in its tortuous course, all the streams which in Eddy's State map, and thus the name flow from the south or south-east. The has become established. deep blue of the waters indicates a considerable depth to the lake. The water is perfectly fresh. The lake well stocked with salmon trout. It is resorted to at certain seasons by the neighboring Indians for fishing. Although lying so near the main road of travel, little has been known of this lake until quite a recent period. There is no doubt but that it is the lake of which the Indians informed Col. Fremont when encamped at Pyramid Lake, at the mouth of the Salmon Trout, or Truckee river, and which he thus relates, under date of January 15, 1844: "They made on the ground a drawing of the river, which they represented as issuing from another lake in the mountains, three or four days distant, in a direction a little west of south; beyond which they drew a mountain, and farther still two rivers, on one of which they told us that people like ourselves traveled." How clear does this description read to us, now that we know the localities! Afterwards, when crossing the mountains near Carson Pass, Col. Fremont caught sight of this lake, but deceived by the great altitude of the mountains to its east, and the apparent gap in the western ridge at the Johnson Pass, he laid it down as being on the California side of the mountains, at the head of the south fork of the American river. In the map attached to Col. Fremont's report, it is there called Mountain Lake, but in the general map of he explorations by Charles Preuss it is named Lake Bompland. In Wilkes' map and others, published about the period of the gold discovery, it bears the former name. When Col. Johnson laid out his road across the mountains, the lake was passed unnoticed except under the general term of Lake Valley. General Wynn's Indian expedition, or the emigrant relief train, first named it Lake Bigler, after our late Governor. Under this name it was first depicted in its transmountain position There is no lake in California, which for beauty and variety of scenery, is to be compared to Bigler Lake; but it is not its beauty of situation alone that will attract us there. A geological interest is fastening upon it, for there we see what so many other of the great valleys of the Sierra once were. The little stream of the Upper Truckee, though but of yesterday, has yet carried down its sandy deposits through ages sufficient to form the five miles of valley flats, from the foot of the Johnson Pass to the present margin of the lake, and still the work progresses. The shallows at the mouth of the river are stretching across towards the first point on the eastern slope of the lake, and at the same time the water level of the lake is evidently subsiding. The point of view from where our illustration is taken is the summit of the gran ite knob to the south of the lake, one of the triangulation points of our survey. The point at which the Upper Truckee dis charges into the lake is indicated by the smoke of our camp fires. The first depression in the mountains to our right is the Daggett Pass to Carson Valley; beyond the next group of mountains lies the old pass of the Johnson wagon road to Eagle Valley. Nearly opposite, under a rocky point on the east shore of the lake, is the celebrated Indian cave, with its legendary romance. On the north rises the lofty mountain of Wassan peak. From the western side, the Truckee river finds its outlet, but the exact position seems to be still a myth. The high peaks to the northwest, in the distance, are near the Truckee Pass. But our poor attempt of the pencil can give but a faint idea of the beauty of the spot; we can only hope to recall to those, whose eye has already beheld the scene, what must ever be, one of memory's most pleasing pictures; while in those who have not yet seen it we hope to induce a A gentleman writing from Halley's Ranch sends us the following interesting descrip tion of another of those beautiful mountain sheets of water: As I have never seen any account published of Salmon Lake, I have concluded to give you a sketch of the locality and beauty of the silvery waters and surrounding scenery of this beautiful spot. This lake is situated about forty miles north-east of the city of Nevada, between the heads of the south and middle forks of the Yuba river, but nearest to the south fork. Its waters fall into a stream flowing into Cañon Creek, about ten miles from the mouth of the latter stream. This lake is about one mile in length, by half a mile in breadth. In many places it is from sixty to seventy feet in depth, at its lowest ebb; which is in October; when about one hundred and fifty inches of water escape. "On the north side of this lake rise precipitous and overhanging cliffs, to the height of three hundred feet, in which there are many holes, or caves, entirely inaccessible, except to wild fowl-of which there are many-that make their nests and raise their young in them, and in the cracks of the rock. Upon the top of this stands a dense forest of spruce-fir trees. There is a cove in this picturesque woodland from which snow can be obtained at any time