34 



FORESTRY AND IRRIGATION 



January 



the post-office was established and 

 named Norwood. The first reservoir 

 was constructed in 1889. 



In 1891 a spinster school-ma'am, 

 like the one in "The Virginian," rode 

 up into this broad and breezy country. 

 It rained as she came. The landscape 

 looked gray, and so did the cabins. 

 The mud was very deep, and the peo- 

 ple seemed to have been wading in it. 

 Out of the loneliness of her heart, she 

 wrote back to Denver : "I have passed 

 the portal of oblivion, and entered the 

 land of nowhere." 



In 1901 she came again. Rain, as 

 ever, greeted her ascent of the hill ; 

 and the picture in her mind was of a 

 gray tone. But she had not reckoned 

 on the magic of industry. Dirt-roofed 

 cabins had disappeared. In their places 

 rose handsome, commodious houses. 

 Field after field was fenced, sage- 

 brush was replaced by alfalfa, and 



groves of transplanted trees surround- 

 ed the homes. 



If she comes again in 191 1, she will 

 doubtless ride up the hill in a trolley 

 car. Electric lights will twinkle in a 

 fair-sized, prosperous town, and tele- 

 phones will connect all the ranches. 



Should she climb The Cone, she will 

 see more of those seemingly tiny pools 

 of water; for a third reservoir is al- 

 ready begun ; and a fourth, the largest 



of all, is under survey. 



The cattle will be fewer, but with- 

 out horns and of finer blood. The cow- 

 boy's manner and dress will have be- 

 come cosmopolitan. 



But the beautiful Tone Cone, like 

 the Blue Alsatian Mountains of long 

 ago, will continue to look down with 

 a serene, steadfast gaze, smiling to 

 think of the futility of these efiforts of 

 man, should he only withhold his sin- 

 gle but omnipotent gift. 



THE OREGON SIERRA 



Sierra Madre, mother peaks, 

 That keep companion with the sun! 

 Sierra de Nevada, streaks 

 Of snow and sun inwound as one — 

 Ye be but babes! Behold, behold 

 My peaks of snow and sun and gold 

 That gild the crimson, cobalt dawn; 

 That ward the em'rald Oregon; 

 That lift to God, in changeless white 

 Above the bastion walls of night — 

 Inspiring more to look upon 

 That golden dolphins of Nippon. 



What shapely pyramids of snow. 

 Set here, set there, set anywhere; 

 White as white flocks that feed below; 

 As if old Egypt planted there 

 And left proud pyramids to grow, 

 Ten million tall and multiplied 

 Until they pushed the stars aside! 

 And yet, what man hath seen or said 

 In song or tale, how grandly fair 

 This nameless glory overhead; 

 This unnamed New Jerusalem 

 White as God's trailing garment's hem? 



The pioneer, content to teach 

 Christ's holy lessons and to rest, 

 To preach content and ever preach 

 That rest, sweet rest, in reckoned best — 

 This buckskin prophet drove the plow; 

 For he was worn, as worn with years. 

 Two thousand miles of thirst and tears, 

 Two thousand miles of bated breath, 

 Two thousand miles of dust and death, 

 When lo, yon gleaming hemisphere! 

 But now the world shall know, yea now 

 His son's face lifteth from the plow! 



— Joaquin Miller. 



