
mule riding, but it also meant an even more com-
prehensive and exalted view from the mountain's
top, of frozen lakes below, deep canyons, lofty
mountain peaks where storms were raging far away,
and solitary table lands. Only people of endur-
ance can take such a jaunt, as one's joints grow
very weary and aching from the slow riding hour
after hour. When we were at Camp Curry, a party
of some forty Germans, men and women, were
there for the pleasure of "doing" the entire Valley.
No climb was too hard for them. They were known
as the "German climbing bunch." Every morning
one might see them with their paper bags of lunch-
eon and their climbing-sticks, walking gaily along
104, ACROSS THE CONTINENT
to the beginning of some one of the mountains
trails. They entertained us at the evening camp
fire with their German songs, and were altogether
an energetic and genial company.
The open air life and the grandeur of the trails
were very hard to leave, but we came away one noon
and once more drove back to Wawona. There we
were detained for a week by a break in the car. We
started out one morning when the rain was pouring
to take the Mariposa road. We found that with
no chains and with the machine slipping and slid-
ing on the steep clay road, progress would be im-
possible. I tried to help the matter by putting
freshly cut branches of odorous balsam fir under
the wheels to help them grip. I walked behind the
machine with a log, throwing it under the wheels
as they advanced foot by foot, T. fighting at the
steering wheel like the pilot of a drifting ship.
But it was impossible to make headway. We met
some teamsters who had evidently been taking
something hot to counteract the discomfort of their
wet exteriors. One said solemnly of the sun when
we expressed a wish that it would appear, "Yes,
the sun is our father, and our step-father." Then
he added, "I'd worship the sun if I were a heathen.
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 105
I kinder do, now." He went on irrelevantly, "I do
think Roosevelt's one of the best men we've got.
I do think so. I do so." We were close to a de-
serted logging camp, which looked doubly melan-
choly in the falling rain. There was the deserted
runway, there were the empty cottages, with broken
windows and doors swinging open. Back of the
cottages were piles of tin cans. One cottage still
bore its old name, "Idle Burg." All about were
blooming columbines and the odorous balsam.
There was nothing for it but to go back to Wa-
wona, which we did. When we reached there, we
found that we had a broken spring. We spent
several days waiting for a new spring to come up
from Raymond. In the meantime we discovered
the loveliness of the Wawona meadows and ex-
plored the walks about the hotel. We went down
to the blacksmith shop to see the big stage horses
shod and the smith handle them as if they were his
children. "California is God's country," said he.
"I came here forty years ago, but I aint done much
for myself until the last two or three years." At
last the motor car was ready, and we had once more
a drive through the forest, stopping for a delightful
dinner and evening at ]\Iiami Lodge. The next
106 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
day we were dropping down from the high Sierras
by the JNIariposa road. Turning to the right, be-
fore reaching Raymond, the foothills of the Sierras
made very rough, broken country for travel, and
our road was indifferent. We passed poor little
ranches dropped in among the rocks and gulleys.
We saw lonely looking women sitting on the
porches of unpainted wooden ranch houses, and
finally we came to Mariposa, which reminded me
of Bret Harte more than any other place I had seen
in California.
Mariposa is a mining town from which the miners
have departed. In mining days it was a busy cen-
ter, with miners eating and drinking, and walking
up and down its little street. But some of the mines
have been closed, the miners have gone to other dis-
tricts, and the town is left high and dry. A few
men were hanging idly about in front of the dreary
looking little stores. The two places that seemed
to be alive were a general department store kept by
an Italian, and a little restaurant kept by a China-
man. We bought our gasoline from Mr. Trabucco
and went in to have some tea at John Chinaman's
place. He was a shrewd looking, middle-aged Chi-
naman in a very pessimistic mood. "You see dis
1 . . .2^KKKLiL
..flRHBHI
^'._ i
^iilH^^^^^^B M
!1M
- —
?\Jb.
ASTOR
TILDE N FO
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 107
town? You see more'n I do," he said sadly. We
assured him that we saw very little town. Indeed,
Mariposa is just the sad little shell of a town from
which most of the life has moved away, leaving the
dingy little wooden buildings along the dusty
street. Our Chinaman charged us fifteen cents
apiece for a single cup ot tea, flanked by some very
stale store cookies, which he took from the show
window. He evidently felt that he should make hay
while the sun was shining. From Mariposa, we had
a long afternoon drive over lonely, rolling coun-
try to Snelling. When we reached its one little
hotel, we found that w^e were too late for supper.
California has an eight hour law, and domestic ser-
vants cannot be kept over time. In large hotels
they have different shifts; but in country places
the landlord must let his cook go at the ap-
pointed time. However, our host was disposed to
be accommodating. "The missus and I are always
here," he said, and went over to buy a bit of steak
for our supper. We were very tired after the ex-
tremely rough driving in the foothills, and slept
heavily.
Snelling lies in a valley where there is evidently
plenty of warmth and water. The fig trees are
108 ACROSS THE CONTINENT ;
wonderfully luxuriant. We passed some beautiful ]
grain ranches the next morning and so came to j
Stockton, where at the Hotel Stockton we saw the ;
red, white, and blue sign that was to guide us across i
the continent. We were at last on the Lincoln '
Highway, the old road with the new name which \
runs from ocean to ocean and which is destined to
be one of the famous highways of the world. :
The Stockton Inn is a beautiful modern hostel, i
European in plan, with every convenience, not to ]
say luxury. One should go up on its roof garden ]
for an afternoon cup of tea just for the pleasure of \
looking down on the San Joaquin River, whose i
headwaters run up into the town. Boats lie all i
along the piers, and it looks very like a bit of |
Holland. I could have easily believed that I was I
looking down on an Amsterdam canal from ;
the roof garden of the Stockton Hotel. All \
through California, but more particularly between i
Monterey and Los Angeles and along the coast, I
we had seen workmen tramping from place to place, ;
sometimes alone, usually in bands of six or seven. ]
They carried their blankets rolled on their backs, \
and many of them were clear-eyed, respectable >.
looking men. We saw one such man in Stockton j
TttE ^-^'^^R
^U^
bUBUC
. V-E'
^^-
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 109
on his way to take the river boat. He had his
blanket on his back, and he wore a somewhat bat-
tered straw hat. His trousers were ragged, and
he looked as if he had tramped many a weary mile.
He was tall and bony, with a sandy beard.^ I took
him to be a Scot. I was so anxious to help the poor
fellow out that I urged T. to speak to him and offer
him a suit of clothes. To our surprise the man re-
fused them in a very free and easy, gf nial way. "O,
nay, thank you," he said, "I'm doin' all right."
Stockton is a city with wide streets, an open
plaza, and a Courthouse surrounded by a bor-
der of green lawn and palm trees. I saw a tur-
baned Hindoo lying asleep under a palm tree in
the afternoon sun on the Courthouse lawn. White
men lay asleep near him. It was at Stockton that
we saw our first rodeo or round-up. The rodeo is
a part professional and part amateur Wild- West
show. The cowboys wear their gayest shirts, of
red and pink and variegated silks. They wear their
handsomest "chaps" or riding trousers, cut very
wide, and made of buckskin or of sheepskin with
the wool side out. They have on their widest-
brimmed, highest crowned sombreros and their
most ornately stitched boots. The cowgirls are
110 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
in brown or grey velveteen, or perhaps in khaki.
They, too, wear broad-brimmed hats and riding
boots with spurs. Some of them wear red silk hand-
kerchiefs knotted about their necks. We saw such
an exhibition of cattle lassoing and of roping and
throwing steers, of rope spinning and of trick rid-
ing as we had never before seen. Doubtless it is an
old story for Californians, but it was all new and
interesting to us. The most interesting feat was
the roping and throwing of a steer. Two men ride
down the steer, and as one of them approaches the
beast he slips off his horse and catches the steer
with a lightning stroke around his neck. He en-
deavors by casting his weight on the beast's neck
and by dexterously twisting it to throw the animal.
Usually he succeeds; but sometimes a stubborn
beast refuses to be taken by surprise, plants his
feet firmly, and lowers his dangerous horns. Then
follows a locked struggle, and it is a serious matter
for the cattleman if his hold slips.
THE NE\'^
PUBLIC LI
ASTOR. LFNOX
TILDEN FOUNDA'^IONS
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 111
CHAPTER VII
When we left Stockton we felt that the great
adventure had really begun. We were now to tra-
verse the Lincoln Highway and were to be guided
by the red, white, and blue marks; sometimes
painted on telephone poles, sometimes put up by
way of advertisement over garage doors or swing-
ing on hotel signboards; sometimes painted on lit-
tle stakes, like croquet goals, scattered along over
the great spaces of the desert. We learned to love
the red, white, and blue, and the familiar big L
which told us that we were on the right road. Had
we taken the Lincoln Highway literally from ocean
to ocean, we should have driven direct from San
Francisco to Stockton. As it was we saw Cali-
fornia first, and came in at Stockton.
It was a bright, sunny day, the thirteenth of
112 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
June, when we left Stockton for Sacramento. We
drove along an excellent asphalt road, through
grain fields and orchards, the almond orchards
being loaded with their green, velvety fruit. It
was late afternoon when we reached our hostel, the
Sacramento Hotel. Sacramento is even to-day
more or less a frontier town. Judging by appear-
ances, there are more saloons in proportion to the
other shops of Sacramento than in any other town
in California, unless it be San Francisco. The town
is well shaded. One sees many wooden buildings of
old-fashioned architecture, the old mansard roof be-
ing much in evidence. A most pleasant spot in Sac-
ramento is the beautifully kept park around the fine
State House. Its walks are shaded by a fine row
of palms, another of magnolias which were in full
bloom, and yet another of beautiful old cedars. I
liked the "Sacramento Bee" building which has two
interesting bas reliefs of printers of the Middle
Ages working a hand press. Sacramento is very
hot in summer, its stone pavements and asphalt
streets radiating heat like an open oven.
Leaving Sacramento, we drove across rolling
plains, mostly grain fields, to Folsom. From Fol-
som to the busy little town of Placerville we had
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 113
more broken country and a decidedly bumpy road.
We found the drive from Folsom to Placerville
uninteresting, the forest being scrubby, the road
dry and dusty. As soon as we left Placerville we
came into beautiful country. We had stretches of
distant mountain views and magnificent wooded
hills all about us. A mountain stream, the Ameri-
can River, green and foaming, roared alongside
the road. The road was in excellent condition and
ran on through the forest for miles, flanked by
sugar pines, cedars, firs, balsams, and yellow pines.
Squirrels darted back and forth in front of us. The
wild white lilac was blooming at the roadside.
Ascending hour by hour, we passed several pleas-
ant-looking mountain inns and came at last to
Phillips', a simple place where they gave us, out-
side the main house, a tiny cottage all to ourselves.
It had one room and from its door we looked
straight away into the forest. They gave us some
beefsteak, some fried potatoes, some canned corn,
carrots, cake, custard, and tea for our supper.
We left our door open at night, that the fresh
mountain air might come in freely. I awoke early
in the morning and saw the first lights on the hills.
Away off in the forest I heard a hermit thrush call-
114 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
ing. After breakfast we drove along through pine i
forest, the snow on the hills not very far away, and j
soon came to the summit of the Pass, 7395 feet. A ]
party in a Reo car had been over the Pass three
weeks earlier, toiling through the snow, and had
posted several signs, painted in flamboyant red:
"First car up May 25, 1914." Below us was the
marshy valley surrounding the southern end of
Lake Tahoe. We saw the exquisite green of these
watery meadows and the lovely clumps of pines
growing here and there in the valley. Beyond i
stretched the great lake surrounded by lofty moun-
tains— a glorious view. We drove carefully down I
the steep hill on to the plain and past Meyers. The j
road was very sandy, and as we drove among the \
pine trees it was in some places so narrow that the
hubs of our machine just cleared the tree trunks, i
We went first to Tallac, where there is a very pleas- j
ant hotel on the lake. But it was full and we turned 1
back to Al Tahoe, a hotel in a great open space at j
the southern end of the lake, with pine trees scat- j
tered here and there, and a little colony of cottages i
outside the main building. We established our- 1
selves in one of these cottages, a one-room house i
with three wooden sides and a long curtain across its
THE NEW YORK
PUBLIC LIBRARY
ASTOR. LENOX
TILDEN FOUNDATIONS
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 115
open side. The fourth side of the building had been
hterally hfted up and was supported by wooden
props. In this way it became a roof for the little
platform of boards which stretched in front of the
cottage, and a sheltered porch was thus improvised.
At night we drew our calico curtain across the open
front of our cottage, and so slept practically in the
open air.
From Al Tahoe one can make many excursions
on foot or by boat. As there was still snow on the
road we did not undertake the motor drive from Al
Tahoe to Tahoe Tavern and Donner Lake. We
did drive the nine or ten miles of mountain road to
Fallen Leaf Lake, which is a most exquisite moun-
tain lake right under the shadow of Mt. Tallac.
The trails from the hotel at Fallen Leaf Lake are
very numerous and attract many enthusiastic moun-
tain climbers. The first rain that we had exper-
ienced in all our long journey we had at Al Tahoe.
When we left our hotel early in the morning to
drive to Carson City the rain was still falling, but
it cleared within an hour after our start, and we had
no more rain until we reached Ohio. Lake Tahoe
on our left was wonderfully beautiful in the morn-
ing light. The rich manzanita and other bushes
116 ACROSS THE CONTINENT i
were shining with moisture, the tall pines were re- i
fleeted in the clear depths of the lake, the shores ;
were wild and lonely. The road rose high above i
the lake, and in one or two places ran along the |
edge of a precipitous cliff. After leaving the lake i
we came into a rather desolate mountain region |
where the whole character of the country changed, j
The road was a narrow shelf along a barren, rocky \
mountain side. There were but few trees. The
color of the rock and of patches of brilliant yellow
flowers, growing along the roadside, gave variety J
to the landscape. Otherwise it was somewhat
dreary and forbidding after the rich forest foliage !
that we had just left along the lake. '
As we rounded mountain shoulder after shoulder i
we began to look off into green cultivated farming i
valleys. Next we were coming down a steep hill .
and into Nevada's little capital town of Carson |
City. The Capitol building stands at the foot of j
this long hill road, and as one approaches from the
top of the hill it looks as if one must drive straight
through the Capitol. But the road turns sharply ^
to the left as one reaches the Capitol street. This |
one long street with its hotel, its pleasant shops, and i
I
U-
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 117
its Capitol is about all there is of the town. We
drove through the town straight on to Reno.
Reno is a pleasant town, nobly situated on a high
plateau with lofty mountains towering near. The
Truckee River flows straight down from the heart
of the snows through the center of the town and is
spanned by a handsome bridge. The substantial
Riverside Hotel stands on the bank of the river
near the bridge. Somehow my impressions of Reno
all seem to cluster around the swift river and the
bridge. The library, the hotel, the Y. M. C. A.,
and other public buildings are close to the river.
If you walk up the river you come to a little island
in the center of the rushing stream which is a tiny
Coney Island for the Reno residents during the
summer. Bridges are flung from bank to island
on both sides of the river. High above the river
rise the houses of the well-to-do people of the town,
some of them handsome structures. At the little
hairdresser's where I had a shampoo in the delicious
soft snow water of the river they pointed out to
me the home of "our millionaire." So I crossed the
river and went over and up to the higher side of
the town, where was a very beautiful stucco man-
118 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
sion surrounded by wide lawns, with a view over
the river on one side and off to the mountains on
the other. It was a charming situation, and its
charm was enhanced for me by the fact that just a
short distance away, outside the town, began the
grey-green desert with its sage brush whose pun-
gent, aromatic odor was to be in my nostrils for so
many days to come. I asked my hairdresser whether
Reno had many people in residence waiting for
their divorces. She said that the new law, by virtue
of which they must have a year's residence in Ne-
vada, instead of the old period of six months, had
cut down, so to speak, the business of divorces. She
assured me that the Reno people deplored this as
formerly the town was full of boarders and lodgers
"doing time." I confess I was somewhat shocked
by such a sordid point of view. I found myself
looking quietly around the Riverside dining room
to see whether I could pick out in the well filled
room any candidates for divorce, and then I re-
flected that they were probably looking at me with
the same query in their minds.
At Reno we followed our rule of visiting uni-
versity buildings. We had seen the famous State
University and the equally famous Stanford Uni-
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 119
versity in California, and wished to continue our
study of college buildings and of the general atmos-
phere of Western institutions. Unfortunately it
was holiday time, but we were shown about most
courteously by a young instructor. The Nevada
State University buildings are modest and compar-
atively few in number, but in good taste. They
have a fine situation on a high plateau, wind-swept
and mountain-surrounded, at the edge of the town.
Westerners call these lofty terraces, which drop
down one below another in step fashion at the foot
of the great mountains, benches.
We had seen the very noble School of Mines at
the University of California, erected by Mrs.
Hearst to her husband's memory. We were equally
interested in the smaller but very pretty building
erected by Mr. Clarence Mackay for the Univer-
sity of Nevada School of Mines. A striking statue
of Mr. Mackay in his miner's dress and with his
miner's pick, stands in front of the building and
looks down the green lengths of the open campus.
Our guide told us that the attendance at the
School of Mines varies annually with the fluctua-
tions of mining fortunes. In good years when the
mines are doing well, the University has between
120 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
fifty and sixty students of mining engineering.
In poor mining years the attendance drops off.
He told us some interesting tales of the "good old
days" when miners wore two shirts sewed together
at the bottom, thus making a sort of bag, and helped
themselves liberally to gold while in the diggings.
He said that a miner had been known to pay a
mine foreman a thousand dollars for the privilege
of working in a rich corner of the mine, with the
result that he would be able to make up the price
of his privilege within two or three days. He ex-
plained that there was a general rule to the effect
that a miner should not be stripped for examination
except to his shirt; with possible exceptions if he
were under very strong suspicion.
I was sorry to come away from Reno. I liked
the little town, with the sound of the rushing river
coming in at my hotel window, and the feeling of
space and freedom that the high situation gave.
Reno is 4500 feet above sea level.
From Reno we drove on to Fallon, a little town
where we spent the night. I took my last look at
the high Sierras as we drove across the grassy plains
in leaving Reno. There they were, still snowy, tow-
ering above the town. We came along by the river,
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 121
but left it later for a more or less hilly road across
rather barren country. We stopped at a little
roadside place where there was a small grocery next
to a tiny dwelling, to ask for some luncheon. The
groceryman was very dubious and non-committal
and referred us to his wife. I had noticed that at
our approach she fled to some improvised chicken
coops back of the little dwelling. So I tracked
her to her lair and found the poor little thing really
standing at bay. She was a small woman, over-
shadowed by an immense Mexican straw hat. She
said to me somewhat defiantly and almost tearfully
that she couldn't possibly do another drop of work.
She explained that she had the railroad men to care
for when they came in from the road, and that she
had two hundred chickens to look after. "I carry
all the water for them myself," she said tearfully.
I looked around at the hot, dusty little settlement,
with no spear of grass, and felt sorry for her. I
told her that we wouldn't for the world inconven-
ience her, whereat she softened and told me that if
we would drive on to the next settlement we could
get some luncheon. Which we did, and a very
indifferent luncheon it was. However, it was
spiced by an ardent conversation between T. and
122 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
a railroad man on the foreign policy of the present
Administration. A woman looks on at these en-
counters, into which men plunge without a mo-
ment's introduction or hesitation, and into which
they throw themselves so earnestly, with admiration
tinged with awe.
