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THE SENTINEL IN YOSEMITE PARK.—Every one who visits Yosemite is amazed at the grandeur and magnitude of the scenery. In the language of the author of this work, “Everywhere, up and down that magic valley, whether viewed from the gorges that have their bottoms in dark and mystic abysses, or from amazing heights of walls thrust far into the skies, there is wonder piled upon wonder.” Each advancing step brings a new revelation, until the vision is lost in a maze of marvelous views. One of the most striking features of this photograph is the outline of the falls in Merced River, as seen to the right of the grizzly Sentinel. ]
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[Illustration: CASCADE BRIDGE AND SNOW-SHEDS ON THE SIERRAS.]
After leaving Ogden, the Southern Pacific passes in a half-circle around the northern shores of Salt Lake, and then darts into the Nevada, or Great American Desert, a vast sea of alkali rippled with dry sage-brush; a furnace in summer and a Siberian tundra in winter. Nature has denied to this wretched region any compensation of flower, stream, bird, or even curiosity. It is the very nakedness of bleak desolation, and stretches its cursed length through a distance of 600 miles. The Humboldt River has tried to force a way through this parched waste; but however great its volume of water, gathered from the mountains in spring freshets, the desert drinks it up at a place known as the Humboldt Sink, where the thirst of the sands is so great that the river is arrested and stands still in a shallow lake, the resort of myriads of water-fowls.
But though the land is a wind-swept waste of alkali, scorched, denuded and cursed, yet men have planted their hopes even there, and are wrestling with the harshest and most unpromising disadvantages. Indian camps are frequent, and villages are occasional, where a few brave men, inured to all difficulties, scratch the parched earth and seek a precarious sustenance, though nearly all are traders, furnishing supplies to miners in the mountains miles away.
The dreary, lifeless monotony is relieved, however, just before reaching Humboldt Lake, by the bold but rugged contour of sky-piercing pinnacles, which rise to the south of the road in curious forms and extraordinary magnitude, marking the line of Humboldt River. These interesting formations are known as the Humboldt Palisades, in which the Devil’s Peak is conspicuous, viewed from the car window. After so many hours passed in crossing a wretched desert, the scenery of meandering river and lofty bluffs is extremely invigorating, and preparation to enjoy the sight is complete. But the palisades are singularly beautiful, viewed under any conditions, and situated near the edge of an alkali wilderness, as they are, they break upon the vision of a west-bound passenger with a delight that arouses rapture.