in the year. Cinnamon and grizzly bears are numerous here. "On the east and west ends of the lake there are beautiful valleys well irrigated with springs, and covered with grass in abundance; and upon which many thousands of wild ducks and geese feed every season. "At the south side of the lake, through a lough about three hundred yards from it, is found its outlet; and where it makes into a deep cañon. This whole piece of nature's mighty and beautiful work can easily be transformed from a picturesque lake to a valuable RESERVOIR-without marring its lovelinessby cutting a tunnel three hundred yards in length, at a cost not exceeding ten thousand dollars, and from which a ditch could be constructed that would give an abundance of water to the dry mining camps below. L. A. G." We wonder that these large and natural reservoirs, which are capable of giving water to every mining district of the State, in very great abundance, should remain untouched, when miners and mining, trabusiness is almost at a stand, comparders and trading, and every description of atively, for the want of water. We are led to exclaim, with regret and surprise, in the language of one of old, "How long, ye simple ones, love ye your simplicity!— and fools [!] hate knowledge?" will A DESULTORY POEM. BY W. H. D. "California, of all places in the world, needs a bold and independent expression of opinion!" CANTO I. Could I disclose the mysteries of my life, But memory fails me, and 'tis wrong to tear III. And if I write, 'tis but to make the hour, But what shall be the burden of my song? V. On these and other subjects I may dwell, VI. Dear reader, understand me, I have not A flight to take in which there's much obstruction, VII. Have patience with me, and I'll soon commence Above all other traits, I like decision In character, which must proceed from thought, IX. I still am writing on in rigmarole; XIII. oft have heard their witless nonsense rattle No wonder that its neophytes go crazy; XV. This sect has surely some most cunning leaders, XVI. I should not waste my words upon this theme; An easy style, in which plain thoughts may flow, A subject that with tongs I ought to handle, The heavens above, where myriad worlds now roll Unless they're gifted with clairvoyant vision, X. At last my Pegasus begins to soar Where suns and stars in glorious anthems pour Of Boundless Wisdom, which may yet restore Our souls to bliss- I will not farther shove My metaphor into that future state, Where no man knoweth what may be his fate. XI. Except disciples of that sect new-fangled, XII. And then to hear their wondrous revelations, So foul and filthy, that, like pitch, I seem And now my Pegasus I must dismount, XVIII. I hope to mount him at some future day, XIX. I've rode out nineteen stanzas at this heat. LOST. BY MARY MORRIS KIRKE. "Mary Kirke, we're lost!" A strange whispering echo from the hill side answered back, "Lost! lost!" and from the clear little stream which glided along at our feet seemed to come a murmering "Lost! lost!" have a day of it alone in the free woods. Bell, who had not spent five years of her life in the wilds of Iowa in vain, declared she was just the best guide in the world, and would take all possible care of my more inexperienced self. So arming curselves each with a formidable revolver, and a satchel containing a lunch, we gaily waved adieu to the anxious inmates of the ranch, and rode gallantly away on our We looked at each other-Bell and I reckless, adventure-seeking expedition. for several moments after this announcement without speaking. The unwelcome enviction had been, for the last hour, forcing itself upon our minds, yet neither could gather courage to speak the startling truth, but gaily chatting, endeavoring to conceal the anxiety each felt, we still kept on, and on, vainly searching for the path from which we had strayed, until the sun had almost gone down behind the hills, and the great pine trees began to throw dark shadows on the ground-aye, into our hearts too. Yet we spoke no word of fear until Bell, suddenly reining in her horse, hastily, and with pale lips, exclaimed, "Mary Kirke, we're lost !" The morning was delightfully passed. We shouted, sang, leaped our horses over rocks and crags, explored deep ravines, stopped for a moment to gather some rare wild flowers, and then sped on again. Oh! it was glorious, dashing away, away over hill and vale, as light and free as air; it was life, in its highest enjoyment. Yes, we were lost among the wild hills of California! The fact could no longer be denied, unpleasant as it was. Bell Grant and I had been for the last three weeks at the ranch of our friend G. B., which was situated in one of the wildest, most picturesque parts of but we had become tired of the monotony of that pleasant, but lonely home; tired of looking at the calm, amiable face of Mrs. R.; tired of listening to the voice of Mr. R., merry as it was, and we determined to have a change in the dull routine of every day affairs. Early that morning, notwithstanding the remonstrances of our friends, we mounted our horses and set off alone-not, as old stories say, "to seek our fortunes"-but solely in search of