As we drove along the dusty road a short, rather
thick snake, its back marked by shining black dia-
monds, wriggled hurriedly across the road in front
of us, escaping to the sage brush. I asked later
what this snake was, for I felt certain that it was
poisonous. Sure enough, it was a diamond-backed
rattle snake. We came soon to another little town
where there was a good hotel. Hanging on the
wall of the hotel was a painting of the proposed
Lahontan Dam and the country which its life-giv-
ing streams would touch. We decided, instead of
going direct to Fallon, to drive across country to
the Dam, making a slight detour. We were very
glad that we did so, for we found the young super-
intendent of the Dam construction, a Brown Uni-
versity man, very courteous indeed. We went to
look at the enormous pile of sand and clay which
has been banked up day after day and week after
week until the Lahontan Dam is the largest earth
PUBLIC
"^^^^RYl
^-^S::
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 123
dam in the world. We saw cement spillways, one
on each side of the earth dam proper, their tall
steps planned to break the fall of the water
at any time of great flood and pressure. We
saw the lake itself with its measuring tower and
gate already sixty feet under the rising water. Mr.
Tillinghast told us that the lake stretches back into
the hills and the canyon for twenty miles. We
heard of the millions of fertile acres which this wa-
ter, already beginning to be released in a rushing
stream, was to make possible. Some miles back
we had seen irrigated country, green and fertile,
cut, so to speak, right out of the desert. Alfalfa
was growing luxuriantly and was being cured in
high green stacks under the sun. Settlers' little cot-
tages were a visible promise of the future, just as
they had been in California. We congratulated
Mr. Tillinghast on his work, and told him that in
days to come he should bring his grandchildren to
see the Lahontan Dam, a splendid monument to his
work and the work of the men with him.
We saw where he and his assistant engineer lived
with their families. They had small but comforta-
ble quarters made of houses built of tar paper.
Some chicken yards were near, and an improvised
124 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
tennis court was in front of the little row of houses.
Near by was a little schoolhouse for the children of
the settlement. Here New England women, city
born and bred, were living happily with their chil-
dren while their husbands built the great Dam.
One lady told us that her relatives in Providence
commiserated her lot. "But," said she, "the boys
are so well and live such a free and happy life in
this glorious air that we really dread being moved
to another piece of work when the Dam is finished."
From Lahontan we picked our way across the des-
ert with its sage brush and its spaces, to Fallon.
When we left Fallon we had before us a very try-
ing drive. The country east of Fallon, past Salt
Wells Ranch and as far as Sand Springs, was in
bad condition because of recent heavy rains. We
met heavy wagons drawn by ten, twelve, fourteen,
and sometimes sixteen horses and mules, strug-
gling madly and almost hopelessly through the
sticky mud. The drivers were cracking their whips,
yelling and swearing, and the poor animals' flanks
and bellies were thick with mud. The heavy wag-
ons were piled high with bales and boxes. In some
instances the horses of one team were being unhar-
nessed to be added to another team where the wagon
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 125
stuck hopelessly in the mud. A country woman
told me later that she had seen the horses of these
trucking teams come in at night, their flanks cov-
ered with the dried blood which had streamed down
from the wounds made by a pitchfork in the hands
of a desperate and angry teamster determined to
get his team started out of a mud hole.
We had an advantage because of the broad tires
of our machine, and got on very well by picking our
way across the plain and keeping well to the left
of a long stretch filled with salt water holes and
with a fairly large salt lake. A new road had been
made by travelers, far away from the regular road,
which ran close to this small inland sea and which
was a hopeless quagmire. The land about us was
dreary and desolate and yet had its own charm.
Off to the left were immense sand hills blown up
by the wind, and barren, rocky hills, the Wind
Mountains. We came at last to the little station
known as Sand Springs, which is simply a lodging
place for the teamsters and their horses for the
night. We could look down from the plateau on
which the little house and the barns stood, upon the
white and clay-colored, desolate spaces of the salty
valley below. The landlady welcomed us cordially
126 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
and gave us a plain but hearty lunch. She was a
Calif ornian and told me that she and her husband
missed the green hills and fields of their own State.
She said that they had wonderful salt for curing
and packing their winter meats from the lake down
in the valley. She said that the salt could be raked
up in great heaps, white and coarse but with great
strength and savor. She was mourning the loss of
her cows, which had disappeared. They had been
gone a month and she feared that in wandering
away on the mountain ranges they had been driven
off by "cattle rustlers."
From Sand Springs we drove on through a more
hilly country, the road winding along through an
open canyon. We passed Frenchman's Flat, where
there was a little restaurant and where a French-
man came out to pass the time of day. He greeted
us very pleasantly and would doubtless have given
us a good meal if we had not already had one. We
then crossed another great level and passed three
ranches known as West Gate, Little Gate, and East
Gate. We were coming into a much more fertile
country, a high valley with mountains rising on
either side. Ahead of us, marked by its tall cotton-
wood trees, was Alpine Ranch, a part of the big
THE Nr:
PUBLIC LIBK
I n.u<^N Fou
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 127
Williams estate and our destination for the night.
It was very cheering to drive through the paddock,
cross a bubbling little stream, and come up along-
side the long, low, pleasant ranch house.
We had had as traveling companion from Fallon,
across the Salt Flats and through the hills, a young
commercial man from San Francisco driving his
Ford car through to Utah., We were both glad
to make the journey across the desert in com-
pany, hoping to be of mutual assistance in case of
any accident to our cars. Mr. N. now proposed
to take supper at Alpine Ranch and to travel by
night in order to gain time. We warned him that
he might get into trouble, but he assured us that
he often traveled at night and enjoyed the stillness
and the freedom to speed along. We found Mr.
and Mrs. Dudley of the ranch hospitable and will-
ing to give us bed and board. It is very pleasant
for those who are willing to forego luxuries to stop
at farm houses and ranch houses, to take the fare
and sleep upon the beds given them, and to enjoy
the talk of the people and the contact with real
ranch life.
We had a delightful evening with the Dudleys.
We ate our supper at a long table filled with ranch-
128 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
men, and took part in an animated conversation on
the merits of the present Administration. We ate
from a red tablecloth, but that did not trouble us.
After supper, in the soft evening air, we had a talk
with the family as to the advantages of the govern-
ment ownership of railways. A woman from a
nearby town took an earnest share in the conversa-
tion and showed herself well acquainted with the
arguments for and against such ownership. The
master of the ranch told us something of his diffi-
culty in keeping men steadily at work on the ranch.
He said that they came and went constantly in
spite of good pay, steady work, and kindly treat-
ment. He said that it was very difficult to get a
man to stay more than two years. He would bring
his roll of bedding, as is Western custom, take his
place in the bunk house and at the table and in the
fields for a time, but he could not be persuaded to
stay long. The wandering habit had too strong a
grip upon him.
We went out into the ample paddock to see the
mules and horses roving comfortably about. Two
of the wild horses of the plains had recently been
captured and brought in. Both were going through
a course of discipline which the ranchman assured
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 129
us would have to be made more severe later on. One
was a beautiful young mare with her colt following
her closely. She had a heavy yoke bar hanging by
a sort of collar from her neck, and so arranged as
to clog and trip her if she attempted to run. She
was peacefully wandering about, but snorted with
fear as we came near her. Her master assured us
that she could easily be tamed, and that she was not
to be driven or saddled, but was to be used as a bell
mare. That is, she was to be the leader of the herd
let out on the plains. The ranchman explained
that a company of horses will not leave a mare with
a young colt, consequently she is used to keep them
from straying away long distances. The other
horse was a fine animal but much less docile of
spirit. "I feel sorry for him," said his master; "he
has got a lot to go through with, but he must learn;
there is no other way for him." The animal had
both his fore legs and hind legs "hand" cuffed, only
a short chain being used on the shackles. He was
in this way so hobbled that he had to move by little
leaps forward, first his fore feet, then his hind feet.
By this clumsy hopping he managed to get about.
"He must first learn to accept this and then we will
go on with his education," said his master. He
130 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
looked very wild and untamed of spirit, poor fel-
low, and made frantic efforts to rush away as we
came near him. But he had already found out that
his cruel chains were inexorable.
We walked out into the lovely valley and toward
the purple hills that rose above it. One can never
tire of the evenings and the mornings of the great
Western plains and table lands. Nowhere else have
I seen such wonderful sunsets; glorious in crim-
sons, purples, violets, rose lavenders, ashes of roses,
and finally soft greys. Nowhere have I seen love-
lier dawns, the air so crystal clear, the morning
light so full of rose and lavender mysteries, the
whole day so full of wide and happy promise.
Mr. N. had insisted on going on after supper at
the ranch. We had seen him disappear down the
valley, his machine finally hidden in acres of grey-
green sage brush.
The next morning we drove on, passing at the end
of the valley through a short but rough canyon,
with rocky walls to the left and right. There we
saw a board sign marking "Water 100 feet down."
Doubtless this was a boon to travelers in the old
days. Once through the canyon, we came out into
another wide valley, lonely and spacious. As we
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 131
drove along, we saw ahead of us what seemed to
be a small motor car by the roadside.
"I believe that's N's car!" said T. As we came up
to it we saw that the two left wheels were hopelessly
down in a deep rut. Mr. N. had stuck his card in
the windshield of the car, and had written on it,
"Gone for some boards; wait until I come back."
Soon we saw him coming across the desert with
some loose boards in his arms. We found that the
poor fellow had been there from ten o'clock the
night before until ten o'clock in the morning, the
hour of our passing. He had been bowling along
comfortably and somewhat sleepily the previous
night, when suddenly his car bumped into a muddy
rut from which he found it impossible to extricate
the machine. He told us that he had worked fran-
tically and futilely until about midnight. Then he
put out his lights, wrapped himself up as best he
could, and slept until seven. He said that utter
stillness and darkness were about him. "Not even
a jack rabbit passed." At seven he again began to
struggle with his car. He had the sure hope that
we would come along sooner or later. He had cal-
culated that we would arrive about eleven. When
we found him he had just gone to a deserted, fall-
132 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
ing ranch house to find a few boards to be used as
levers. He and T., taking our machine, now drove
to the ranch house and brought back a goodly sup-
ply of boards and some heavier pieces of timber
which they had torn from the dropping fences.
The boards they put in the rut in front of the wheels
in order that they might get a grip when once they
started. The heavier timbers they used as levers.
And so by dint of hard work and by the help of two
young men who passed in their motor half an hour
after our arrival, the front wheel was pried out of
the sticky mud, and the car was once more gotten
on firm ground. It was past one o'clock when we
climbed up the bare road to the high town of Austin
and went to the International Hotel for our lunch-
eon. What with lack of sleep and his long fast Mr.
N. was quite worn out. A good luncheon prepared
by a Japanese cook and served by a natty and
very debonair Japanese waiter put us all in better
trim.
Two miles beyond Austin we were 9000 feet
above sea level. As we reached this height we
could, looking back, see Austin below us. We also
had a fine view of the desert mountains. Here I
began to understand the conformation of the Ne-
BY THE LliVCOLlSr HIGHWAY 133
vada country. We were passing from one great
valley into another, hour after hour. When I
looked on the map of Nevada, I found a series of
short mountain ranges. I could see what we were
doing in our travel. We were descending into a
valley, crossing its immense width, coming up on
to a more or less lofty pass, usually bare, and de-
scending into another valley. It was very fasci-
nating, this rising and falling with always the new
vista of a new valley just opening before us.
But now came tribulations. Mr. N. had evi-
dently wrenched his machine in his struggle to free
it the night before. He began to have trouble, and
traveled more and more haltingly a little way be-
hind us. T. felt a personal responsibility for him
and we were continually stopping to wait for him.
Finally we halted at the head of a pass before
plunging down what turned out to be a long de-
scent. We had just climbed up from a wide valley
and could see nothing of our fellow traveler on the
slope behind us. T. left the car and went back;
and while I waited, looking off at the mountains,
two women reached my hilltop, the older one driv-
ing the Ford car in which they were traveling.
They looked like women of the plains, perfectly
184 ACROSS THE CONTINENT I
able to take care of themselves and to meet emer- !
gencies. They had food supplies with them, and ■
two dogs as fellow passengers. The one, a fox ,
terrier, was tied in a box in the tonneau and looked I
very unhappy. The other, a spaniel, was running j
back and forth on the rear seat and whining with \
anxiety to get out. His mistress told me that he j
was one of the greatest hunters in Nevada, and
that he was anxious to go off in the sage brush on ;
a grand chase. Just here the two men came up :
the hill with Mr. N.'s Ford car, weary and exhausted !
from going over its machinery and struggling to i
get it moving. The women warned us that in the ■
valley at the foot of the hill was a very bad mud hole i
which we must inevitably negotiate. They said that \
a stream from the mountains had in a recent \
freshet overflowed the plain and reduced both j
the road and the adjoining country to the state of :
a swamp. They assured us that we simply must go
through the mud hole and that we were bound to ;
get stuck in it. They cheered us, however, by tell-
ing us that a nearby settler had a sturdy draught
horse and that he would in all probability pull us |
out for the sum of $2.00 a motor car. We
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 135
thanked them for their warning and drove down
the long hill into the next valley.
I had been interested while waiting for Mr. N.'s
machine to come up, to see the beautiful cactus blos-
soms growing close to the ground on both sides of
the road. They were of a rich yellow and a rich
magenta color, single petaled and really beautiful.
I saw them growing all along through the desert.
In some places they made broad patches of color.
Coming on to another wide valley stretching away
for eighty miles and more, we saw the mud hole
before us and carefully examined the sides of the
road to see if we could not make a detour. The
spongy, muddy soil assured us that it was hopeless,
and that what the women had told us was only too
true. In the meantime the settler, working with
his wife and baby near at hand in his newly cleared
field, kept an eye on us. But he did not come to
our rescue until we called him. The Ford, being
the machine of lighter weight, started first through
the mud hole. Its wheels sank immediately and no
turning on of power could push it forward. We
then shouted to the settler. He came across the
field with his big horse, and as he drew near we
136 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
saw that he was a tall, good looking man with an
open and kindly face. I was secretly glad that the
poor fellow who had so recently cast his lot in this
lonely and immense valley had a chance to earn
some ready money. After a little pleasant dicker-
ing he agreed to pull the machines out for $1.00
apiece. The splendid big horse was harnessed to
the machine and at the word he threw his weight
against his traces and philosophically pulled away,
while Mr. N. at the same instant turned on his
power. The machine easily came out of the mud
and was soon on dry ground. T. drove our ma-
chine forward, was instantly imbedded in the mud
and was pulled out in the same way. It was inter-
esting to see how the big horse threw his weight
into the pulling at just the proper moment and re-
laxed as he felt the machine settle on the firm
ground. His master told us that the animal had
come with their little caravan from Colorado, seven
hundred and twenty miles, without turning a hair,
while the other horse sickened and died.
This man had only his few supplies and the little
tent in which they were living, together with a bit
of the rich land already cleared and planted to a
crop. He said that he had never seen richer land
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 137
than this from which the sage brush had been pulled
up and burned off. A thin muddy stream trickled
across the road from the hills and was used both
for irrigation and for drinking purposes. "But
when you come back next year, I shall have a well
down," said the brave homesteader. "And, by
George, if the County Commissioners won't put in
a bridge across this mud hole, I'll put one across
myself ! Just come back and see a year from now !"
We waved him goodbye and went on our way across
the lone valley and up another divide. The valley
was Monitor Valley, he told us. I can see him
standing there in the lovely light of the late after-
noon sun, he and his wife and their baby boy waving
us farewell. I should like to pass that way again
and to see whether he has replaced his tent by a
little house and whether his virgin fields are green
with a crop.
Some day, I suppose, those wide, far-stretching
acres will be dotted with houses and barns and
stacks of alfalfa. It is difficult to convey the im-
pression that these vast valleys with the hills in the
distance, and with the rich coloring of the sunrise
and the sunset, make upon one. They are lonely
and yet they are not lonely. They are full of life.
138 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
We saw hundreds of prairie dogs. Day after day
they scuttled across our pathway, often narrowly
escaping. Sometimes they sat on their hind legs by
their burrows, waiting as long as they dared until
the noise of the machine frightened them into their
holes. Sometimes a whole village of them would
watch us until we drew near, and then frantically
disappear. Sometimes we saw a coyote, usually in
the early morning or the late afternoon. We once
saw one whose curiosity was so great that he halted
perhaps fifty yards away, and looked at us from
this safe distance as we passed. Once we saw a
rabbit breathing his last near the roadside, his soft
eyes filled with a look of far away consciousness
and pain. And once we saw a beautiful antelope
leaping and bounding over the sage brush so lightly
that he looked in the distance like a phantom ani-
mal made of thistle down.
I can completely understand how the desert casts
its spell over cattlemen and sheepmen so that they
love it and its freedom and are continually drawn
back to it. The mystery and glory of the desert
plains have their devotees just as really as the mys-
tery and glory of the great city have their worship-
pers who never wish to be far from its lights.
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY, 139
The many stops of the day had made us very late
and it was in darkness that we came through the
canyon which makes a long gateway to the town of
Eureka. There was something fearsome about
those dark rocks, whose mysteries we had never
seen by daylight, rising on each side of us, and about
the deep chasm that lay in shadow down at the left
of the road. We were glad indeed when the lights
of our lamps flashed on the stakes with their fa-
miliar red, white, and blue markings, the friendly
signs of our beloved Lincoln Highway. It was
nearly nine o'clock when we came into Eureka, and
drew up at the dim lights of Brown's Hotel.
Brown's Hotel seemed to be mostly a bar room and
lounging place; at least that was the impression
made upon me by the glimpse I caught of the
lighted room downstairs as I stood on the wooden
porch. But we were shown upstairs to a very com-
fortable, old fashioned, high ceilinged room with
heavy walnut furniture of the style of forty years
ago. An aged ingrain carpet was on the floor, and
a wreath of wax flowers such as our grandmothers
rejoiced in, hung, set in a deep frame, on the wall.
I thought to myself that these were relics of de-
parted glories and of a day when there was money
140 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
to furnish the old hostel in the taste then in vogue.
A dim oil lamp assisted our toilet and we went
downstairs and out into the town to a restaurant
kept by an Italian and his wife. It was the only-
place where we could get food at that time of night.
Eureka is a most forlorn little town, perched high
and dry, just as if the waves of traffic and of com-
mercial life had ebbed away and left it far up on
the beach forever. They told us that it was once a
big and prosperous town. But like Mariposa in
California, the mining interests have been trans-
ferred to other localities and the town is left lonely.
As we walked along its silent and dimly lighted
main street, we saw the quaint wooden porches in
front of the shops and houses, some high, some low,
making an uneven sidewalk. Practically all of the
shops were closed, only the saloons being open.
The Italian had named his restaurant The Ve-
nezia in honor of his native city. It was a bright,
comfortable little room, the kitchen at the back of
it lightly screened from the dining room. It ad-
joined his hotel, quite a large building, where he
proudly told us he had twenty-two beds. His wife,
a stout, bright-eyed woman, cheerfully took our or-
der. "I am poor," she said smilingly, "so I cook
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 141
when other people ask me. If I rich I cook when
I feel like it." A savory smell arose from her fry-
ing pan, and we were soon eating excellent and gen-
erous slices of ham, drinking very respectable tea,
and enjoying some good bread and butter. It was
a most refreshing supper after a long and somewhat
trying day. We expressed our appreciation to our
Italian friends and paid the very modest reckoning.
142 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
CHAPTER VIII
The next morning we had breakfast at Brown's
Hotel. The landlord called my attention to a robin
who was building her nest in a tree in front of the
hotel ; the only tree that I recall seeing on the bare,
bald, yellow village street.
