stern base of the double summit of the Sierra Nevadas and
began our ascent. Mounted on my faithful steed, Old Pete, I
pushed on in advance of the caravan, in order to get the first
view of the already famous mountain lake, then known as Lake
Bigler. The road wound through the defile and around the
southern border of the Lake on the margin of which we camped
for two days.

As I approached the summit I turned from the main road and
followed a trail to the right which led to the top of a
bare rock overlooking the valley beyond and furnishing an
unobstructed view.

Thus my first view of that beautiful sheet of water was from a
projecting cliff 1000 feet above its surface, and it embraced
not only the entire outline of the Lake with its charming bays
and rocky headlands but also the magnificent forests of giant
pines and firs in which it was embosomed, and the dozen or
more lofty mountain peaks thrusting their white summits into
the sky at altitudes varying from 8000 to 11,000 feet above
sea level.

The view was, indeed, the most wonderful combination of
towering mountains, widespreading valley, gleaming lakes,
umbrageous forests, rugged buttresses of granite, flashing
streams, tumbling waterfalls, and overarching sky of deepest
cerulean hue--all blended into one perfect mosaic of the
beautiful, the picturesque, and the majestic, that mortal eye
ever rested upon.

No imagination can conceive the beauty, sublimity and
inspiration of that scene, especially to one who had for weary
months been traversing dusty, treeless and barren plains. The
contrast was overwhelming. Tears filled my eyes as I gazed
upon the fairy scene. I recall the entrancing picture to-day,
in all its splendid detail, so vividly was it photographed
upon my brain.

Since that hour I have crossed the continent ten times, over
various railway routes, visited most of the States of the
Union, and seven foreign countries, heard the testimony of
others whose travels have been world-wide, and I doubt if
another scene of equal enchantment exists on the face of the
globe.

In 1861, two years after my visit to Tahoe, I gathered the
data for compiling the first general map of the Pacific
States, which embraced the region from British Columbia to
Mexico, and from the Rocky Mountains to the coas