THE COLORADO DESERT. 385 



worst aspect, and I purpose trying to give others an account of its 

 most interesting features. 



The desert occupies almost the whole of the large county of San 

 Diego. It is some one hundred and fifty miles long and fifty miles 

 wide, and the Southern Pacific Railroad runs through the center of it. 

 About sixty miles from Los Angeles, the railroad encounters a very 

 heavy grade, one hundred to one hundred and ten feet to the mile, 

 and it continues for twenty-two miles. At the summit, known as San 

 Gorgonio Pass, begins the descent into the desert, and every mile 

 brings you to a more desolate country. At Whitewater Station, 

 twenty miles from the summit, the desert commences in earnest. 

 First a few flowers enliven the scene. Large Oenotheras, three or 

 four inches in diameter, grow on small stalks five or six inches high. 

 Large plants of Abrouia maritima, with clusters of brilliant purple 

 flowers, spread over the ground. A little Gilia ( G. Lemmoni), with 

 white corolla and yellow center, adds its beauty to the scene ; and the 

 only shrub, Larre~a Mexicana, or creosote-plant, with yellow flowers 

 and sticky leaves and branches, reminds you of the forests you have 

 left behind. 



During the seven miles to the next station, known as Seven Palms, 

 the vegetation gradually thins out. As we progress beyond, the flow- 

 ers disappear, and cacti predominate, and farther on these are replaced 

 by the stunted grease-wood. Finally, even this vanishes, and when 

 Dos Palmas is reached we have come to a country where there is ab- 

 solutely nothing in the shape of vegetation. Every one knows how a 

 well-kept field looks when .it has been plowed, and harrowed, and cul- 

 tivated until not a stick, nor a stone, nor a weed shows itself above- 

 ground. Well, in order to form a picture of this part of the Colo- 

 rado Desert, imagine a field such as this extending for miles and 

 miles, level as a floor, with no signs of life visible, and no indica- 

 tion of man's presence save the railroad-track and the telegraph-poles. 

 Imagine the ground covered with an incrustation of alkali, which, 

 when stepped on, breaks, and lets one sink ankle-deep into soil as 

 soft and fine as powder. Picture to yourself a gale of wind blowing 

 over the waste, the air filled with fine particles of sand, the sun ob- 

 scured, and no objects visible one hundred feet away, and you will 

 have formed a faint idea of the worst aspect of the desert. 



But it is hard to imagine anything so fearful as the reality, and 

 unless one can see the ground, and feel the sand, and experience a 

 heat of 120 in the sun, one can have only a poor conception of the 

 desert. Every one knows the efficacy of the sand-blast. In no place 

 in the world can its effects be better seen than on this desert. The 

 telegraph-poles are polished on one side as smooth as glass. The 

 white paint on the sign-posts is worn off as clean as if scraped and 

 rubbed with sand-paper. Many of the ties, and the timbers of small 

 bridges and culverts along the railroad, look as if some industrious 

 vol. xx. 25 