In our long ride of the day before, we had come
through Edwards Creek Valley, the Smith Creek
Valley, the Reese River Valley, the Antelope Val-
ley, the Monitor Valley, and other great valleys of
whose names I was not sure. We had seen the Clan
Alpine Mountains from Alpine ranch, the Toyabee
National Range, and other ranges whose names
were too many and too local for me to be sure of
them. And I had read of 275,000 acres that had
been placed on the market in Elko County alone.
I had read in the Elko paper that "For years, there
BY THE LINCOLiSr HIGHWAY 143
was a popular prejudice in the East that Nevada
was one grand glorious desert, the land worthless,
and that nothing could be grown out here. But in
later years the public back East has been shown
that such is not the case, but on the contrary, we
have the richest land in Elko County to be found
anywhere in the United States, and that the crops
here are the best and ahnost anything can be grown
in Elko County."
Having seen the rich land of our brave home-
steader in Monitor Valley, I was ready to believe
this outburst of local pride.
It was the 23rd of June when the landlord of
Brown's Hotel waved his farewell to us and we
drove on. All day we were among the hills, not
seeing them on far distant horizons, but continually
climbing and descending among them. Twenty-
three miles from Eureka we saw a wooded moun-
tain, quite different from the bald grey hills we
had seen the day before. Short, scrubby green
trees, somewhat like our New Jersey junipers,
grew on the mountain sides and gave this appear-
ance of foilage and greenness. We saw many of
them in our day's ride. When we reached Six Mile
House, having passed Fourteen IMile House, we
144 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
asked the ranchman's wife to give us some lunch-
eon. She said that she could not accommodate us,
having but few supplies on hand. She advised us
to go on to Hamilton and said that she would tele-
phone to the Hamilton House that we were com-
ing. In accordance with her directions we took a
turn to the right shortly after leaving Six Mile
House and climbed up through a narrow, rocky
canyon road. Finally, within a mile or so of Ham-
ilton, when we had one more hill to climb, we came
upon a morass made by the bursting of a water
pipe. We could not go around it and we dared not
attempt to go through it, no friendly settler with a
powerful horse being in sight. So we turned care-
fully about, went down the rocky road to the fork
where we had turned off, and took the other branch
of the fork. Then we climbed up another moun-
tain road until we reached the summit of the pass,
8115 feet. From here we had a grand view of the
mountains and we also met the high ridge road
from Hamilton. We pressed on down the hill past
a deserted ranch house to Moorman's Ranch, a hos-
pitable looking house by the roadside. At Moor-
man's Ranch we found an unforgettable hospital-
ity. Our host and hostess were Missourians, and
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 145
to our question as to whether they could give us
any luncheon at 2 o'clock, they gave us a most sat-
isfactory answer. Mrs. Moorman soon had a laden
table ready for us, and we sat down to fried bacon
and eggs, potatoes, lettuce, radishes, preserved cher-
ries, stewed prunes, milk, tea, and pie. How re-
freshing it all was ! And how pleasant was the soft
Southern accent of our hostess which she had not
lost in the years on the plains.
Moorman's Ranch is a large ranch with grazing
rights in the hills near by. The adjoining ranch
with its recently deserted ranch house is now a part
of Moorman's Ranch, and there is a large acreage
for the cattle. We learned that the wretched coy-
otes come down from the hills and steal the young
calves at every opportunity. Only a few days be-
fore, a cow had gone to drink leaving her new born
calf for a few minutes. When she came back, the
Httle animal had been struck down by a waiting
coyote. We learned too that the mountain lions
come down from the hills and sometimes attack
the young colts and kill them.
It was with sincere regret that we bade goodbye
to Captain and Mrs. Moorman. May their ranch
flourish from year to year!
146 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
Shortly after leaving the ranch and in crossing
another wide valley, we saw a herd of several hun-
dred wild horses feeding on the great plain — a beau-
tiful sight. They were grazing in a rich part of the
plain where the grass looked thick and lush.
I must own to having an impression that the
trail across Nevada could be marked by whiskey
bottles if by no other signs. All along our road
across the great State we saw the bottles where they
had been thrown in the sand and dust by passers-by.
Many times I thought of the "Forty-niners/* as
we saw the sign, "Overland Trail." In coming
along the Lincoln Highway, we are simply travers-
ing the old overland road along which the prairie
schooners of the pioneers passed. How much heart-
ache, heart-break, and hope deferred this old trail
has seen! I think of it as we bowl along so com-
fortably over the somewhat rough but yet very pass-
able road. I can appreciate now the touching
story in a San Francisco paper of an old lady who
came to the rear platform of a fine overland train
after passing a certain village station, and threw
out some flowers upon the plain. Near here, she
told her friends, her little baby had been buried in
the desert forty years before, as she and her bus-
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 147
band toiled with their little caravan along the trail.
The years had passed and they were prosperous and
old in California. And now as she went East on
the swift and beautiful train she threw out her
tribute to the little grave somewhere in the great
desert.
As we drew near Ely, the famous copper city, we
passed the huge mountain of earth which forms the
wealth of the Ely mines. The Lincoln Highway
signs take one to the right on a short detour in order
that one may see this mountain of ore, which is be-
ing cut away by immense steam shovels, tier above
tier. Returning to the main road, we drove on
through a canyon and so came into the bright little
town of Ely which has many evidences of prosper-
ity. We found the Northern Hotel, European in
plan, most comfortable. Next door was an excel-
lent cafe where we had a supper of which a New
York restaurant need not have been ashamed.
Leaving Ely on the morning of June 24th, we drove
through Steptoe Valley for some forty miles.
Where we turned off from the valley it still
stretched on for another forty miles. It looked as
if it might go on to the world's end. Just out of
Ely we passed through McGill and visited the im-
148 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
mense smelting works. There we saw the "concen-
trators," interesting machines to shake down the
heavy grains of copper from the hghter grains of
sand and earth. These big, slanting boards keep
up a continual shake, shake, shake while a thin
stream of water pours over them. They are a little
less slanting than the board of a woman's washtub
would be, and yet they lie somewhat like a wash-
board. The shaking of the board and the action
of the water combine to roll down the heavy grains
of copper. It seems a simple process, and yet the
regulation of the board's motion and the angle
of its slant are calculated to a nicety. There were
hundreds of these "concentrators" at work sepa-
rating the copper from its native earth. We saw
also the great smelting furnaces and realized how
it must have been possible for the men who pre-
pared the furnace for the burning of Shadrach, Me-
shach, and Abednego to be burned to death them-
selves. What a fearful heat rolled out as one
of the furnace doors was opened and a molten
stream of white-hot slag was raked into the gutter
below! And how the copper glowed as we saw it in
its enormous melting caldron! For the first time
I saw a traveling crane at work. A characteristic
I
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 149
sign was near it in both English and Greek. It
read, "Keep away from crane. Keep clear and
stand from under."
As we left Steptoe Valley and came down a long
slope into Spring Valley, we crossed Shellbourne
Pass under the shadow of the Shellbourne range.
We passed some young people from Detroit, the
gentleman driving his car. We also passed some
men with their laden burros taking supplies to the
sheepmen in the mountain ranges. These sheepmen
live their lives apart from the world for months at a
time, seeing only the man who brings their supplies
at intervals.
We had luncheon at Anderson's ranch, where they
treated us very hospitably. I judged that this was
a Mormon's household, as Mormon marriage cer-
tificates hung upon the w^all and as the Deseret
Weekly was evidently its newspaper connection
with the outside world. Here our friend Mr. N.
took on board a young man from the ranch who
Avished to get back to Salt Lake City. This young
fellow was delighted to have such a ride and Mr. N.
was glad to have a traveling companion. Later in
the day we passed Tippett's ranch and learned that
its owner travels thirty-six miles for his mail and
150 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
supplies. Toward evening we crossed the Utah
border and immediately came upon bad roads. We
had a rough stretch until we reached our station for
the night, Ibapah. Ibapah consists of a very
pleasant ranch house and of a general supply gro-
cery, both house and grocery owned by Mr. Sheri-
dan. We had a comfortable night at the ranch
house and purchased some beautiful baskets made
by the Indians and brought by them to Mr. Sheri-
dan for sale. The air was so fine and the evening
so delightful that we reluctantly retired. Never
can I forget the crystal silences of those still nights
on the high plains of the West. The next day, June
25th, we had a drive of one hundred and twenty
miles across rough and lonely country. From Iba-
pah we went on through the valley in which the
ranch lay, coming to an extremely rough canyon
road, practically nothing but the bed of a stream.
Then came Kearney's Ranch, where they warned
us of some mud holes in the road ahead. We drove
around a rocky point, picking our way carefully,
some hot springs and a sulphur lake smoking off in
the distance on our left. The mountains rose to the
right above our route, bare and bald. We came to
Fish Springs Ranch in the midst of this lonely
M
THE ft !:',«/ VOKK i
PUBLICLIBRARY
ASTOR, LENOX
TILDEN FOUNDATIOMQ
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 151
country and stopped for luncheon. Our host was
a tall and powerfully built elderly ranchman in a
blue jumper. A younger man lived with him and
the two did their cooking and eating in a little log
and stone house, near the main ranch house. He
explained to us that he kept the little house because
it was once a station on the Wells Fargo stage
route. "Horace Greeley ate at this table when he
came on his historic Western trip, and so I keep
the place standing," he said. His young helper
cooked our meal in the back room and our host
served it in the front one. We had fried eggs, po-
tatoes, pickles, cheese, bread, butter, and tea, and an
appetizing cup cake cut in square pieces. I no-
ticed a White House Cook Book lying on a little
table near by. Our host was very hospitable.
"Have some of them sweet pickles, folks." "Do we
raise cattle here ? You bet we do. I have had this
ranch over thirty years." As we left him he warned
us that we were now entering the "Great American
Desert" and that we would have sixty miles of dry
plain with very little undergrowth and with no wa-
ter. He told us that if we got into trouble we
should start a fire and "make a smoke." "I'll see
you with my glasses" he said, "and drive to your
152 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
rescue with gasoline and water." I had seen near
the ranch house a clear, bubbhng spring which
doubtless gave its name to the ranch.
We assured him that we were well stocked with
gasoline and that we had on our running board a
standard oil can filled with water. Wlien we were
twenty miles away I could still see the ranch house,
a tiny speck upon the horizon. At last we came to
a well by the roadside which was marked "County
well." The road, though somewhat bumpy, was in
many places smooth and excellent, a sort of clay
highway. Midway across the desert we met another
car and exchanged greetings.
Late in the afternoon as we were climbing up a
slight pass, a dust storm overtook us. The sky was
overcast, the mountains and plain were blotted out,
and we could only drive along slowly and endure
the choking clouds of dust until the storm had swept
by. It was blessed to come again into clear sun-
shine and to see the outlines of the mountains ap-
pearing once more. Once over the pass, we came
into a great ranch valley and saw that we had left
the bare plains behind us. We reached the Kanaka
Ranch in time for supper and were assured that we
could have lodging for the night. The Kanaka
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 153
Ranch of eight thousand acres is the property of
the Mormon church. It is under the charge of a
young manager who looks after the Hawaiians
(Kanaka meaning a South Sea Islander) who have
been converted to the Mormon faith, and who have
been brought to the ranch to work upon its acres
and to make their homes there under the friendly
shadow of the church's authority. The manager
was a dignified young man with a pleasant wife and
four dear little children. They gave us a most ap-
petizing supper and breakfast. "The difference
betv/een your belief and ours," said our host to T.,
"is that you believe in a completed revelation. We
believe in a continuous revelation."
I heard him talking very fluently in the Hawaiian
tongue to some of his disciples who had come in for
farm directions.
The next morning was wonderfully fresh and
clear, a rain having fallen during the night. We
had just a taste of what a rainy trip would be
across country, as we slipped about on the greasy
mud of the highway. One reason why our long
journey was so ideal was because of the dry season.
Day after day we came on over perfectly dry
roads and under perfectly clear skies. Another ad-
154 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
vantage of our journey was that we were traveling
East. Every afternoon the sun was behind us, to
our great comfort; and the beautiful light fell on
the plains and mountains ahead of us. No wonder
that we loved to travel late in the afternoon and
that we had to make a stern rule for ourselves to
follow, to the effect that no matter how tempted
we were, we would not travel after sunset.
By dint of creeping slowly along we passed the
slippery stretches of road and enjoyed the fine open
country with the mountains to the right and the
farms to the left. After passing Grantsville we
came by some large concentrators and smelters
in the shadow of the mountain. Turning left we
came around the shoulder of the mountain, and
there to our left was Great Salt Lake, sparkling and
blue-green in the morning light, a mountainous isl-
and in the middle of it. We could see the Casino at
the end of the long pier at Saltair, a favorite resort
for Salt Lake City people. We passed the miners'
homes at Magna and Garfield, someone having
written facetiously the sign "Mosquito Park" over
the entrance to a swampy district with its little set-
tlement of cottages. Now we came into a beautiful
upland country with fine farms and every appear-
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 155
ance of prosperity. Cottonwoods and tall poplars
were seen everywhere on the landscape. They are
very characteristic of this part of the country.
They grow rapidly and the cottonwood sends its
roots long distances in search of water. As we ap-
proached Salt Lake City, it appeared to us to be a
green, wooded city extending down a long slope on
the mountain side. The new State House towered
high at the upper end of the slope against the back-
ground of lofty mountains, still snowy, which guard
the city.
I was charmed with Salt Lake City. It has a
beautiful situation, high and picturesque. Its
streets are very wide and this gives a certain state-
liness and air of hospitality^ to the town. It is laid
out on a generous scale. Many of the residence
streets have green stretches of flower-adorned park
running through the center. The open lawns of
the homelike homes, the broad streets, the resi-
dences of stone and brick, the masses of pink
rambler roses climbing over them, all make a charm-
ing impression upon one. Then there are delight-
ful excursions into the canyons of the great moun-
tains near the city. We took such an excursion by
electric car line, fourteen miles up into Immigra-
T56 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
tion Canyon. This is the old trail along which the
Mormons came in 1847. At the end of the line is a
delightful hotel, the Pinecrest Inn. Had there
been time we could have taken many more canyon
trips.
**The Utah" is a beautiful hotel with every mod-
ern equipment. A great bee hive, the Mormon em-
blem, glows with light at night on top of the build-
ing. Of course we saw the Mormon tabernacle and
walked about its splendid grounds. I was particu-
larly interested in the "sea gull monument," de-
signed by Brigham Young's grandson, and erected
in memory of the sea gulls that saved the crops the
jfirst year of Mormon settlement by coming in flocks
and eating the locusts that threatened to destroy
everything green. We enjoyed the fine view from
the State University buildings on the "bench" high
above the town.
In Salt Lake City I purchased some "canyon
shoes" of a famous manufacture, and later I found
them admirable for heavy walking trips.
We left Salt Lake City by driving through Par-
ley's Canyon, a deep gash in the mountains parallel
to Immigration Canyon. It is a favorite local
drive to go out throue^h Parley's Canyon and re-
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 157
turn to Salt Lake City through Immigration Can-
yon. The roadway is very narrow, as it shares the
canyon floor with a raiboad track and with a rush-
ing stream, so one must drive carefully and keep a
sharp lookout for trains. We met an itinerant Bap-
tist missionary driving in his big caravan wagon
into the country for a preaching trip. After leav-
ing Parley's Canyon we came into open rolling
country, and passed the substantial stone buildings
of Stevens Ranch and Kimball Banch. Then came
Silver Creek Canyon, more open than Parley's
Canyon and with a fair road. We had luncheon at
the Coalville Hotel. I was attracted to the little
town of Coalville because there were so many yards
where old fashioned yellow rosebushes were laden
with bloom. We drove on through Echo Canyon,
whose red sandstone rocks, chiseled in many forms
by wind and weather, have very fine coloring.
At Castle Rock the whole formation is like that
of a massive fortification. Six miles before we
reached the town of Evanston, we crossed the State
line and were in Wyoming. It is a pity that these
State boundaries are indicated in many places by
such shabby, indifferent wooden signs, looking as
if they had been put up over night. Doubtless as
158 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
the Lincoln Highway is improved there will be dig-
nified boundary stones erected to mark the State
lines.
Evanston is a pleasant little town 6300 feet high.
Near Evanston is the Chapman Ranch, where many
thousands of sheep are handled. We stopped in
Evanston only a few minutes and then drove on
through delightful desert country, open and roll-
ing, grey-green and blue in its coloring. The
Wyoming desert has a sharper and more vivid
coloring than that of Nevada. The tableland is
more rolling and the mountains are farther away.
It is a wonderful sheep country, but the flocks are
at present in the mountain ranges. Later, as the
autumn comes on and cold falls upon their moun-
tain pastures, the herders will bring them dovm to
these plains over which we are passing.
Mr. Dudley of Alpine Ranch told us that should
we visit the ranch in autumn we would find the
whole valley covered with sheep. We heard much
"sheep talk" in Nevada and Wyoming. We
learned about the "shad scale" which the sheep eat,
and about certain kinds of sage brush that are very
nutritious. Mr. Dudley had pointed out to us a
low-growing white plant, somewhat like the "dusty
x.afte^.iaiihiifiMiiBfiiiiiff Bliiiiiiiir li iiM
.aMcom,
1. Prairie Schooners, Westward Bound. 2. Lincoln Highway Sign in
the Desert. 3. Sheep in the Wyoming Desert.
,^ THE NEW YORK .
PPBLICLIBRARY
ASTOf?, LENOX
l!!£ii^POUN0Ar,ON8
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 159
miller" of our childhood, that is extremely nutri-
tious for cattle.
Here and there on the desert we see fine bunches
of beef cattle, feeding in little oases; green, damp
stretches of country in the midst of an ocean of sage
brush.
Now and then we pass a cattleman or a sheep-
man riding with that easy give of the body which
is so graceful and so characteristic of Western
horsemen. I know nothing like it, save the easy
posture of those immortal youths who ride forever
in the procession of the Elgin marbles in the Brit-
ish Museum. They have the same graceful easing
of the body to the motion of the horse, and give
the same impression of the harmony of horse and
rider. Often we pass white, closely plastered log
houses, just such as we saw in Nevada. We
see white canopied wagons in the barnyards of al-
most every ranch house, just as in eastern Nevada.
These people think nothing of traveling long dis-
tances in their prairie schooners with their supplies
for roadside camping at night. They travel in
their wagons to pay visits, to transact business and
to buy supplies, and make long journeys in the
summer months.
160 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
The smell of the sage brush, pungent and aro- i
matic, is in my nostrils from day to day. I love it |
in its cleanness and spiciness, and shall be sorry
when we have left the desert behind us. We have
to be watchful for chuck holes made by the inde-
fatigable gophers or prairie dogs. They often bur- I
row in the ruts of the road. Our local guide leaf-
lets, furnished us by garages along the route, are
full of warnings about "chucks." Once we come
upon a badger, beautifully marked, who has thrown \
up a large mound of dirt in burrowing his tunnel
just in the middle of the road. He sees us coming i
and scuttles into his hole. We stop the car as we
get near the hole and sit motionless. We wait pa- I
tiently until finally his beautifully marked brown
and white head is thrust cautiously out of his shel-
ter. He is very curious to see what this huge black
thing is, standing silent near his dwelling. Twice
his head appears and his bright eyes peer out cu- i
riously. Then the click of the camera frightens |
him and he disappears to be seen no more. j
Occasionally we pass motionless bodies of go-
phers and rabbits that have been struck by the fly-
ing wheel of some passing motor as they madly ]
scrambled for safety. i
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 161
Late in the day we passed Fort Bridger with its
few old stone houses, probably barracks in the old
days. Shortly before coming into Fort Bridger
we came upon two draught horses feeding peace-
fully by the roadside. As they saw us, they imme-
diatelj^ came into the road and began to trot just
ahead of our machine. First we drove gently, hop-
ing that after their first fright they would turn
aside into the great plain which stretched for miles,
unbroken by fences, on each side of the road. But
no, they trotted steadily on. Then we drove faster,
hoping to wear them down and by the rush of our
approach to force them off the road. Once they
were at the side of the road we could quickly pass
them and their fright would be over. To our dis-
appointment they broke into a wild gallop and
showed no sign of leaving the road. They were
heavy horses, and we were sorry to have them thun-
dering so distressfully ahead of us. Then we
dropped into a slow walk and so did they. But as
soon as we traveled faster, they broke into a gallop.
