Nesbitt Memorial Library Journal, Volume 9, Number 3, September 1999 Page: 151
[68] p. : ill. ; 28 cm.View a full description of this periodical.
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The Writings of Fannie Amelia Dickson Darden
land. On this last mountain a well-defined cross
is observed near the summit, and our hearts swell
with emotion when we behold how nature's own
hand planted in the ages long passed away this
emblem of the Christian's faith. As I said be-
fore, we have been a whole day viewing a con-
tinuous panorama of what seemed to be sculp-
tured forms in the rocks. One which particularly
attracted attention is a train of cars seemingly
winding around the mountain side. So perfect is
the illusion that one could scarcely believe that
the whole was only rock, which, however, is
proven when the train, making one of its won-
derful curves, changes its position, and the opti-
cal illusion is changed into its original form of
immense boulders projecting from the mountain
side. But had the Indian seers who once inhab-
ited this land, translated this prophetic page of
hieroglyphics, they could have foretold the com-
ing of civilization, and the wonderful revolution
now being made in the building up of the country
by the extension of the Sunset route. Looking at
the verdant growth thro' which we are now pass-
ing, reminds me that even in the most arid por-
tions of the way, the moral kingdom is not with-
out representatives, suiting its growth to the char-
acter of the soil and climate. Among the rocks
and sterile soil it placed the cactus and Spanish
dagger; now, when some little moisture is held in
low places, the floweret raises its lowly head
and brightens the solitude; and now, as a streamlet
winds along the valley, you can plainly mark its
course by the rushes of emerald green and fields
of rose-colored flowers that grow, profusely along
its way.
The valleys continue to grow more ver-
dant, and the mountains higher, while in the dis-
tance, as the sun gradually declines, the shad-
ows creeping up their sloping sides assume deep-
est blue, and we look forward in the far distance
to those dark blue peaks which speak of more
perfect beauty, as we look into the future with
longing hearts for the realization of some happi-
ness which we have never been able to grasp inthe present; and when attained, would not the
halo with which our own romance invested it be
dispelled, and we left with a harsh and repelling
realism in our embrace?
In this instance of scenery, however, one
is not doomed to disappointment. We are now at
the foot of the long and high range of mountains
that were seen so many miles away, with their
blue peaks lifted up in the pure ether of cerulean
loveliness. Most impenetrable, almost insur-
mountable, seem those massive hills which shut
out the vision from the confines of Mexico. These
mountains are now magnificent in proportion to
their size, and contain green and fertile valleys.
Through the vista of one is seen Fort Davis, a
mere speck on the side of its blue and distant
hill.
We have now reached the crowning
point of the road, the Pass Anna, the highest el-
evation between New Orleans and San Fran-
cisco, being slightly over five thousand feet above
the level of the sea. Winding through this pictur-
esque canyon, the gloriously beautiful mountains
loom up on each side, extending far away into
the vista, those near us clothed with delicate tints
of green, dotted with trees of deeper hue, and
crowned with reddish-colored rocks, which
time-nature's enchanting artist-has adorned
with colors of emerald, gray and crimson, and
which, with the hand of a sculptor, she has ar-
ranged in statuesque groupings of every fantas-
tic and imaginable form. The road winds com-
pletely around the highest and sharpest peak
along the route, and, in many tortuous curves,
traverses a luxuriant valley, through which
courses a stream along whose banks herds of
cattle are grazing. Now the country becomes
more level, while to the right and left one sees
only occasional mountains in the far distance.
Farewell to Pass Anna, the beautiful valley, with
its pure mountain air!
The evening shades are fast sifting down
upon us, while from under the great boulder of
cloud which hangs low over the horizon, the sum151
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Nesbitt Memorial Library. Nesbitt Memorial Library Journal, Volume 9, Number 3, September 1999, periodical, September 1999; Columbus, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth151407/m1/23/?q=nesbitt%20memorial%20library%20journal&rotate=90: accessed April 28, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; crediting Nesbitt Memorial Library.