adventure. We would not listen to the earnest request of our host to take little Nee-to, an Indian boy, for a guide-no, indeed! not we. We would After we had partaken of our noonday meal in a beautiful little valley, drank from the cool mountain stream, and indulged in not a few bright day-dreams in that secluded retreat, we began to think of retracing our steps homeward. Accordingly we remounted our horses, and took, as we supposed, the same path by which we had descended into the valley. We rode on carelessly for some time, until, failing to perceive any objects which had served as land-marks in our way hither, a sort of vague uneasiness sprang up within our minds, which increased the farther we proceeded, but which we endeavored carefully to conceal, until, suddenly emerging from the thick growth of pines, we found ourselves upon the banks of a narrow stream, with a steep hill rising abruptly on the opposite side. Behind us lay the rapidly darkening forest, into which we peered doubtfully, fearing to trust ourselves within its shadowy depths; before us rose the rugged hill-side; on either hand were piled huge rocks, and on all sides we seemed shut completely in, without the possibility of egress. Bell was a stout-hearted girl, but braver hearts than hers might have been appalled at the situation in which we found ourselves; alone, in one of the wild est spots imaginable, with night rapidly approaching; how far from home, or any human habitation we knew not, but not a trace of civilization could we discover. Regrets for our rashness in venturing out alone were of no avail. Long we stood there, eagerly straining our eyes and ears to catch, if possible, some sight or sound to guide us, but in vain. The silence was oppressive, painful, and we longed for something to break the deep stillness. It came, startling, strange, unearthly! It was a woman's voice, that thrilled our hearts and rang out clear and distinct upon the evening air, in one wild burst of song. "Oh! where shall rest be found Rest for the weary soul "Twere vain the ocean's depths to sound, We listened with hushed breath, and wondering minds, until the music died away on the air. The voice was one of exquisite sweetness; the words were spoken with such intense earnestness, they seemed to come quivering, trembling, from a weary, aching heart, longing for rest; rest, such as earth can never give. But what could it mean, that voice, in such a strange, wild place, and it seemed so near too-at our very side. We listened again, but all was still. "Let us go," said Bell, "and solve the mystery." Accordingly, without another word, we proceeded in the direction of the sound. After following the little stream a short distance, it suddenly took a course to the right, and there, almost hidden by overhanging trees and shrubbery, was a little cabin, which one might easily have passed unnoticed, it nestled there so like a bird's nest among the thickly clustering vines and shrubs. The window and door were open; we dismounted and silently entered the cabin. Deep silence reigned within, and, but for a languid unclosing of the eyes of the occupant of the room as we entered, we might have supposed her dead. She was very pale and emaciated, but traces of great beauty yet lingered upon the wan face; and every feature was delicately formed and beautiful. She was sitting in a large arm-chair, the only article of luxury in the room, and as we approached, she seemed hardly conscious of our presence, merely unclosing her eye for a moment, then sank back languidly upon the cushions. At this moment a sweet childish voice sobbed out, "Mamma, mamma; and we beheld for the first time, a little figure crouched on the floor, half buried in the dress of the invalid. That voice seemed to rouse the mother; and passing her hand caressingly over the head of the child, she burst into tears. Then her lips moved in prayer, and she exclaimed, turning to us: "Oh! I knew God would not forsake me, or leave my darling alone. 1 know not who you are, but you are women, and have women's hearts. Surely God has sent you to me in this, my last hour, that I may give into your keeping my poor little Nannie. Say, will you accept the trust? Will you take the lone orphan the child of one you know not to your bosom? Oh! I know you will! I know you will! I see it in those kind, pitying looks; I see it in those tears! God will reward you; and if a mother's prayer can avail on high, you shall be blessed indeed!" We each took one of the pale hands of the sufferer, and promised before Heaven that the stranger's child should be as our own. Oh! the glorious light that came over that mother's face as she heard those words spoken! Earth, and all earthly cares now seemed forever left behind: peaceful, calm, happy, while the voice. faintly murmured, "Ready, waiting: 'Cease, fond nature, cease thy strife, Let me languish into life.'" Her hand fell feebly upon her breast, her breath came slowly, softly through the parted lips; upon that broad, white forehead the dews of death were gathering, but the eye burned with an unearthly brilliancy, and a bright halo of glory encircled that head. From the Heaven above, which |