For ten miles they kept this up. We were quite in
despair of ever dropping them, when suddenly we
came to a fork in the road. To our joy they ran
along the left fork. Our route was along the right
162 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
fork and we went on to Fort Bridger glad to be
rid of the poor frightened beasts.
A breeze sprang up toward sunset and we came
in the twihght to the httle town of Lyman where
the only hostel was The Marshal, half home and
half hotel, kept by Mrs. Marshall. As we came
into the town the high, snowy Wahsatch range was
on our right. We had first seen its distant peaks
about twenty-four miles out of Evanston.
Mrs. Marshall gave us an abundant supper and
we slept dreamlessly in a little upper room with one
window. Upon what a glory of sunrise did that
little upper window look out that morning of the
first of July! The vast landscape was bathed in
lavender light, the Wahsatch range and the moun-
tains of our Eastern pathway catching the first
glory of the coming sun, while the plains were in
deeper lavender.
The village street looked hke a pathway of lav-
ender. The little wooden, painted houses, the barns,
some red, some grey and unpainted, all glowed
with transforming light and color. Robins and
meadow larks were singing. Far, far to the north-
east was a purple horizon line. The air was like
wine. I stayed at the window until I was half
NEW YORK J
ICLIBRARVl
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 163
frozen in the cool morning air, entranced by it all.
It was at Lyman that we heard talk of the ever
smouldering feud between cattlemen and sheep-
men. Not far from Lyman is the "dead line" over
which sheepmen are not allowed to take their sheep.
On the other side of this stern boundary are the
cattlemen, and they have issued a warning to the
sheepmen which they have more than once carried
out. A few years ago a sheepman either purposely
or carelessly got over the dead line with his sheep.
He was mysteriously shot and two hundred of his
sheep were killed in one night. No one knows who
the murderer was. Back in the shadows looms the
threat of the cattlemen, grim and real.
We had been told in Wyoming of the buying of a
big ranch by adjacent ranch people in order that
no sheepman might come in to share the water and
the ranges with the cattleman.
Cattle will not feed, they tell us, where sheep
have fed, as the sheep tear up the earth and also
graze very closely. It is impossible for sheep and
cattle to graze comfortably on the same ranges.
We left Lyman in high spirits after a good
breakfast, driving along with the Wahsatch moun-
tains on our right and with detached moimtains
164 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
continually appearing on the horizon as we moved
eastward. We were now in the region of what
they call in the West "buttes," a "butte" being, so
far as I know, a detached, isolated mass of moun-
tain. The Wyoming buttes are wonderfully carved
by wind and sand and weather and many of them
present a mysterious and imposing appearance.
Often they are table lands, rising square and mass-
ive against the horizon like immense fortresses. On
the way to Granger these massive table lands with
their square outlines loom up against the grander
background of the snowy Wahsatch range.
The first thirty miles out of Evanston we had an
excellent road. There was a charming desert flower
growing in the dusty road and alongside, white and
somewhat like a single petaled water-lily. Its buds
were pink, and it sprang from a whorl of leaves
like those of a dandelion. Its fragrance was most
delicate. There was also the lovely blue larkspur,
and there were clusters of a brick-red flower which
grew rather tall. Then there were clumps of some-
thing very like a dark scarlet clover. The fine
mountain scenery, the fantastically carved buttes,
sometimes like miniature canyons, the glorious air,
all put us in delightful hmnour with ourselves and
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 165
the world. At the Httle town of Granger on the
railroad line we met two young pedestrians who
were walking on a wager from Kearney, Nebraska,
to Seattle. They were to have $500. apiece if they
reached Seattle by the first of August. Their yel-
loAV outing shirts bore the inscription, "Walking
from Kearney, Nebraska, to Seattle." They told
us they were able to make forty miles a day. When
they reached Salt Lake City they were to have sub-
stantial new walking boots from the merchants at
Kearney, the bargain being that at that point they
were to return their worn boots to be exhibited in
the shop windows of Kearney. They had been
halted at Granger because of lack of money, having
miscalculated their needs. They had just had a
telegram from home, sending them money and as-
suring them of more help if they needed it. They
looked strong and fit and were perfectly confident
that they would win the wager. We also met two
young motor-cychsts from Akron, Ohio, en route
for the coast.
There were several eating places at Granger, but
it was too early for luncheon, so we pressed on to
Green River, a Union Pacific Railway town. From
Granger to Green River the road was poorer and
166 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
more bumpy. Fine masses of rock and carved table-
land rose on the horizon as we drove along. As
we approached Green River a splendid red, yellow,
and clay-colored mountain loomed on the horizon,
which as we neared the town resolved itself into
long lines of buttes back of the town. Teakettle
Rock, an immense, isolated butte, rose to the left,
and Castle Rock was just back of the town. The
butte scenery both approaching and leaving Green
River was very fine. The coloring was extremely
rich; soft reds, yellows, browns, and clay colors.
There were long lines of round buttresses and
great concavities of rock, more like the famous
Causses of southern France than anything I have
ever seen.
We had luncheon at Green River in the spacious
dining room of the Union Pacific Station, and felt
ourselves quite in touch with the East to be eating
in the same dining room with passengers of the
long overland train.
Our drive from Green River to Rock Springs
and from Rock Springs to Point of Rocks was
through lonely, desert country. It was nearly six
o'clock when we reached Point of Rocks, but the
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 167
sun was still high. Point of Rocks is simply a wa-
tering station for the trains and is marked only by
a station house, a grocery, and a few little cottages.
The young groceryman has fitted up the rooms
over his grocery for passing travelers. We estab-
hshed ourselves in the front one, lighted by one little
window. It was very clean, though very simply
furnished. The floor was bare and our furniture
consisted of a bed, a chair without a back, a tin
wash basin resting upon the chair, a lamp, a pail
of fresh water with a dipper, and a pail for waste
water. We had two fresh towels and felt ourselves
rich in comfort. Next door to the grocery was a
little cottage where a woman cooked for the few
railway operatives and for travelers. Our bacon
was somewhat salty and our coffee a little weak,
but our supper and breakfast tasted good for we
had the sauce of hunger. We met there a young
railway operative who had come from the East to
this high, dry situation for the climate. He told
us that when he first came, the change to the still-
ness and space of the plain from the busy city and
from his life as a journalist was so great that he
could not keep still. He said that he walked fifteen
168 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
miles a day, driven by some inner restlessness; but
that he gradually became used to the quiet and now
he loved it.
We had an evening talk in the grocery with a
young commercial man, who said laughingly that
these accommodations were somewhat different
from the gorgeous Hotel St. Francis of San Fran-
cisco. We assured him that we did not mind sim-
plicity and were deeply interested in seeing our
country under all sorts of conditions. He was
spending some hours of his time before the solitary
train came through in persuading the groceryman
to commit himself for a large bill of goods. The
commercial man said sadly that never before in his
ten years of travel had he seen business so uncer-
tain.
The water at Point of Rocks comes from a thou-
sand feet below the surface and has a slight sulphur
taste.
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 169
CHAPTER IX
We drove from Point of Rocks to Wamsutter,
where we had luncheon. The road from Point of
Rocks to Wamsutter is very rough and we were
tormented by the plague of these roads of the
plains; namely, gutters made across the roadway
by running water in time of freshets. One has to
be continually on guard for these runnels. Some-
times they are very deep. They give the machine
a frightful jar and if one comes upon them sud-
denly they are likely to break an axle. One must
possess one's self in patience and drive at a pace
that will enable him to slow down quickly in com-
ing on them. Chuck holes and these gutters across
the road are the two chief difficulties of travel
across the plains. However, many a backcountry
170 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
road of the Eastern States is just as uncomfortable
for motor travelers.
On our way to Wamsutter we passed a fellow
traveler, a gentleman from New York with his fam-
ily. His son drove their car, a Pope Hartford, and
they were seventeen days out from New York.
They had ten days more in which to reach San
Francisco if they were to help their friends win the
wagers which had been made on the time of their
trip across country. We assured them that they
would be able to reach San Francisco in ten days,
barring serious accidents, if only they would rise
early and drive late, making ten hours a day.
Just outside of Point of Rocks we had come
upon another and a humbler caravan. A man and
his wife were encamped in a canvas-covered moving-
wagon by the roadside, having found a patch of
grass that promised forage for the horses. We
stopped to talk with them and learned that they
lived near Pueblo, Colorado. Having planted their
crop they had come away on a prospecting tour into
northern Wyoming to look up better farming coun-
try. They were now returning, traveling by day
and camping by the roadside at night. They had
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 171
had what is called mountain fever, due they thought
to the bites of mosquitoes.
They liked the Wyoming country they had seen,
but deplored the heavy drinking. They told us of
one man who had said that he did not mean to go
into town on the Fourth of July. Everybody got
drunk, said he, and he did not want to put himself
in the way of temptation. They spoke of a lovely
farming country in the midst of which was a little
town where saloons were open all night and all day
Sunda3^ They told us of one saloon keeper who
had been hauling barrels of whiskey for days in
preparation for his business of July 4th. He
openly boasted that he meant to take in $3,000. on
that day.
As we drive along, we constantly see the remains
of former camps by the roadside. Old tin teaket-
tles, pieces of worn-out campstools, piles of tin cans ;
these are mute and inglorious monuments to the
bivouacs of other days. These immense Plateau
States are very dependent upon canned foods, and
all along tin cans mark the trail. We have many
evidences, too, that we are in a sheep and cattle
country. We pass the dried up carcasses of sheep
172 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
and the bones of cattle and of horses as they lie
upon the desert near the road. Often the fleece of
the sheep, dried and shrunken by wind and weather,
sticks to the bones of the animal. It lies where it
fell, only one of a vast herd, sick and dying, per-
haps freezing in a blizzard. We asked one coun-
tryman what the sheep did in case of the fierce
storms that sometimes sweep over the winter plains.
"They just hump up and die," he replied. We saw
many a shriveled carcass of some poor animal that
had succumbed and fallen never to rise again. But
so high are these plains and so dry is the atmos-
phere, that nature quickly shrivels these carcasses
and they are not offensive as they would be in damp
climates.
Out on the desert we waited for a long freight
train to pass as it stood blocking the roadway. The
train conductor came along and he and T. ex-
changed greetings. "It's good to see you," said the
conductor; "you motor people are about the only
signs of life we fellows see out here on the desert."
Coming into Wamsutter, and later coming to-
ward Rawlins, we flushed numbers of grey-brown
prairie chickens, almost as large as hens. They
would fly up from the sage brush as the noise of our
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 173
machine came near. There were some large flocks
of young birds. Between Rawlins and Laramie we
met late in the afternoon a large caravan of mov-
ers. They looked foreign and were evidently in
search of new farms and homes. They were drink-
ing, and watering their tired horses at a small sta-
tion on the railway. There were plenty of little
children in the caravan. One woman dandled a tiny
baby. A little farther on we came to a second and
smaller camp. These people were traveling from
Kansas to Washington. "There is good land there
still that can be taken up by homesteaders, fine
fruit lands," said they. One man had seen the land
and was acting as guide for the others. Their wag-
ons were drawn by horses and burros. The chil-
dren were sweet, cheerful little people, but the
whole party looked somewhat underfed. I would
have liked to give them all the luxury of a hot bath
in a big tub to be followed by a substantial supper.
They had their water with them, having hauled it
from the last point where water was to be had.
They deplored the fact that they had camped be-
fore knowing of the Union Pacific Station a little
farther on. Water is a precious thing in the desert.
We have passed two places where signs read that
174 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
water could be had at the rate of five cents per
beast and twenty-five cents a barrel. At the wa-
tering stations on the Union Pacific Railroad, the
wells are the property of the Road. Before we
came into Medicine Bow, we passed through a little
mining town, high and bare on the summit of a
ridge. Just outside the town was a bare Httle cem-
etery, the brown graves decorated with paper
crosses and wreaths. An iron fence protected the
cemetery, and outside its boundaries was an untidy
litter of old wreaths and crosses which had been dis-
carded and had been blown by the wind in tight
heaps against the fence.
Ten miles beyond Medicine Bow the character of
the country suddenly changed. We came from the
grey and brown desert into fine rolling uplands dot-
ted with the new homes of homesteaders and green
with the precious water of irrigation. This was a
country newly settled and bearing every mark of
prosperity. At one point on the road we had great
difficulty in getting through. A careless settler had
allowed the water of his irrigating ditch to run out
upon the road. It was with the greatest difficulty
that we succeeded in getting through the mud.
Only the help of some fellow motorists from San
THE NEW YORK
IpUBLIC LIBRARY
A8TOR. LENOX
TILDFN FOUNDATIONS^
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 175
Francisco, who stopped to push the car while T.
turned on its power, enabled us to get through. A
few miles on we met the road commissioner who
proudly called our attention to the work that was
being done on the roads of his county. He told us
that he was on his way to arrest and fine the care-
less homesteader who had flooded the road. After
this fine stretch of fertile country we plunged once
more into a long stretch of desert. It was here
that I saw and welcomed the beautiful yucca that
I had seen growing in California. I saw too in
Wyoming quantities of cactus blooming in broad
patches of color, usually buff.
All day we mounted one ridge after another,
buttes to the left and to the right of us; driving
through a vast country with practically no ranch
houses and only isolated stations on the railroad for
watering purposes.
As we approached Wamsutter a wonderful great
tableland lay to the right of us, very high and with
an immense level top. It was like a fortress with
its buttresses and ramparts carved by nature. To
the left was a butte that was like a side view of the
Sphinx, an immense pyramid rising beside it. As
we came into Wamsutter, we drove along a ridge
176 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
where the road had been laid to avoid a low marshy
tract of land.
Red Desert Station, just before reaching Wam-
sutter, is well named, the buttes having wonderful
color.
The day was hot, and it was a rehef when the
afternoon sun began to dechne. We felt that we
were dropping with it. But we were dropping
toward the East while it was falhng toward the
West. In the afternoon, out on the great plain,
we had crossed the Continental Divide. It had not
been marked by any visible elevation of land above
the surrounding country. All was open country,
rolhng and vast, and yet we had ascended the West-
ern slope and were now going down to the Missis-
sippi Valley.
We must soon begin to say farewell to the Pla-
teau States. The long upward climb is practi-
cally over. We look forward with the streams to
the Atlantic, leaving behind the water courses to
the Pacific.
Shortly after crossing the Divide we came to a
low head stone and a wooden cross at the left of
the road, marking the grave of a man of thirty-five
who died in 1900. It is a lone grave on this rolling
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 177
ridge, yet it is destined to be passed by many trav-
elers in future years.
Some day the Divide will be marked upon the
Lincoln Highway by a monument, and the trav-
eler will have a satisfactory outward expression of
the thoughts that fill his heart.
Rawlins was our halting place for the night. It
is a pleasant town with wide streets and plenty of
sunshine. The post office is a beautiful little build-
ing. We fraternized in Rawlins with fellow trav-
elers, a lady and her son who were going on from
Colorado Springs to Pasadena in a beautiful Stutz
roadster.
In Rawlins as in most Western towns, we stayed
at a hotel managed on the European plan and ate
our meals in a nearby restaurant. It is always a
surprise to me to see the number of people in the
restaurants and cafaterias of the West. Even in
small towns these places are crowded.
As we came into Rawlins we saw Elk Moun-
tain rising nobly on the horizon beyond us. When
we left Rawlins and traveled toward it, it grew
more imposing.
Instead of going on to Arlington, directly under
the shadow of Elk Mountain, we elected to turn off
178 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
to Medicine Bow, made famous by Owen Wister's
book, "The Virginian." Elk Montain rises 12000
feet, and Medicine Bow is 6500 feet, above sea level.
It is only a railroad station, a tiny cluster of saloons,
a still smaller cluster of shops, a big shearing shed,
and a substantial stone hotel called The Virginian.
The landlady of The Virginian told us that their
hotel is always full of guests.
It is a busy place. Here the woolmen come to
trade and to export their wool, here the sheepmen
bring their sheep for the annual shearing. Nearly
sixty thousand sheep are shorn annually in the
shearing shed, a few minutes' walk from the hotel.
Here the plainsmen come from time to time to
throw away in a few hours of drinking and gam-
bling the money earned in months spent in the open.
We had an excellent substantial lunch at the
hotel and then went over to see the shearing.
How hot and uncomfortable the poor sheep
looked in the waiting pen, with their heavy fleeces
weighing them down! They stood panting in the
sun, their broad backs making a thick rug, so tightly
were they wedged in together. And how half
ashamed they looked when they came out from the
shearing, thin and bare!
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 179
In this establishment the shearing is all done by
machinery. It takes a skillful man to run these
rapidly clicking shears over the animal's body and
make no serious wound. The overseer told us that
in the case of an inexperienced man the sheep
would "fight him all over the pen." The shearer
reaches out his right hand and grasps one of the
three or four sheep that have been pushed into a
little compartment from the main pens. The beasts
stand stupidly huddled together. The shearer
takes one by its left hind leg, and by a skillful
twist he throws it on its back and pulls it toward
him. Then he yanks it into a sitting position with
its back against his knees. Bending over it he takes
off first the thick coat of wool on its under-
body from throat to tail. It looks very easy, but
only skill can guide the shears through that thick
mass of wool, taking it off so cleanly and thor-
oughly, and yet leaving the pink skin unbroken.
Next come the fore legs, then the hind legs, then
the wool is trimmed from around the eyes and from
the top of the head. The workman moves very care-
fully here. Then the sheep is righted and the wool
is cut from its back and sides. It is interesting to
see how quietly the animal submits to it all.
180 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
Quickly it is all over and an attendant pushes the
sheep through another aperture back into an outer
pen. The men work very rapidly and a good
shearer can easily handle one hundred sheep a day.
Some expert shearers can handle nearly two hun-
dred. These men are paid nine cents a head for
their work.
It was a picturesque sight in the long, airy shed.
Six men were handling their sheep, the clicking
shears moving rapidly over the big animals. A boy
gathered up the wool as fast as it dropped from
the sheep. Later it would be sorted into its dif-
ferent grades. An important, happj^ sheep dog ran
wildly about, eyes shining, tail wagging, his sharp
nose lifted to his master's face. He seemed to be
saying, "This is fine, master, but isn't there some-
thing that I could do at this moment?" The over-
seer stood at the end of the shed looking down the
row of busy workers.
From Medicine Bow we came to Laramie, reach-
ing there on the eve of the Fourth of July. Lara-
mie boasts a good hotel which was crowded with
people. Ranchmen had brought their families for
the festivities of the Fourth. Tall cowboys lounged
about, wearing their most ornamental tall boots.
THE NEW YORK
IpUBLlCLIBRARI
A8TOR. LENOX
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 181
their best silk shirts, and brightest neckties. The
streets in the evening were full of people, some on
horseback, some walking. Confetti, those noise-
makers known as "cluckers," and the miniature
feather dusters called "ticklers," were all in evi-
dence. Everybody was in good humour and in a
mood of expectation.
The morning of the Fourth we drove out to the
edge of the town to see the State University, a mod-
est cluster of good buildings. Then we drove about
the town to see the cowboys on their handsome
horses, and the young women who accompanied
them, riding easily astride. There was to be a
morning exhibition of lassoing, racing, and other
feats of skill and strength. We met many people
riding and driving into town, all in holiday dress.
But we pressed on Eastward.
We passed Red Buttes, having a grand view of
the wonderfully colored Buttes off to the left.
Masses of blue larkspur grew in the fields and
alongside the Highway. We had left our beloved
desert behind us and were in rolling grass and grain
country. Near the Colorado line we turned toward
the south to go to Denver, thereby missing the
Ames Monument on the direct route to Cheyenne.
182 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
The mountains of Colorado now rose in the near
distance; rocky peaks, pine clad and snowy. At
this point we met some parties of travelers ; a motor
party from Lincoln, Nebraska, and another from
Lexington, Kentucky. Both motor cars were go-
ing into Laramie for the celebration of the Fourth.
The gentleman from Lexington, who was driving
his wife and himself, had a beautiful Locomobile
roadster, newly purchased in Chicago. His car had
every modern equipment and convenience, and he
was mightily proud of it. We all halted to enjoy
the grand view of the country toward which they
were moving and which we were leaving behind us.
Miles of rolling, grassy country, clean and wind-
swept, lay to the west. It was an inspiring pros-
pect, and filled us all with a sense of exaltation.
Said the Kentucky lady to me, "I felt as if every-
thing bad in me was swept clear out of me when I
first looked at this wonderful view." A third
party of travelers came along from Cheyenne as we
stood gazing. They had a unique outfit, a prairie
schooner drawn by four burros abreast. The father
and mother, several children, and a friend lived
cheerfully in this moving house, making, they told
us, about fifteen miles a day. When they were
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 183
short of funds, they encamped in some town and
the men worked to replenish the treasury. They
had their household food supplies neatly packed on
shelves running along the sides of their canvas
canopy.
"This is our home," said the husband and father.
The children were gentle little creatures, but looked
thin and underfed. All were bound for some un-
known haven on the Pacific coast or in the North-
west. They felt sure that they would find rich
farming country there still open to homesteaders.
What a contrast between the elegant Locomobile
car and the humble prairie wagon, drawn by four
shaggy burros, chosen because they could endure
hardships ! Our friends of the wagon allowed us to
take their picture, and we parted with mutual good
wishes.
We passed the Colorado State boundary marked
by a very simple board sign, and came into a new
country of rocks and hills. We came through a
canyon where we found some movers encamped in
a pleasant hollow by a mountain stream. South-
ward we moved, passing some fine rugged buttes
to our left. We took luncheon at a pleasant farm
house hotel, known as the Little Forks Hotel. Our
184 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
farmer host and hostess were very agreeable and
gave us a refreshing meal. We left them to drive
on through Fort Collins, a very pleasant town in
the midst of alfalfa fields.
Just south of Fort Collins we turned to the right,
drove across the plains and entered the mouth of
the Big Thompson Canyon. We were en route for
the famous tract of mountain meadow, of forest and
canyon, known as Estes Park.
A long procession of motor cars was entering the
park and another line of cars kept passing us.
Many people were driving up the Canyon and many
were leaving after a day spent in picnicking. For
the most part the Canyon road ran very low and
close to the bed of the brawling river. It was a
most lovely road, winding and picturesque. Finally
we came to the end of the Canyon and entered the
green meadows which are at the beginning of the
Park itself.
We were told that the hotels and camps were
crowded, it being holiday time, and that we would
do well to stop at the simple but comfortable ranch
house located near by. We found ourselves com-
fortable indeed and were content to make the ranch
house a base for our driving expeditions.
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 185
We were on the beautiful Lord Dunraven Ranch,
with its rich meadows admirably adapted for cattle
grazing. Our host was the manager of the ranch,
now largely owned by Mr. Stanley, the manufac-
turer of the Stanley Steamer. Farther up the val-
ley was the beautiful Stanley Hotel.
I had thought that Estes Park was a smooth and
shaven park region, not realzing that it was
a vast mountain territory, with high mountain
meadows overlooked by lofty peaks and diversified
by tracts of mountain forest. There are scores of
miles of driving and horseback riding in the Park,
plenty of hotels and camps in wonderfully beautiful
situations, and glorious fishing and mountain climb-
ing. One may gaze at the mountains from great
open meadows and camping sites from 8000 to
9000 feet above sea level. We lamented the fact
that we had only a day in which to see Estes Park.
We could have spent a week there in driving and
walking about.
Colorado is rich in mountain scenery and in beau-
tiful camping places for the lover of hills and
streams, the pedestrian and the fisherman.
We came down from the high plateau of the Park
by the canyon of the Little Thompson; a still more
186 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
precipitous road than that of the Big Thompson
Canyon. Reaching Lyons, we turned toward
Boulder, driving along with alfalfa meadows to the
left and the foot hills of the Rockies to the right.
Our undulating road was an excellent one.
We enjoyed the wide sky, the rich grassy plains
stretching away to our left, with ranch houses
marked here and there by clumps of Cottonwood
trees. We knew that this was irrigated country,
reclaimed from what was once a wide desert. After
a time we passed a wagon, canvas covered, drawn
by two plodding horses. I thought the driver must
be foreign, as he turned out to the left when we
came up behind him, but he quickly recovered him-
self and turned right. We soon left him far be-
hind us.
But suddenly there was a grinding sound. The
machine halted and refused to move. We were
stalled on the road and no amount of effort availed
to move us. Something had gone seriously wrong.
There was nothing for it but to push the machine to
the side of the road, and wait patiently for the trav-
elers in the covered wagon. We were six miles from
Boulder, and evidently had a serious break in
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 187
the machine. Later it transpired that our gears
were broken.
After a time the wagon came toihng along and its
occupants most hospitably invited me to drive into
Boulder with them. Two men, one elderly, the
other young, were on the driver's seat. In the
wagon were their two wives and a troop of little
children, the family of the younger pair, and the
grandchildren of the older pair. A happy collie
dog climbed wildly about over the children. "He's
the biggest kid in the wagon," said his master.
The party had been camping in a mountain can-
yon for their holiday and were now on their way
home. The men and women were English, the older
couple having been thirty-three years in this coun-
try. "I've dug coal for forty-five years," said the
older man.
"Tell them you rode with one of the striking min-
ers, one of the sixteen who was put in jail. Put
that in your book," he said with a grim twinkle.
(How did he know I was writing a book?)
"We're poor but we're gentlemen still. We
wouldn't be slaves to Rocky feller," said the younger
man.
188 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
A little later he asked for the jug of spring wa-
ter, and for "the bottle." The women looked at me
dubiously, and tried to quiet him. "Come now," he
said laughing, "there's no use delay in' matters.
Where's the bottle?" So with some embarrassment
on the part of the women and much laughing on
the part of the men a full whiskey bottle was pro-
duced. Each man had a nip of whiskey and a nip
of cold water.
The children were merry little creatures, climb-
ing over one another and playing with the dog.
The youngest little girl slept peacefully, being ten-
derly watched by her mother and grandmother.
When we came into the wide streets of the uni-
versity town of Boulder, I offered as delicately as
possible to pay for my six mile lift. But they would
have none of it. "No, no," said the younger man
cordially, "we're glad to help anybody in trouble."
So I hastened over to the candy shop and bought a
box of the best chocolate candy for the children.
My last sight of them as they drove out of town was
of the little faces crowding happily around the box.
In Boulder we found The Boulderado a delight-
ful place in which to lodge, and the Quality Cafe-
teria a place for admirably cooked food.
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 189
We had several days to wait for our machine to
be repaired, so we were free to enjoy Boulder and
to take the interurban electric car for Denver.
Boulder has a most picturesque situation, and is a
town of delightful homes and of fine State Univer-
sity buildings. I saw at Boulder the same soft sun-
set colors, the same delicate blues, pinks, and greys
that one sees in an Australian sunset.
Later we drove to Denver in our own car and
were free to enjoy the drives about the city. "The
Shirley" is a very well kept European hotel, and
if one wishes to take one's food elsewhere there is
"Sell's" with its delicious rolls and excellent coffee,
tea, and chocolate; and there is the Hoff-Stauffer
Cafeteria, presided over by a woman and offering
excellently cooked food to hosts of people.
Every traveler should view the sunset from
Cheesman Park in Denver. One can drive there
easily over the fine streets of the city. Beside the
pavilion, modeled on classic lines, one may sit in
one's car and look off at one hundred and fifty
miles of mountains, stretching from Pike's Peak on
the south to Long's Peak on the north. It is a
grand view and should be seen more than once
to be fully appreciated. One may sit on the steps
190 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
of the fine Capitol building just a mile above sea
level, and enjoy the same view.
Or one may take a famous mountain drive,
winding up and up a stiff mountain road until one
has reached the summit and can look down on miles
of plains and on the city of Denver in the distance.
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 191
CHAPTER X
Leaving Denver in the afternoon, we drove to
Boulder ; from Boulder to Piatt ville and from Platt-
ville due north to Greeley. All along to the left,
between Plattville and Greeley, we had fine views
of the whole line of mountains, and particularly of
Long's Peak. Again we were impressed by the
fertility of the Colorado alfalfa fields and by the
rich green of its meadows. Greeley is a very attrac-
tive town with wide streets and with pretty homes
set in green lawns. It is well shaded, stands high,
and looks off to the noble line of mountains to the
south. Early on July 15th we left Greeley, taking
a last look at the glorious mountains to the south.
We passed through fields upon fields of alfalfa and
of grain. Great stacks of alfalfa everywhere dot-
ted the country. The greenness of the land was
192 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
refreshing. Then we came into more rolling coun-
try, less cultivated. We were plainly in a new
part of the country, in this northwest corner of the
State. The houses were new, and often small. In
some places new houses stood alongside the old
ones, the earlier ones being made of tar paper and
looking like little cigar boxes. Some houses had
tents erected near them for use as barns. Some
houses were made of sod. There were very few
trees, most ranch houses looking bare and bald. We
passed quantities of a beautiful blue flower, grow-
ing sometimes in great patches. Its bell-shaped
flowers, sometimes rose, sometimes lavender, grew
on tall green stalks. We also saw a beautiful
starry white flower growing along the roadside. At
Sterling we had a particularly good luncheon at
the Southern Hotel on the main street. We ex-
horted our host and hostess to put out a Lincoln
Highway sign, so that none should miss their ex-
cellent table.
We saw our old friends, the Matilija poppies,
growling along the roadside as we went along in the
hot afternoon. This was one of the hottest days of
driving that we had in all our tour, and in it we
made our longest run, two hundred and eight miles.
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 193
We took early supper at the Commercial Hotel at
Julesburg. Not long after leaving Julesburg we
came upon a flamboyant sign which announced that
we were nineteen miles from Ogallala, Nebraska.
The sign also informed us with particular emphasis
that Ogallala was "a wet town." We had crossed
the State line and had left behind us Colorado with
its mountains, its green meadows, its wild yuccas,
its Matilija poppies, and its dark masses of pine
trees.
As we drove along in the dusky twilight, little
owls kept flying low in front of our car, attracted
by its lights. Sometimes a rabbit sat in the middle
of the road, blinking and bewildered. We always
gave him time to recover himself and leap into the
shadows of the roadside. We had had another ex-
quisite sunset with the same soft pastel shades that
I had seen at Boulder. During the day we had
seen many meadow larks, red- winged black birds,
and doves. We had seen, too, man}^ sparrow hawks,
sitting silent on the fence posts, waiting for the ap-
proach of evening. In one place we saw a poor
young meadow lark, hanging dead from a barbed
wire fence. He had evidently in flying struck his
throat full against one of the barbs and had hung
194 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
there, impaled to death. At Ogallala we found a
very comfortable lodging house, The Hollings-
worth, built over a garage. We had a good room
there, although it was impossible to find a cool spot
on that broiling night.
The next morning, as we took breakfast at a
nearby restaurant, we learned that Ogallala had
had a grand contest and had "gone dry" two weeks
before. An enthusiastic gentleman who had taken
part in the conflict told us that already the town
was wonderfully changed. We congratulated him
and urged him to see to it that the sign nineteen
miles to the west heralded Ogallala as a dry town
rather than a wet one.
The next day was cooler. The mountains had
disappeared, and only wide rolling fields, sometimes
as level as a floor, lay before us. We were crossing
Nebraska. We came by a rather poor road, really
a grassy trail, to North Platte, where we had lunch-
eon at the Vienna Cafe. As we were driving along
between Ogallala and North Platte, the grass grow-
ing high in the road tracks, we came suddenly upon
a bevy of fat quail walking in the road. As they
flew somewhat heavily, I felt sure that our wheel
had struck some of them. So I went back to see.
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 195
Three of them lay dead in the road, having been
unable to fly in time to avoid the wheels. The noise
of our machine had been muffled by the fact that
that we were driving over a grassy road and they
had not heard us until we were on them. We were
sorry indeed to have killed the beautiful little brown
creatures. All through California and Colorado
we had seen them, as they were constantly flying
up in front of the machine and running off to cover.
All along, the killdeer were darting about, calling
loudly and piercingly.
Beyond North Platte we came upon a country
house which had been pre-empted by a jolly house
party of girls from town. They had put out some
facetious signs: "Fried Chicken Wanted" and
"Votes for Women." We stopped to call upon
them and told them of our trip across the country,
while they insisted upon serving us with cake and
lemonade.
Late in the day we passed some groups of mov-
ers, their horses and cattle with them. We saw
glorious fields of corn and of alfalfa, and we
saw fields dotted with little mounds or cocks of
wheat and of millet. Four miles before coming
into Kearney, we passed the famous sign which
196 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
marks the distance halfway between San Francisco
and Boston. We had seen a print of this sign,
pointing 1,733 miles West to Frisco and East
1,733 miles to Boston, on the cover of our Lin-
coln Highway guide, issued by the Packard
Motor Car Company. We stopped now to take a
photograph of it. A woman living in a farmhouse
across the road was much interested in our halt.
She said that almost every motor party passing
stopped to photograph the sign.
We heard from her of two young women who
were walking from coast to coast, enjoying the
country and its adventures. Somehow we missed
them in making the detour from Laramie to Den-
ver. We had seen their photographs on postcards
which they were selling to help meet their expenses.
They were sisters, and looked very striking and
romantic in their walking dress. They wore broad-
brimmed hats, loose blouses with rolling collars, and
wide trousers, tucked into high laced boots such as
engineers wear. Each carried a small revolver at
her belt. We were sorry to have missed seeing
them against the picturesque background of the
Wyoming plains.
At Kearney we had supper at "Jack's Place,"
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 197
and went on in the twilight to Minden, where we
proposed stopping at "The Humplirey." We passed
through long fields of corn and over lonely rolling
prairies. The cornfields with their rows of tasseled
stalks were like the dark, silent ranks of a waiting
army, caped and hooded, standing motionless until
marching orders came. The air was clear and fine,
and the electric lights of Minden shone from afar
with the brilliance of stars.
From Minden, we came by way of Campbell to
Red Cloud, where we had luncheon at the Royal
Hotel.
We had made this detour to Minden and Red
Cloud in order to call upon a friend who is enthu-
siastic over his fine ranch near Red Cloud. Gal-
loway cattle are his specialty, and he finds the roll-
ing plains of southern Nebraska a fine place to
breed them. From Red Cloud we came on in the
afternoon through Blue Hill to Hastings, and
through Hastings to Fremont. We were en route
for Lincoln, where we hoped to spend the night.
Between Minden and Red Cloud the country is
very rolling, and sweeps away from the eye in great
undulations. High on some of these ridges were
fine silhouettes outlined against the sky: loaded
198 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
wagons bringing in the sheaves of grain ; men stand-
ing high, feeding these sheaves to the insatiable
maw of the threshing machine; a boy standing in
the grain wagon as the thick yellow stream poured
into it, leveling the grain with a spade; all these
and many other pictures of the Idyl of Harvest.
For two hundred miles of our run the smoke of
the threshing machines rose in the clear sky.
Sometimes the fields were covered with stacks
of wheat looking like great yellow bee-hives. Some-
times the wheat was in rounded mounds or cocks.
Surely we were seeing the bread of a nation on
these vast Nebraska plains.
Along the roadsides were quantities of "snow on
the mountain," its delicate grey-green leaves edged
with a pure white border. Across the fields the
killdeer were flying, and calling in their shrill, clear
notes, which always seem to breathe of the sea.
They were not out of place, flying above these long
billows of brown earth. The farmhouses were
marked by clumps of cottonwood trees, and as we
moved Eastward a few low evergreens began to
appear.
Around Blue Hill the country is very fine, being
a great plateau stretching off into illimitable dis-
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 199
tances. As we climbed the hill to the little town
we met a farmer in his wagon who had just des-
patched a bull snake, a thick, ugly-looking crea-
ture. We stopped to pass the time of day, and he
told us that he came to Nebraska from Illinois in
'79 in a covered wagon. He was enthusiastic over
Nebraska.
We made another stop to watch at close range
the operations of a threshing machine. It was a fine
sight. Two yellow streams came from the spouts
of the machine ; a great stream of chaff which rap-
idly piled up in a yellow mountain, and another
stream of the heavy grain, pouring thick and fast
into a wagon. One of the men told us that they
had threshed fourteen hundred bushels the day be-
fore, working fourteen hours in fine, clear weather.
Everywhere the lovely grey doves were flying.
There were hundreds of young meadow larks, too,
and great numbers of red-winged blackbirds. It
was on the 17th of July that I saw brown thrushes
for the first time. It is interesting to watch the
movements of the birds as the machine approaches.
The doves in the road fly promptly. They do not
take chances on being struck by the car. The
sparrows wait until the last moment and then
200 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
neatly save themselves. I often wondered how they
could escape with so narrow a margin. We
thought that the red-headed woodpeckers must be
rather clumsy, as we saw a number of them that
had been struck by other cars, and thrown just off
the road.
It was impossible to reach Lincoln that night, so
we stopped at a country inn some miles away. Ris-
ing early, we drove into Lincoln for breakfast.
After a run about the city and a look at the build-
ings of the State University, we drove on toward
Omaha. Unfortunately we attempted to take a
cross-cut and found ourselves in an odd situation.
We were driving down an unfrequented hill road,
in an attempt to cut across to the main road, marked
by white bands on the telephone poles. We sud-
denly found ourselves hanging high and dry above
the ruts of the road. The rain had worn them so
deep and the middle of the road had remained so
hard and dry, that on the hillside we were literally
astride the ridge in the middle of the road. This
meant a long journey on foot to a farmhouse to
borrow a spade and a pick. It also meant much
hacking and digging away at the hard earth under
the body of the machine to release the axles and
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 201
drop the wheels to the road. Finally it was ac-
complished. We picked up the farmer's children
who had come out to see the rescue and drove down
the long hill to the farmhouse. There we left our
implements and our hearty thanks. How hopeless
it seems when one is hung up on the road! And
how blissful it is to bowl along freely once more!
Still the doves flew about us by the hundred and
the brown thrushes increased in number. We had
more level country now, and it was only as we ap-
proached Omaha that it became hilly.
We left Omaha, after looking about the city, late
in the afternoon and drove one hundred and eight
miles to Carroll in Iowa. The first twenty miles
out of Omaha the road was extremely poor and very
dusty. The trees were much more numerous, black
walnut, maple, ash, and catalpa being among them.
Just as we felt that one could find his way across
Nevada by a trail of whiskey bottles so we began
to feel that one could cross Iowa on a trail marked
by dead fowls. I had never before seen so many
chickens killed by motor cars. Perhaps the expla-
nation lay in the fact that all along our one hun-
dred and eight miles from Omaha to Carroll we
passed numbers of farmers driving Ford cars. As
202 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
we approached Carroll, we came to a hill top from
which we looked down on a valley of tasseled corn
fields. It was exactly like looking down on an
immense, shining green rug, with yellow tufts
thrown up over its green surface. We saw but few
orchards. This was a corn country.
Carroll is a pleasant little town, with fine street
lamps, and with a green park around its Court-
house. We were surprised to find so good a hotel
as Burke's Hotel in a small town. Its landlady
and proprietor has recently made extensive im-
provements in it, and it is a place of vantage on the
Highway. The country around Carroll is very fine,
being rolling and beautifully cultivated.
We reached Carroll very late in the day and were
obliged to take our supper at a restaurant near the
hotel. We were interested in a party of four young
people who were evidently out for a good time.
The two young gentlemen, by a liberal use of twen-
ty-five cent pieces, kept the mechanical piano
pounding out music all through their meal. They
were both guiltless of coats and waist-coats. We
had seen all through the West men in all sorts of
public assemblies, more or less formal, wearing only
their shirts and trousers. So we had become some-
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 203
what accustomed to what we called the shirt-waist
habit.
Many customs of the West strike the eye of the
Easterner with astonishment. This custom which
permits men to be at ease in public places and in
the presence of ladies without coat or waist-coat in
hot weather ; the custom which permits ladies to sit
in church without their hats ; these and others which
belong to the free West, the Easterner has to be-
come accustomed to and to take kindly. Several
times in California, and in Nevada, when we asked
a question we received the cheerful, if unconven-
tional response, "You bet !" "Will you please bring
me a glass of water ?" "You bet!" "We're on the
Lincoln Highway, are we not?" "You bet!"
These somewhat startling responses simply indi-
cated a most cheerful spirit and a hearty readiness
to do you any favor possible.
Leaving Carroll, we come on through Ames,
Jefferson, Marshalltown, and Belle Plain, into
Cedar Rapids. Out from Carroll we have rather
bumpy roads for some time. Then the road im-
proves and is excellent from Ames on until we near
Cedar Bapids. But all along work is being done
on the roads and their improvement is a matter of
204 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
I
great local interest. We pass a point in Marshall '
County where they are working with a new machine
for cutting down the road. I call it a dirt-eating
machine. The commissioner is extremely proud of
it, and calls our attention to the immense amount of
work it can do, and to the huge mouthfuls of earth
which it bites out from the bank, through which the !
wider road is to run. We are charmed with the :
lovely country around Marshalltown, and with the
very beautiful country between Belle Plain and
Cedar Rapids. We drive through the campus and
past the buildings of the State Agi'icultural Col- '
lege at Ames as we come into the town.
We are passing beautiful farms. Here we see a ;
group of splendid dappled grey Percheron draught I
horses, the pride of a stock-farm. There we pass |
reddish-yellow shocks of oats. The country is more I
wooded now. We see maples, oaks, ash, willows, '
and black walnuts. Here and there are yellow ^
wild flov/ers, somewhat like black-eyed Susans.
One thing we remark in all these Middle Western
farms. There seem to be almost no flowers around
j
the farm houses. An Enghsh farmhouse or a I
French farmhouse would have a riot of flowers ]
growing all about and making a mass of color. We i
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 205
miss this in our Western farms and wonder why it
is that we see so little color. We see practically no
orchards, and very few grape-vines. This is the
country of wheat and oats. We have left the or-
chards and the vineyards far behind us in lovely
California.
Cedar Rapids is a busy city with several hotels.
Leaving the city on the morning of July 21st, we
drive first through quite heavily wooded country.
Then the view opens out and we are once more driv-
ing over beautiful, undulating country with rich
crops of oats and corn. The perfume of the corn,
standing tall and green, is delicious. When we pass
through Mt. Vernon, we take a look at the build-
ings of Wesleyan College, which stands on a high
ridge commanding a fine view. All the way to
Clinton the country is attractive. After luncheon
at the pleasant town of Clinton, we cross the broad
Mississippi, looking up and down its green shores
with delight. We are in Illinois now, and find Ster-
ling and Dixon attractive towns on the Rock
River, a stream dotted with green islands. The
country is very open, with long stretches of prairie,
green with standing corn or red-yellow with shocks
of oats. We spend the night in De Kalb at a funny
206 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
old hotel, built, they tell us, by Mr. Glidden, the
"barbed-wire king." The hotel is called "The
Glidden." Its ceilings are twenty feet high and we
feel ourselves to be in "a banquet hall deserted."
From De Kalb we make a short detour into Chi-
cago, returning to the Highway at Joliet.
Joliet is a smoky city, full of factories and
busy with the world's work. It is late afternoon
when we reach Joliet, and we drive on to Elkhart,
where we put up at a beautiful hotel with every
modern convenience. The Indiana roads are in ex-
cellent condition and take us through a lovely roll-
ing country of oaks and beech forests, and of fields
of grain breathing pastoral peace and prosperity.
All along through the Middle West we have been
pleased to see the immense interest taken in the Lin-
coln Highway. Everywhere one sees the Lincoln
Highway signs used in abundance on the streets
through which the Highway passes. The telephone
poles, the garages, and sometimes the shops, all are
marked with the familiar red, white, and blue.
They tell us of a Western town whose citizens
were so anxious to have their town on the Highway
that they of their own responsibility painted red,
white, and blue signs on the telephone poles lead-
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 207
ing into and through the town. Later they were
reluctantly obliged to paint out these signs, as the
Highway was not taken through their town.
The names of the farms in the Middle West are
many of them very interesting; as "Rolling Prairie
Farm," "Round Prairie Farm," "Burr Oak Valley
Farm," "Hickory Grove Farm," and "Hill Brook
Farm."
At the entrance to a farm in Illinois a farmer
has nailed a shelf to a telephone pole near his gate,
and on this shelf he has placed a small bust of Lin-
coln. I fancy this is a prophecy of many monu-
ments that we shall see along the Lincoln High-
way in days to come.
We come into Ohio through the pleasant town
of Van Wert, and drive on through fields of corn
and wheat to Lima ; and here we leave the Lincoln
Highway for the present. We are to make a de-
tour into Logan County, and from there we plan
to travel southeast into the Old Dominion.
We spend a number of days in Logan County,
driving about over the hills and through the val-
leys. This, too, is rolling country. I know it well,
for here I spent my childhood. I know these for-
ests of oak and hickory, and these rich fields of corn
208 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
and wheat. I know the dehcious scent of clover
fields in the warm suninier twilights. I recall the
names that my girlhood friend and I used to give
to the farmliouses as we drove about; "The Potato
House," "The Dinner Bell House," "The Little
Red House," and others. They are all there, and
but little changed, although the people who live in
them have probably changed.
We are told by a friend, who is a motor enthu-
siast, that she recently killed a turkey on the road.
In all my motoring experience I have never seen a
turkey, a guinea fowl or a duck, killed by a motor.
But my friend tells me that they found it impossi-
ble to escape this particular turkey, as he refused
to get out of the way.
We passed three little girls one day, all astride
the same horse, driving the cows home from pas-
ture. We asked them to stand while we took their
picture. They were greatly distressed. "We have
on our dirty clothes," said they. "Never mind,"
we said. "But our hair isn't combed!" they ex-
claimed. "Never mind," we said again. "You will
look all right in the picture." And so they do.
The devices and pennants with which motorists
advertise themselves and express their enjoyment
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 209 ;
are very interesting. Some carry pennants with I
the names of the towns or the States from which I
they come. Others carry pennants with the names I
of all the principal towns which they have visited.
Whole clusters of pennants are fastened about the !
car, and float gaily in the wind. Some carry a pen-
nant across the rear of the tonneau, which reads, j
"Excuse my dust." Others carry a pennant in |
the same place which reads, "Thank you." j
We infer that this must be by way of courtesy j
to those cars which turn out for them to pass and fly ]
on ahead. We meet many tourists in the Middle
West who have been for more or less extended tours
in the States near their own. I
210 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
CHAPTER XI
We were sorry to leave the wooded hills and the
green valleys of Logan County and press on to the
southeast. Driving through Delaware, Ohio, we
stopped to see the campus and fine buildings of
Ohio Wesleyan University, and then came on by
way of Columbus to Granville. Leaving Colum-
bus we found the road very wet and heavy from the
recent rains, which had fallen after a drought of
many weeks. We lost our way in coming into
Granville, and had to inquire directions at the house
of a farmer. He was so kindly that we were moved
to express to him a hope that he might some day
have a motor. "Well, I don't begrudge 'em to no-
body even if I can't have one myself," said he cheer-
fully.
We came into the broad main street of Gran-
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 211
ville, the lights shining, the leaves of the maple
trees glistening with the rain which had fallen ear-
lier in the day. If ever there was a New England
town in a Western State, Granville is that town.
It was founded more than a hundred years ago by
Connecticut people, and it bears the impress of its
founders to-day. Its wide street, its old churches,
its white houses with green shutters, its look of com-
fort and cleanliness, all are typically New England.
We had a most comfortable night at the old fash-
ioned Hotel Buxton, and drove up on the hill in
the beautiful clear morning to see the buildings of
Denison University. The University is very finely
situated on a high ridge overlooking the wooded
town, and commanding a fine view of the green
valley beyond. There is a brick terrace on the hill-
side, with an ornamental sundial, where one may
enjoy the rich champaign below. Back of the col-
lege buildings, which look out over the valley, the
hill plunges down into a fine forest of beeches. The
student at Granville has beautiful surroundings for
his years of study. Emerson said that the moun-
tains around an institution should be put in the col-
lege curriculum. Granville students certainly
should include in their curriculum the beauty of
212 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
beech forests and the richness of the Ohio farming
country.
From Granville on to Zanesville the country in-
creases in charm. It is rich and fertile, gently
rolling, diversified by fine beeches and elms. Here
and there are plenteous corn fields. But Ohio farm-
houses do not seem to cultivate more flowers than
do the farmhouses of Iowa and Illinois. Reaching
Zanesville we are greeted by a great sign suspended
across the road above our heads. It reads, "Hello!
Glad you came. Just drive carefully. Zanesville
Motorcycle Club." In leaving we pass under a
similar sign and find that it reads on its reverse side,
"Thank you! Come again. Zanesville Motorcycle
Club." We are on the old National Road now, and
find it rather poor. It is uneven, and is rendered
bumpy by the constant road bars. The country
grows more hilly, and the towns are beginning to
change character. Newark is an attractive little
city, standing rather high. "Old Washington" has
very old red brick houses, and St. Clairsville is an
attractive old town. The towns remind one of the
old Pennsylvania towns. The houses are built flush
with the sidewalk just as one sees them in Pennsyl-
vania. Many of the farmhouses are built of sub-
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 213
stantial red brick, with white porches.
About nine miles from Wheeling, West Virginia,
we come along a fine road to a most beautiful hill-
top view. Prosperous farms and farmhouses are
all about, the farmhouses standing high on the
green, rounded tops of the hills. The National
Iload being under repair, we take a detour in order
to reach Wheeling. A hospitable sign at the en-
trance to our roundabout road to the right reads,
"This road open. Bellaire bids you welcome." We
learn later that there are in this region what are
called Ridge Roads and Valley Roads. We are
entering Bellaire by a Ridge Road, and have fine
views of hilltop farmhouses and barns, and of hill-
top cornfields, all the way. We drop down a steep
hill into Bellaire, turn north to Bridgeport, and
from there turn east across the Ohio River into the
city of Wlieeling.
From Wheeling we drive on into Pennsylvania,
through Washington, a hill city, to Uniontown.
The whole country is hilly and we are constantly
enjoying fine views. Around Uniontown many no-
ble trees are dying. They tell us that this is the lo-
cust year, and that these trees are victims of the
voracious insects. Beyond Uniontown we sweep up
214 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
a long hill, over a splendid road, to the Summit
House. The hotel is closed, so we go on over the
hills to a simpler hotel which is open all the year.
This is the Chalk Hill House, and here we have
true country comfort. For supper we have fried
chicken, fried ham, fried hasty pudding, huckle-
berries, strawberry preserves, real maple syrup, wa-
ter melon rind pickles, cookies, cake, apple sauce,
flannel cakes, and coffee. This is Pennsylvania
hospitality. Chalk Hill is 2100 feet above sea level,
and we have fine mountain air. We learn that
Braddock's troops in their famous march to the
West passed only 500 yards back of where the
Chalk Hill House now stands. We ask our fel-
low travelers at the inn about a very tall monu-
ment which we passed, between Washington and
Uniontown, on a hilltop. It is eighty-five feet
high, and bears the name of McCutcheon. We are
told that Mr. McCutcheon's will directed that all
his money should be spent in the erection of this
monument to his memory. So there it stands.
Our route lies through Cumberland to Hagers-
town, and from Hagerstown through Martinsburg
to Winchester, Virginia. We are crossing the
southwest corner of Pennsylvania, and coming into
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 215
Maryland on the northwest corner ; passing through
a small triangle of West Virginia, and entering
Virginia by the northwest.
Not long after leaving Chalk Hill House we
pass on the left the comparatively new monument
which marks Braddock's grave. A beautiful bronze
tablet on one side of the granite shaft reads: "This
bronze tablet was erected and dedicated to the mem-
ory of Major- General Edward Braddock by the
officers of his old regiment, the Coldstream Guards
of England, October 15th, 1913." Another bronze
tablet has been placed by the Braddock Memorial
Park Association of Fayette Count}^ Pennsylva-
nia. There is also in has relief a bust of Braddock
in military dress. The great seals of the United
States and of Great Britain adorn the shaft. The
main inscription on the shaft reads:
Here lieth the remains of Major- Gen-
eral Edward Braddock who, in command
of the 44th and 48th regiments of Eng-
lish regulars was mortally wounded in an
engagement with the French and Indians
under the command of Captain M. de
Beaujeu at the battle of the Monongahela,
216 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
within ten miles of Fort Duquesne, now
Pittsburg, July 9, 1755.
He was borne back with the retreating
army to the old orchard camp, about one-
fourth of a mile west of this park, where
he died July 13, 1755. Lieutenant Colo-
nel George Washington read the burial
service at the grave.
We are on historic ground all along here. A
little farther down the road we pass a tablet on a
roadside boulder, erected in 1913 by the Great
Crossing Chapter of the Daughters of the Ameri-
can Revolution, to mark the old "Nemacolin's
trail," so named from the Delaware Indian guide
for the Ohio Company. The tablet records that
Washington passed this way in 1753, 1754, and
1755.
On the right of the road we pass a very old farm-
house of red brick, back of which in a swampy
meadow is the site of the camp of Braddock's
forces. We go down the cow lane to see the old
camp, whose outlines are marked.
We are in a region of fine old stone bridges, and
of beautiful orchard country, alternating with roll-
I5
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 217
ing hills covered with heavy forest. At Grants-
ville we pass the old Dorsey House, now called
the Hotel Castleman. This used to be a hostel
much frequented by the farmers. A small boy who
is playing in the street and who is sojourning here
for the summer gives us this information, and adds
that at the Hotel Castleman you have "lots to eat,
and plenty of it." We are sorry that it is not lun-
cheon time so that we could put his statement to the
test. Passing through Grantsville we cross the
old Castleman Bridge, an immense single span of
stone. Another fine old bridge with very solid
buttresses spans Conococheague Creek.
After luncheon in Cumberland, we press east to
Hagerstown. We are advised that we will find the
road far better if we drive east to Hagerstown and
then southwest to Winchester, instead of taking
the direct southeast route to Winchester from Cum-
berland. We have an excellent road from Cum-
berland to Hagerstown, and find the rich orchard
country very beautiful. Ten miles from Cumber-
land, we come upon a point of vantage from which
we have a most lovely view. As we near the town
of Hancock with its famous old inn the country
is still more interesting. We look down on the
218 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
gleaming Potomac, winding through green fields
and beautifully cultivated orchards. This is fa-
mous apple and peach country. Every year more
of the virgin forest on the mountainside is cleared
and planted to young apple and peach trees. The
soil and the climate are most admirably adapted to
the growing of fruit, and there are immense invest-
ments in these beautiful orchards. What a fair,
fair country! After we pass Hancock we look
down on the canal near which our road runs. A
canal boat passes, the mules walking leisurely along
the towpath. A boy stands at the helm looking out
on the beautiful landscape of forest, orchard, and
field. Clothes flap from the clothes-line on the boat.
It is a fine life, we think, this gliding along so se-
curely between green fields and orchards and
clumps of forest.
Hagerstown is a pleasant town in which to spend
the night. We enjoy walking about the streets and
seeing some of the old houses. Even the main
street of Hagerstown still has one fine old stone
house, low and solid, painted yellow. It is the only
residence left on the business street, its owner not
yet having been tempted by its increased value to
sell it.
I. "Moore House" at Yorktown, Va., where terms were drawn up
after the Surrender of Cornwallis. 2. Castleman Bridge, Md.
3. Old Church Tower on Jamestown Island.
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 219
From Hagerstown there are fine shale roads in
our drive south to Winchester. After passing
through old Williamsport we cross the Potomac on
a long bridge. All along these roads the motorist
is annoyed by many toll gates at which he is halted
to pay toll. These are the landmarks of other times
and of old customs. These roads were originally
built and maintained by private companies. They
are fast being bought up by the State, and in a few
years the toll gates will disappear. As we ap-
proach Winchester the country becomes more pros-
perous in appearance than it is around Martins-
burg, West Virginia. Five miles from Winches-
ter we pass two fine old red brick farm houses with
white porches. We are at last in the Old Dominion,
and look forward with high spirits to a tour among
the Virginia towns and cities.
Winchester is a very old town, with a fascina-
tion that grows upon one. It is a simple little place,
with a certain placidity and quiet that are very
soothing. Here is the Winchester Inn with its
wide porches and high ceilings. And here is Mrs.
Nancy Cobles's private boarding-house, whose very
appearance breathes of homelike comfort and
Southern hospitality. The Winchester Inn an-
220 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
nounces that it is "refurnished, refitted, reland-
lorded."
In Winchester is the little old building used as
a surveyor's office by young Washington when
he was working for Lord Fairfax. Here is fine
old Christ Church, endowed by Thomas, Lord Fair-
fax, whose ashes rest underneath the church.
In Winchester I begin to see very interesting
and perfectly clear traces of old Colonial days.
There are quaint old names on the grave stones;
"Judith," "Mary Ann," "Parthenia." Here is the
old English name of Fauntleroy. And here are old
houses with fan-lights over the doors.
It is in Winchester, too, that I begin to sense
the tragedy and awfulness of the Civil War, as
traced by many a sad inscription on many a grave-
stone. Hundreds of Southern dead are sleeping
in the Winchester cemeteries. There are monu-
ments to many unknown dead. "Unknown dead
from Winchester battlefield," "Unknown dead
from Cedar Creek battlefield," and so on. There
are monuments to "the brothers Ashby," and to
"the Patton brothers." How young are the ages
given on many of these stones ! Nineteen, twenty-
three, twenty-nine,
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 221
Our most interesting call in Winchester is upon
a lady who is the owner and manager of a farm of
8000 apple trees, 7000 of which she has set out her-
self within the past five years, "every tree in a
dynamited hole, every tree pruned by a govern-
ment expert." She tells us that all she knows of
apple culture she has learned by a careful study of
government pamphlets. Her orchard is about five
miles from town, and she drives out daily from her
pleasant home . She tells us that her apples are
sent to Jersey City and there kept in cold storage.
Late in the season she sells them, getting sometimes
as high as $7.50 a barrel toward the end of the
winter. As we talk with her we wonder why it is
that more women do not go in for apple culture.
Surely it is a delightful vocation, clean, healthful,
invigorating, and profitable.
Our friend tells us laughingly that so far as her
experience goes, negro servants are "still proving
to their former owners that they are free." She re-
lates an experience with a young negro maid, who
after eight months of happy service with her, during
which time she had the best of training, suddenly
left her. She took a new position just across the
street and for exactly the same wages as her old
222 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
situation had given her. When her former mistress
asked her why it was that she was leaving, she gig-
gled and said demurely, "I mus' do de bes' I kin
fo' myse'f."
From Winchester we drive to Staunton over a
fine road. From the fine country about Winches-
ter, dotted with beautiful orchards, down through
Harrisonburg in the midst of great grain and hay
farms, we are passing through the famous Shenan-
doah Valley. We see it at a disadvantage, for the
months of dry weather have burned the fields brown
and dry and increased the dust of the roads. But
it is beautiful still, a fair and prosperous farming
country. We pass through Harrisonburg on court
day, and the town is filled with farmers who make
of this day a general market day.
As we approach Staunton we come again into
orchard country. We have been passing through
many miles of farms devoted to grain. On the left,
as one enters Staunton, is Chilton Hall, standing
high above the town. Chilton Hall, kept by a wo-
man, is a fine new private house, transformed into
a tourist hostel. It looks most attractive. We go
on into Staunton as we wish to be in the heart of
the town. We establish ourselves very comfortably
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 223
for a few days at "The Shenandoah," also kept by
a woman. Here we have for a very moderate price
a room with a private bath. We enjoy fresh milk
and cream, home-made butter, jams, and jellies,
and all the good things of a hospitable Virginia ta-
ble. We visit the famous Mary Baldwin Seminary,
an exquisitely kept institution. We also see the
Episcopal Church school in its fine old building,
Stuart Hall, and we walk past the Presbyterian
manse where President Wilson was born. We visit
the fine cemetery and read the sad inscriptions on
the head stones. One, erected to a young officer
of thirty years, reads, "Here lies a gallant soldier,"
and adds that he fell fighting "in the great battle
of Manassas." In this cemetery there are 870
Southern dead whose names are given. There are
also about 700 soldiers lying here, "not recorded by
name." The inscription speaks of them as "un-
kno^vn yet well known." There are quaint names
of women on the old stones here, as in Winchester;
"Johanah," and "Edmonia." And there are old
English names; as Barclay, Warwick, Peyton,
Prettyman, Eskridge, and Darrow.
During our stay in Staunton we take a day for a
drive to the Natural Bridge. It is charming coun-
224 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
try through which we drive, growing more broken
and wooded as we go farther south. We find the
road bumpy and dusty, but not at all impracticable.
We have our luncheon with us, and after paying a
somewhat exorbitant fee of one dollar apiece for
entrance to the natural park which includes the
Bridge scenery, we walk along the ravine beside the
little river, to the mighty arch of the Bridge itself.
It is a noble span of rock, of an enormous thickness,
on so grand a scale that it is difficult to realize its
height and width. We have our luncheon beside
the stream in the forest, and drive back to Staun-
ton. The wooded Virginia hills and the fields are
beautiful in the afternoon sunlight.
In returning to Staunton we stop in Lexington
to see the old cemetery where Stonewall Jackson
lies buried, and where his statue looks out from a
terrace over the open country. We also visit the
very beautiful campus of the Washington and
Lee University, and the hilltop situation of the
famous Virginia Military Institute, where another
statue of Jackson stands in commanding position.
Were there time, one could linger for hours on the
University campus and in the old Lexington cem-
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 225
etery. I find a very interesting inscription on a
simple stone, which reads thus:
Samuel Hays. In loving remembrance
for faithful service ; this stone is erected by
the desire of his master. He was loved,
honoured, and trusted, by three genera-
tions.
The buildings of Washington and Lee Univer-
sity are of classic type, and the whole campus with
its fine trees and its many white porticoes gleam-
ing through them, makes an impression that is best
expressed by the old phrase, "classic shades." Some
of our more modern universities impress one by
their very architecture and atmosphere as being
magnificently equipped institutions of business.
Washington and Lee University has the old atmos-
phere of study and of the quiet, ordered life of the
scholar. The Virginia Military Institute is par-
ticularly interesting to the traveler, because of the
vault in its chapel crypt where rest the ashes of the
Lee family. Here are buried Lighthorse Harry
Lee, and his distinguished son General Robert E.
Lee. And here there is a beautiful recumbent
226 ACROSS THE CONTINENT 1
statue of General Lee by Valentine; so realistic;
that the dead man seems to lie before one wrapped j
in marble sleep.
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 227
CHAPTER XII
We are sorry to leave the hospitable "Shenan-
doah" when the time comes to go on to Charlottes-
ville. We drive from Staunton out past the Na-
tional Cemetery which stands on a hill overlookinsf
the valley. We are soon to cross the ridge between
the Shenandoah Valley and the other great valley
known as Piedmont, the crossing point being at
Rock Fish Gap. This is the historic point where
the early settlers first saw and laid claim to the
Shenandoah Valley in the name of the King of
England.
The view from the top of the Gap, which is
reached by a very easy climb, is strikingly beauti-
ful. On one side is the Shenandoah Valley from
which we have just come up, stretching far into the
distance. On the other are the fertile rolling hills,
228 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
and the miles of green orchards, of the Piedmont
section. Here is a view which shows us the smihng,
fruitful Virginia of which we have dreamed. We
descend from the Gap by a very fine new road, and
shortly after we cross a bridge which is in the last
stages, so far as traffic is concerned, of tottering
decay. At each end of the old wooden structure
there is a card posted by the county commissioners
to the effect that they will not be responsible for
the safety of travelers crossing the bridge. It
strikes one as rather incongruous that they should
warn people against using the bridge, save on their
own responsibility, and yet offer no alternative.
Just beyond Yancey Mills we pass an old, old farm-
house at whose gate there hangs an attractive sign,
"THE SIGN OF THE GREEN TEA-POT."
We decide to go in for a cup of tea. It is a charm-
ing little place, kept by a woman of taste and
arranged for parties to sup in passing by, or for a
few people to make a short stay. We admire the
simple, dainty furniture, the home-like little par-
lor, and the attractive dining-room. Everything is
beautifully clean and we sigh that we cannot make
a longer stay. They give us one of the best cups of
tea that we have had in all our long joui^ney. The
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 229
views about the place are charmingly pastoral, and
we feel that with books and walks we could spend
an idyllic fortnight here. Coming into Charlottes-
ville we pass the fine campus of the University of
Virginia.
Now comes a delightful week in old Charlottes-
ville. To begin with, we insure our comfort by
staying at a private boarding house on Jefferson
street, where we have the delicious cooking that
makes the tables of the old State famous. We find
the boarding houses in Virginia to be very pleasant
places indeed. We enjoy our Virginia table neigh-
bors and we enjoy the homely comfort of these
estabhshments. When we do not know the address
of a boarding house we are accustomed, upon enter-
ing a town, to make inquiry at the best looking
drug store. We have found this plan admirable,
and are indebted for some very kindly and prac-
tical advice.
While in Charlottesville we drive about the coun-
try over the red clay roads which are so beautiful
in the midst of the green meadows and orchards.
This is the scenery that is so charmingly described
by Mary Johnston in "Lewis Rand." Charlottes-
ville is in the midst of a famous apple country,
230 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
where are grown most delicious wine saps. All
along in our Virginia travels we have seen evidences
ol a bumper crop of apples. Never have I seen so
many apple trees bowed to the ground with their
rosy crop. Each tree is a bouquet in itself; and a
whole orchard of these trees with their droopmg
sprays of apple-laden branches, many of then:
propped from the ground, is a charming sight. I
wish for the brush of a painter to transfer all this
color and form to an immortal canvas.
On a hill near Charlottesville we have a never-
to-be-forgotten view. Across a Httle valley on an-
other hilltop is Thomas Jefferson's "Monticello,"
or Little Mountain. Just in front lies the town of
Charlottesville upon its many knolls. And on be-
yond, rank on rank, stretch 150 miles of the Blue
Mountains. The hill on which we stand has a bald
top and just below this is a fringe of beautiful
young apple and peach orchards. The trees do well
on these hills. Lower down is the Pantopps or-
chard, which once belonged to the Jefferson estate.
One day we drive, by virtue of an introduction,
to "Edgehill," a fine old estate where lived Martha
Jefferson Randolph, Thomas Jefferson's daughter.
We are only a short distance here from "Castle
1. Conococheague Creek Bridge, Md. 2. "Edgehill," near Charlottes-
ville, Va. Old Home of Martha Jefferson Randolph. 3. "At
the Sign of the Green Teapot," near Yancey Mills, Va.
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 231
Hill," the old home of the Rives family and the
present residence of the Princess Troubetskoy. I
Another day we drive, by a stiff hill road winding ,
through the estate, to "Monticello." The trees on
the lawn of "Monticello" are our special delight, :
as are the views from the hilltop plateau on which \
the house stands. From here Jefferson could see in
the distant trees the tops of the buildings of the !
beloved University which he had founded. No I
wonder that it is on record that Thomas Jefferson |
spent 796 days in all at "Monticello" during his '
two terms as President! In a family cemetery on j
the hillside, not so very far from the hilltop lawn, j
rest the mortal remains of Thomas Jefferson. He
sleeps with the members of his family about him,
and on the plain shaft of Virginia granite are these
words, which were written by Jefferson himself and '
were found among his papers : i
'*Here was Buried i
Thomas Jefferson, ;
Author of the Declaration of American i
Independence,
Of the Statute of Virginia for Religious
Freedom, \
And Father of the University of Virginia." !
232 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
We spend some time at the University of Vir-
ginia, wandering about the campus, and admiring
the old buildings of classic architecture. Every
visitor should stand upon the terrace of the
library, which commands a beautiful view of the
quadrangle, flanked by long lines of professors'
houses with classic white porticoes and enclosed at
its further end by a hall of assembly. On the lawn
of the quadrangle stands a statue of Homer. The
bard is represented as sitting with his lyre in his
hands while at his feet is a youth in the position of
a rapt listener and learner.
As we wish to see as much of Virginia as possi-
ble we drive from Charlottesville to Culpeper, re-
turning from Culpeper to Riclimond. In leaving
Charlottesville we drive past Keswick, a little set-
tlement around which the country has been taken
by many beautiful estates. Our route runs by Gor-
donsville and Orange through Madison Mills to
Culpeper. Not far from Keswick we pass a sign
at an attractive farm gate, which reads, "Clover-
fields. Meals for tourists. Golf." We are sorry
to be unable to test the hospitahty of Cloverfields.
Although our road is more or less indifferent, we
are passing through beautiful country. Around
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 233
Keswick the fields are beautifully kept, and the en-
trances to estates are marked by i\y-coYered posts
of yellow stone, rough hewn. Some of the houses
are red brick with white pillars, others are of stucco.
There are plenty of turkeys and chickens, and
hounds, as everywhere else in Virginia. We begin
to see clumps of pine trees from time to time. The
oak trees of the forest are very large, many of them
of noble height. The juniper trees are in blossom,
their blue-green berries making them look as if they
wore an exquisite blue-green veil. In Virginia, one
is everywhere impressed by the richness and luxur-
iance of the foliage. All along the roadside banks
are clumps of hazel bushes, heavy with clusters of
nuts in their furry green coats. The chestnut trees
are full of fruit. About a mile north of Gordons-
ville we pass a plain shaft of light pinkish-grey
granite on the roadside bank at the left. The name
Waddel is on the shaft and the following inscrip-
tion;
Near this spot while yet primeval forest
stood the church of the blind preacher
James Waddel.
A devout man of God and a faithful
minister of the Presbyterian Church.
234 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
Born 1739— died 1805.
Socrates died like a philosopher, but
Jesus Christ like a God.
From his sermon as narrated by Wil-
liam Wirt.
This country has just the charm that I should
expect it to have from my reading about Virginia.
Here are late-blooming honeysuckles in the hedges.
Here are men drawing wagon loads of produce
along the rather heavy clay highways to market.
Sometimes they drive two horses tandem. The rear
horse is saddled, and the driver rides him and so
guides the team. Sometimes a heavy wagon is
drawn by four horses, the driver astride the near
horse in the rear. Sometimes we see farmers
ploughing with three horses or mules, flocks of tur-
keys or chickens following in the wake of the plough
and picking up the luscious morsels thrown up by
the ploughshare. Sometimes we see fine Hereford
cattle grazing in the fields. Then come the reddest
of red pigs feeding contentedly in big fields of al-
falfa. Once we pass a farmhouse with late-bloom-
ing yellow roses climbing over the stone posts at
the farm entrance. Once we see a man ploughing
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 235
in the fields with a mare, her mule baby running
by her side as she plods along. Near Madison
Mills we cross the Rapidan river, a rushing, yellow
stream. As we near Culpeper the wooded coun-
try opens out into a beautiful grazing region, the
land rising and falling in long undulations. Here
and there in the great fields are clumps of trees giv-
ing a park-like effect to the country. All this is
very beautiful, and one's joy would be undimmed
were it not for the traces of the great conflict of
fifty years ago. We are coming now to the region
of Cedar Mountain which is locally known as
Slaughter Mountain. Here is the site of a bloody
battle. The Confederates were intrenched in a po-
sition of vantage on Cedar Mountain and the Un-
ionists were advancing across the fields and through
the forest into a sort of basin below the mountain.
It is quite easy to understand the heavy slaughter
of the Union troops ; for on both sides of the road,
here and there in the fields, are stones marking the
spots where certain oflicers and certain groups of
men fell. Here is a stone near the road marking
the spot where Colonel Winder of the 72nd Penn-
sylvania fell as he was advancing.
As we see these stones the present peace and
236 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
prosperity of these rolling grass lands is emphasized
by the bloody background of the past.
We stay in Culpeper at the old railway hotel,
"The Waverly." In the morning we drive about
the rich country and are decided in our own minds
that if we wished to come to Virginia for a great
grazing establishment, this is the part of the coun-
try to which we should turn. We hear tales of one
farm where the owner has made seven cuttings of
alfalfa in the course of one year.
We make a hurried trip to the National Ceme-
tery at Culpeper. 12,000 Union soldiers sleep in
this cemetery; and Maine, Massachusetts, New
York, Ohio and Pennsylvania all have monuments
to their dead. The granite pillar of Pennsylvania,
with its bronze tablets, keystone shaped, is particu-
larly fine. The noble inscription begins: "Penn-
sylvania remembers with solemn pride her heroic
dead who here repose in known and unknown
graves."
In leaving Culpeper we retrace our path as far
as Gordonsville, and there turn toward Mechanics-
ville, on our way to Richmond. Again we come
through alternations of open, rolhng, exquisitely
pastoral country and lush forest. Between Cul-
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 237
peper and Madison Mills we notice particularly a
little old red brick church set in the forest trees by
the roadside. A tablet on the building tells us that
this is "Crooked Run Baptist Church. Organized
1777, rebuilt 1910." Crooked Run, a swift, clay-
red creek, hurries along through the forest near the
church.
One thing that interests us in Virginia is the fre-
quency of family cemeteries, quiet plots near the old
farmhouses and mansions. Sometimes they are sur-
rounded by low brick walls, over which the honey-
suckle climbs. Sometimes they are open plots on a
knoll in some field near the house. After we pass
Gordonsville the fine road changes to a compara-
tively poor one and the open country with its park-
like appearance gives way to long stretches of rich
forest. There are many fine oaks and clumps of
green pines. After passing Louisa we are more
than ever in what seems to be back country, lonely
and apparently sparsely settled. We drive over
long stretches of old corduroy road, the planks now
much rotted. Here and there is a comfortable look-
ing negro cabin, and here and there a negro is clear-
ing land. The soil looks very rich and fertile after
it has been opened to the sun. At a somewhat
238 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
lonely point we come upon three little negro boys
and tell them that we wish to take their pictures.
I stand them in a row while T. gets his camera, as-
suring them that each boy is to have two pennies
for standing quietly. They are somewhat awed by
the occasion; and when T. produces a tripod and
begins to pull out its long legs preparatory to get-
ting a high stand for the camera, they are terrified.
The face of the oldest one melts into tears, but we
reassure him and the picture promises to be a suc-
cess. We tell the proud mother of the oldest boy
that we will surely send her a picture and we are
glad to keep our promise later.
Farther on we pass some forlorn looking negroes
in a field, clearing the land. By the roadside sits
the baby, a round little pickaninny in a rustic baby
carriage made of a soap box on wooden wheels.
We stop the car and ask if we may take the baby's
picture. The older man looks very troubled and
saj^s, "I'm afraid not. You see I ain't got any
money. I just got this heah land." We assure
him that we don't want any money and will be
only too happy to send some pictures of the baby
if our photograph turns out well. But he is still
dubious and troubled, and the baby's brother says,
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 239
"The baby's mother ain't heah; we dursent do it
when she ain't heah." Evidently they think that
we mean to involve them in some financial obliga-
tion or to cast some sort of spell over little black
baby, contentedly sucking her thumb. I don't like
to be beaten, but we cannot stay to convince them
that they are mistaken, so we say "Good-bye," and
drive away. From time to time we pass patches of
tobacco, very green and thrifty looking; but there
is much uncleared land and there are long stretches
of lonely country.
We reach Richmond at six o'clock and are so for-
tunate as to have the address of a charming board-
ing house on Franklin Street. Richmond has
some excellent hotels; and she also has some
very attractive pensions. "Where do j^ou come
from?" asks our hospitable hostess, as she shows us
to our big, comfortable room. "From California,"
I respond, and create quite a sensation.
Richmond is worthy of a longer stay than we can
possibly make this time. But we drive for a morn-
ing and enjoy all that we can of the old city. We
go up to Monument Hill and have the fine view
from there, looking down on the winding James
and on the green fields of Chesterfield County and
240 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
Manchester beyond. We drive out to the National
Cemetery where 6573 Union soldiers sleep, 5678 of
them unknown. We go to Church Hill and see old
St. John's Church, where Patrick Henry's pew in
which he made his famous speech is marked with a
brass plate and an inscription. We drive to the
other end of the city and see the new part of Rich-
mond with its wide streets and fine equestrian sta-
tues of General Lee and General Stuart. The old
houses of the town, built of red brick and adorned
with white porches, with pink crape myrtle bloom-
ing luxuriantly in their door yards, are particularly
attractive to us.
But we must leave the old city and drive on fifty
miles to Williamsburg. The road is sandy and
somewhat muddy in shady spots, under the heavy
forest foliage. Nine miles out from Richmond we
pass through the village of Seven Pines, the region
of the bloody battle of Seven Pines. All about are
extensive forests of pine; and on the left, after we
pass through the village, is a National Cemetery
surrounded by a brick wall, just as are those of
Richmond and Culpeper. This is a smaller ceme-
tery, but there are rows and rows of little white
headstones, marking the graves of the fallen.
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 241
We drive for miles through the forest, the fine
trees growing close to the road. There is a special
fascination in driving through open forest. Here
are willow oaks, live oaks, and green, green pines.
Here is a heavy undergrowth of young dogwoods.
And here by the roadside are persimmon trees,
loaded with fruit. Wherever the land is cleared it
is rich and fertile. As we come nearer to the sea
the forest growth is heavier. Here and there are
negroes working in neat little clearings or sitting on
the whitewashed wooden porches of their tiny
cabins.
We are in water-melon country and great wagon-
loads of the fruit are being taken to the nearest
station for export. All along the road we see the
pink and green fragments of discarded fruit. Peo-
ple eat water-melons at this season as we eat
oranges in the North. We can see the remains
of many an open air banquet, by the roadside. We
stop by one wagon-load and I ask a boy who is driv-
ing what a water-melon will cost. "Oh! fifteen
cents." "We don't want such a big one," say I.
"Can't you sell us a smaller one for ten cents?" "I
reckon so." And he picks out a huge watermelon,
and passes it over. As we drive along we cut out
242 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
cubic pieces of the pink delicacy. Never have we
tasted such a water-melon. It has not been wilted
by a long, hot train journey, but has just come
from the field, and is fresh and delicious.
At Williamsburg we stay at the Colonial Inn, a
most pleasant hostel, on old Duke of Glouchester
Street. Williamsburg, known then as Middle
Plantation, was the settlement to which the James-
town settlers moved when they found Jamestown
Island too damp and malarial for permanent occu-
pancy. It is one of the most interesting Colonial
towns in the United States. In Williamsburg I
realize that many of our Virginia forefathers were
Englishmen of the aristocratic class. The coats-of-
arms on the old stones in the cemetery; the quiet
elegance of the old parish church with its hand-
somely draped governor's pew — all the marks of
early days' ceremonial are here. A service in Bru-
ton Parish Church is an experience, and it is also
an experience to see the communion plate of solid
silver and the old prayer-book used in Colonial
days. One can see for one's self the pages in the
prayer-book where "King of kings" has been scored
out and "Ruler of the universe" has been written in
on the margin. In this prayer-book the prayer for
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 243
the king has been pasted over, a prayer for the pres-
ident having been written on the paper covering the
printed prayer. The parish register of the chuich
has many interesting and amusing entries. In one
entry twin slaves have been registered by their
master as "Adam" and "Eve."
Miss Estelle Smith, a lady who lives in a most
interesting old house on Palace Green, knows the
history of Williamsburg thoroughly, and is a very
charming guide. Miss Smith's house, where a few
paying guests find gracious hospitality, is known
as "Audrey House." It was this house that Mary
Johnston used as the setting for her heroine, Aud-
rey. On one window-pane of the "Audrey House"
an unknown hand traced with a diamond long, long
ago these words: "Nov. 23rd, 1796. O fatal day."
On another pane there is a name and the date 1734.
Miss Smith says that no member of her family
knows what the fatal day was, away back in 1796.
No tradition or record of that unhappiness has de-
scended.
In Bruton church yard, I am interested to read
on a family gravestone a special inscription to
"Mammy Sarah, devoted servant of the family who
died aged sixty years."
244 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
The gallery of the old church is known as "Lord
Dunsmore's Gallery." Lord Dunsmore retired
here from the seats of the Burgesses on the floor
below, shortly before the Revolution, not being in
sympathy with their revolutionary attitude. Later
the gallery was assigned to the students of William
and Mary College, and its old railing is covered
with their initials, cut deep into the wood.
One can read fine old names, and very great
names, on the brass tablets which adorn many of
the pews and many wall spaces in Bruton church.
George Washington, Peyton Randolph, Patrick
Henry, and many others. As we read them we
feel that we are in a distinguished and patriotic
company, silent and yet present.
It is pleasant to wander about the old streets of
the village, shaded by gnarled mulberry trees and
fine elms. Masses of pink crape myrtle embower
some of the old houses, and waxen leaved magnolia
trees shade the door yards. At one end of the vil-
lage there is an interesting stone to mark the site
of the old Capitol. We read that "Here Patrick
Henry first kindled the flames of revolution by his
resolutions and speech against the Stamp Act, May
29-30, 1765." "Here June 12, 1776, was adopted
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 245
by the convention the immortal work of George
Mason, the Declaration of Rights and on June 29,
1776 the first written Constitution of a free and
independent State ever framed."
We drive out past the shaded campus of William
and Mary College and over eight miles of sandy
road through the forest, to Jamestown Island. We
cross a rickety rustic bridge over the saltwater
stream which separates the island from the main-
land. Driving across grassy fields we come to the
present church, incorporating the old tower and
surrounding with its brick walls the precious foun-
dations of the early church. The present church is
really a protection for these low, broken founda-
tions which are railed off from the possible vandal-
ism of tourists; and the repository of certain old
tombs and of an ever increasing number of memo-
rial tablets upon its brick walls. One tablet which
pleases me much, reads :
In honour of Chanco
The Christian Indian boy
whose warnings saved
The Colony of Virginia from destruction
In the Massacre of 22 March, 1622.
246 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
Erected by the Society of Colonial
Dames of America in the State of Virginia.
Another interesting tablet reads :
To the glory of God
An in grateful remembrance of
The adventurers in England
and
Ancient Planters of Virginia
Who through evil report and loss of fortune
Through suffering and death
Maintained stout hearts
And laid the foundations of our country.
A fine statue of Captain John Smith stands on
the greensward, near the church, looking out over
the broad waters of the James. The Captain is
represented in the dress of his day, his wide trous-
ers tied with ribbons at the knee, his broad boot
tops falling over in picturesque fashion. On the
monument is a simple inscription, "Captain John
Smith, governor of Virginia, 1608." A graceful
statue of Pocahontas is to stand near that of Cap-
tain Smith, facing the water.
Not far from the church and in an open posi-
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 247
tion stands the tall, fine granite shaft which com-
memorates the first settlement. Its main inscrip-
tion reads:
Jamestown
The first permanent colony
of the English people
The birthplace of Virginia
And of the United States
May 13, 1607.
Jamestown Island contains 1600 acres, and is
some three miles long. It is owned by Mrs. Bar-
ney, who lives upon it and who conducts a farm
on part of its acres. She and her husband gen-
erously gave the portion of the island containing
the church yard to the Society for the Preserva-
tion of the Antiquities of Virginia. It is less than
fifteen years since the restoration and care of the
old Jamestown settlement site has been under-
taken. Before that the graveyard was neglected
and overgrown, the foundations of the old church
were falling to pieces, and the whole place was
utterly forlorn and forsaken.
From Williamsburg we drive on to Yorktown,
now a small village. One short street, a few old
248 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
houses, a shop and a Httle inn or two are all that
remain of Yorktown. No railroad reaches it, and
it is therefore rather inaccessible to tourists. The
village is most nobly situated on a high bluff over-
looking the broad waters of the York River, which
stretch away like a great bay. The Yorktown mon-
ument, quite as fine and imposing a shaft as the
Jamestown one, stands high on the river bank in a
striking and dramatic situation. We hear a pretty
story of how the President of the United States
came down with a party of gentlemen some months
ago and walked about the village. No one recog-
nized him save a young girl of fourteen who volun-
teered her services as a guide, took the party about
and explained to them the points of interest. They
remained with her nearly two hours. At the end
of this time when they were bidding her farewell,
she said, nodding to the President, "You are Pres-
ident Wilson, are you not?" We drive out from
the village to an old farmhouse known as the
"Moore House," where terms of capitulation were
drawn up after the surrender of Lord Cornwallis.
We go into the room where the terms were made,
and feel that we are really in the birthplace of our
great nation.
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 249
From Yorktown we cross by ferry to Glouces-
ter County, for we purpose to see something of the
famous section known as Tidewater Virginia. As
Tidewater on Chesapeake Bay is a region where
creeks and inlets make a thousand indentations in
the coast, the ideal way to see it all would be by
motor boat. But our purpose is to drive along the
sandy roads and through the forests of Gloucester
County for some thirty miles, until we reach the
region of Mob jack Bay. As we drive along we
pass many negroes, respectable looking people in
comfortable buggies and light open wagons. Some
are driving mules, and others have very good horses.
We find that we must drive slowly, as many of the
animals are afraid of our car. We pass old Abing-
don Parish Church, and stop to read the names on
the tombs with the coats-of-arms in the church yard.
A little farther on we turn down a long lane and
drive for a mile and a half through fields and trees.
Then we come through a gate on to the green lawn
of "Newstead," an old estate where they are good
enough to take a few paying guests. Sheep and
turkeys walk calmly about on the grass under the
shade of noble oak trees. Before us are the blue
waters of the Bay. We are on that particular arm
250 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
of Mob jack Bay known as the North River. Here
is the enchanting region of which Thomas Dixon
Jr., wrote some twelve years ago when he described
his own home in a book called "The Life Worth
Living." A long motor boat ride convinces us tliat
Mr. Dixon's descriptions are not exaggerated.
All along the river (which is really an arm of Ches-
apeake Bay) stand pleasant homes surrounded by
green lawns and shaded by fine trees. It is so shel-
tered here that one has the advantages of the real
country, as well as of the real sea.
The chestnut oak, the magnolia, the willow oak,
the crape myrtle, the fig and the grape all flourish
luxuriantly. The grass is thick and green ; and yet
sail boats and motor boats ride at anchor at private
piers and your man can dredge your own oysters
from your own oyster-bed just in front of your
grass and flowers. The estate of which Mr. Dixon
wrote so delightfully is only ten minutes by motor
boat from "Newstead."
A mild climate, rich vegetation, fertile soil, birds
and flowers and fruits, the best eating in the world,
what more does Virginia need to make her a para-
dise on land and by sea? Only good roads, and
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 251
then the motorist will enjoy her rare charms as
they have never yet been enjoyed.
We retrace our journey through the thick woods,
past fine oaks and beeches to the Yorktown ferry.
Crossing again to Yorktown we drive on to Old
Point Comfort, taking a little time to visit the ex-
tensive buildings of the famous Hampton Institute.
At Old Point Comfort we take the boat for Cape
Charles City. It is our plan to drive straight up
the JMaryland Peninsula, having first spent the
night in a comfortable little hotel at Cape Charles
City.
It is a lovely September morning, clear and
bright, as we drive north along bumpy roads,
through beautiful forests of pine and oak. We are
in Accomac County, Virginia, on the southern end
of what is called the Delaware-Maryland- Virginia
Peninsula. This seems to be a lonely country
through which we are driving, somewhat sparsely
settled. And yet between Cape Charles City and
Pocomoke City there are twenty-seven prosperous
banks, they tell us. And here in Accomac County
is harvested ^ve per cent, of the entire sweet potato
crop of the United States. The climatic condi-
252 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
tions for fruits and vegetables are almost perfect
on this peninsula, and the soil is extremely fertile.
All this country is destined to be an immense pe-
ninsula garden. As we drive along we see great
heaps of yellow sweet potatoes waiting to be packed
away in barrels. We see long rows of baskets filled
with scarlet tomatoes, stretching down the fields,
alongside the denuded tomato plants. What glo-
rious color it is! I should like to come here and
paint a tomato field just after the fruit has been
picked, the whole field marked by lines of color.
First a row of green tomato plants, somewhat grey
and dusty in the bright sun; then a row of baskets
of scarlet fruit glowing in the sunshine; then a
stretch of brown earth. Then another row of the
grey-green plants and another row of baskets piled
high with scarlet fruit ; and so on across many acres
of browns and greens and scarlets. We pass im-
mense wagon-loads of tomatoes being hauled to the
canneries and to the station. The fruit is placed
in the wagon in double decker fashion; the first
platform of baskets being surmounted by a second
platform upon which the second rows of baskets
rest. The wagons are drawn by sturdy mules,
sometimes four strong. At Pocomoke City we have
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 253
an excellent luncheon at the little hotel. We have
crossed the Maryland boundary, and our route is
to lead us through Princess Ann and Salisbury off
to the northeast to Easton. The country is less
heavily wooded now, but the soil is of the same fer-
tile quality, and the cultivated fields are beautiful
to see. We are driving along the famous Eastern
Shore, where many people have their country seats.
The towns through which we are passing, from
Cape Charles City clear along the peninsula, show
their age. They belong to the days of early settle-
ment.
At Easton we take a day or two to drive about
the open country and see the charming country
estates, the houses standing on the shores of creeks
and inlets, and having the double charm of the coun-
try and the sea, just as they do in Tidewater Vir-
ginia. We drive out to "The Wilderness," the home
of a Pittsburg gentleman. One approaches the old
brick house through a long avenue of trees. The
house faces on a green lawn which slopes to the
waters of a broad stream, with glimpses in the dis-
tances of a wide bay. About the house there are
broad fields with rich, fertile soil capable of high
cultivation. Fine roads run all through the coun-
254 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
tryside and there are charming places on the creeks
and inlets, each commanding a beautiful water view.
You may take your launch in the late afternoon if
you are weary, and run about in sheltered water
vv^ays commanding fine views of pretty homes set in
lovel}^ lawns and trees. Or you may take a sail,
venturing out from a small inlet to a wider bay,
and so on into the great open water of the Chesa-
peake.
I know a green lawn on a certain inlet, shaded
by luxuriant oak trees, where the sound of bells
comes across the water from the village spires of an
historic old village. The family boat is just be-
hind the house, rocking gently on the waters of a
little stream, which runs up from the larger stream
into the mainland. The situation is ideal.
We drive about Talbot County and on into Prin-
cess Ann County. Everywhere we find the same
fertile, level fields, the same water ways with their
lovely glimpses of broader water beyond. Wliere
could one wish for a better luncheon than the one
served us at an unpretentious little inn called
Queen Cottage, in the old village of Queenstown?
Delicious oyster soup, the oysters just out of the
water, an omelet that would have done justice to a
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 255
French chef, candied sweet potatoes cooked as only
a Southern cook knows how, fresh peas, hot bis-
cuits, excellent coffee, and the pink heart of a cool,
unwilted watermelon ; and all for a most reasonable
sum. Queen Cottage would be a sweet spot in
which to spend a little time of retreat, bountifully
fed and free to wander about quiet streets and fer-
tile open country.
We pass, in driving about, the largest oak tree in
the county, standing in the door yard of a country
place, and carefully preserved and watched over.
Perhaps I should say watched under, as it is an im-
mense green tent of huge spreading branches, each
one a tree in itself in its girth and diameter.
From Easton we drive north and northwest to
Wilmington over fine roads. The State of Mary-
land is improving her roads and will in a few years
have highways that will be among the finest in the
country, while her scenery is that of a smiling coun-
try becoming more and more cultivated. On from
Wilmington to Philadelphia and from Philadelphia
out to Byrn Mawr ; and from the parked and shaded
beauty of Byrn Mawr over the rolling farming
country of Pennsjdvania with its beautiful culti-
vation and its substantial stone farmhouses, up
256 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
through Trenton and Newark and across the ferry-
to New York. We are once more on the Lincoln
Highway as we travel northeast from Philadelphia.
It is a joy to travel again by the familiar red, white,
and blue signs. We know the pleasant open coun-
try of New Jersey through which the noble High-
way runs for these last miles, and are at last At
Home.
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 257
CHAPTER XIII
The Lincoln Highway is destined to be a much-
traveled road. Already the motorists of the West
are turning the hoods of their motor cars to face
the East and the motorists of the East are starting
Westward. Happy is the man who has his hotel or
inn situated on the road marked by the red, white,
and blue. The traveler is bound to come his way,
and the traveler is bound to alight at his door if
only he has something to offer that is worthy of
the name of hospitality. But he can no longer
afford to be careless. There is an unwritten rule
of the open road which reads that the traveler shall
tell his fellow traveler of places at which to halt and
of places to avoid. It is inevitable that in the course
of a short time the slovenly and careless inn-keeper
must be supplanted by a better man.
258 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
The tourist does not enjoy looking out of his
hotel window on piles of old tin cans and heaps of
barrel staves and discarded packing boxes. Nor
does he enjoy looking at mounds of ashes, and
quantities of vegetable parings. He will not long
endure a soiled table cloth, horrible green tea, and
indifferently cooked food. Nor will he endure a
lack of hot water and utterly careless sanitary ar-
rangements. He may say little about them to the
landlord who entertains his party, but he will very
soon see to it that better inns take the place of the
old ones of careless and indifferent management.
The hotel keeper congratulates himself that his
open door looks out on the Lincoln Highway, and
that his own sign proudly bears the three distin-
guishing bars of red, white, and blue. He must have
more than this to make his inn a success. It is sur-
prising how fast the news of a clean, well kept inn,
with excellently cooked food, travels from mouth
to mouth.
In France there is a roll of honour for inn-keep-
ers under the direction, if I mistake not, of the
Touring Club of France. Only those inn-keepers
whose houses and whose tables attain a certain
standard, not of style but of simple cleanliness and
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 259
of wholesome excellence of food, are admitted to
this company. I have seen the certificate of the
roll of honour hanging on the walls of more than
one country inn in France.
It is to the credit of the many places in which
we halted for the night that in only one did we find
conditions impossible. We slept in a rather indif-
ferent bed-chamber, having reached the inn late.
But when we saw the dining-room the following
morning, we paid our bill and fled; driving on
twenty miles farther for a late breakfast. Surely
the average commercial man of the United States
who travels in country districts year in and year
out must have a charmed digestion and an iron-clad
constitution. He may well rejoice that the days
of motoring have come, for with the motorist is
coming not only the broad Highway, but the clean
and comfortable inn. Not necessarily the fash-
ionable hotel, with its expensive and extravagant
accessories ; but the clean, immaculately kept coun-
try inn, with its excellent cooking of the abundant
food in which our country is so rich. Perhaps we
shall need to import some Swiss inn-keeper to tell
us how to do it. Whether we do or do not, the man
who knows how and the man who is willing to live
260 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
up to his knowledge will inevitably displace the inn-
keeper who is careless and indifferent. The big-
gest bid for a motor tourist is a clean bed-chamber,
a comfortable bed, and a well cooked though simple
dinner.
If I were crossing the Lincoln Highway again I
should take with me a spirit lamp, a little sauce pan,
some boxes of biscuits, some excellent tea, some co-
coa and other supplies. Not that this is a necessity.
But it would be very pleasant to have a luncheon
or a cup of afternoon tea al fresco, now and then.
For our own comfort and convenience we laid
down for ourselves certain rules of the road.
First : We did not wear our good clothes. The
long, dusty journeys are very hard upon clothing,
and for a lady a comfortable light weight tweed
suit with plenty of washable blouses with rolling
collars, covered by an ample motor coat, gives the
greatest comfort and satisfaction. The dust of the
plains is ground into one's clothing and one should
be ready for this. The requirements of the hotels
along the road are very simple, and a fresh blouse
will usually be all that is needed. We took care to
use only such dust robes to cover our luggage as
could not be injured by the wear and tear of the
BY THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 261
journey. We did not take with us our best rugs
and robes.
Second : We did not travel by night. We found
it very delightful to travel in the late afternoon,
when the lights were particularly fine, but we
avoided as much as possible traveling late into the
evening. In this way one does not miss the scenery
of the country, and one is not over fatigued. We
found that when we were obhged to arrive late at
our inn, it was wiser to eat supper at the proper
supper hour wherever that might find us.
Third: We did not as a rule travel on Sunday.
Partly because we wished to attend church in what-
ever town we might be, partly because we found
ourselves fresher for enjoyment and sight-seeing
after the rest and quiet of a day.
Fourth: We resolved at the outset to take the
days and the roads as they came; not looking for
luxury and well satified with simplicity. It is sur-
prising how one is fortified for the vicissitudes of
the road by such a dehberate attitude of mind.
The Lincoln Highway is not as yet a road for
those motorists who wish only luxurious hotels, fre-
quent stops, and all the cushioned comfort of the
much-traveled main roads of the favorite tourist
262 ACROSS THE CONTINENT
parts of Europe. It is, however, perfectly practi-
cable in its entire length of 3200 miles, and rich in
interest and charm for those who care for what it
has to give.
We drove a Studebaker car as far as Denver and
a Franklin car from Denver to New York. In all
the distance traversed we were not conscious of
braving any dangers or of taking any particular
risks.
The End.
r^