distinguished gentleman ceased to be Governor come the grand central point of pleasure and of California he was made a Minister to South recreation for the people of the Pacific Coast. America. It was then discovered by both The water of the lake is singularly clear and friends and enemies that the name was inap- blue, and during the warmest months is so cool propriate and lacked euphony; friends had no- as to render bathing rather a lively and stimuthing more to hope; enemies nothing more to lating exercise. It abounds in the finest trout, fear. Who the deuce is John Bigler, said they, which supply the markets of Carson and Virthat the finest lake in California should be called ginia City, and occasionally furnish a rich treat after him? Let us blot his ugly name off the to the epicures of San Francisco. Fishermen map and call this beautiful sheet of water Lake are busily occupied with their nets at intervals Latham or Lake Downey. But here com- along its shores, greatly to the detriment of genmenced a squabble between the friends of these tlemen who follow in the footsteps of Izaac Waleminent gentlemen relative to their respective ton. An excellent hotel, called the Lake House, claims. Latham, it was true, had served with has been established at a beautiful and picturhonor in the Custom-house-had held the Gu-esque point on the right shore (going toward bernatorial chair for a few weeks, and subse- Virginia), where good accommodations and "all quently had become United States Senator. the luxuries of the season" can now be had. But then Downey had vetoed the Bulkhead bill. Two enterprising Americans, Messrs. Dean and Pending this difficulty, a hint from some obscure Martin, have recently purchased the premises, source came very near resulting in the selection with a view of getting up a splendid wateringof a name that would doubtless have afforded place in the Atlantic style. Already they have general satisfaction, since it could be claimed bath-houses, pleasure-boats, riding horses, bilby a great many people throughout the State- liard tables, bowling-alleys, and all the conventhe name of Brown. It was brief, pointed, and iencies for health and recreation. At the time popular - Lake Brown! But what Brown? of my visit the house was in process of enlargeThere were thirty-six Browns in the Peniten- ment. Martin was one of my fellow-pedestritiary, besides several more who ought to be ans on my first trip across the mountains to there; and at least forty-four Browns were can- Washoe, and I can safely say it would give me didates for the Legislature or inmates of the great pleasure to hear of his success in this enLunatic Asylum; so that it was difficult to see terprise. He is a clever, genial fellow, a firstwhat Brown would be specially benefited by the rate traveling companion, and an upright, honcompliment. The name itself scarcely present-est man. To dyspeptics, consumptives, and ed sufficient claims over all other names to be broken-down stock-brokers I have a word of adselected merely on account of its euphony.. So Brown was dropped; and between Latham and Downey it was impossible to come to an equitable decision. The name of Bigler remained unmolested for several years longer. In due time, when Latham and Downey were both thrown overboard, the discussion of the question was renewed — every prominent man in the State claiming that the lake should be named after himself. Finally, as popular sentiment could not fix upon the name of any white man, it gradually settled down in favor of the supposed Indian name-Tahoe-which was the first word spoken to the discoverer by a solitary digger, whom he encountered upon its shores. "Tahoe!" cried the digger; and it was at once assumed that "Tahoe" meant "Big Water;" but I am assured by an old settler that "Tahoe" means "Strong Water" in other words, "Whisky"- -so that this magnificent lake, formerly called Bigler, is now literally "Lake Whisky!" Within the past two years the people of California and Washoe have begun to discover the beauties of this charming region, and its rare advantages as a place of summer resort. Situated in the bosom of the Sierra Nevada mountains, 6000 feet above the level of the sea, with an atmosphere of wonderful purity; abounding in game; convenient of access, and possessing all the attractions of retirement from the busy world, amidst scenery unrivaled for its romantic beauties, there can be no doubt it will soon be vice to offer: If you want your digestive apparatus put in complete order, so that brickbats will stick to your ribs without inconvenience, spend a month with my friend Martin; if your bronchial tubes distress you, swallow a few thousand gallons of Lake Tahoe air, and you can blow bellows blasts from your lungs forever after; if your nervous system is deranged by bad speculations in stocks, bowl nine-pins and row one of Martin's boats for six weeks, and I venture to affirm stocks will rise a thousand per cent. It is all a matter of health in the longrun; with good digestion and a sound nervous system there is no trouble in life; and for these ends there is no place like Tahoe. From the first hour after leaving Placerville we passed along the road-side numerous teams and trains of wagons, most of which were grouped together under the trees, or in front of the station-houses, in the old-fashioned camp style. I commenced a rough calculation of the number of wagons, but soon gave it up as a hopeless task. It seemed to me that there were enough of them, big and little, to reach all the way over the mountain. At the least calculation we must have passed two or three hundred. Every wagon was heavily freighted-some with merchandise, others with iron castings for the mills, and quite a goodly number with families, fruit, whisky, and furniture. There were horse-teams, and mule-teams, and ox-teams. I never before saw so many teams on one road. No wonder the dust was pretty deep! The camp scenes along the way-side were lively and picturesque. I enjoyed them with a peculiar zest after three years of travel through the deserts of civilization in Europe. Here was life reduced to its primary elements here were accommodations cheap, roomy, and gorgeously furnished; here was comfort fit for poet, artist, or any other man of a naturally sound and barbarous taste; here were food and fire without stint, and fresh air to an unlimited extent; and holes enough through the tops of the trees to let the smoke out; and neither commissioners nor waiters to stand behind and admire your style of eating. Who is there so depraved as not to yearn for the heavenly joys of a camp-life in the wilderness? Just take a side-peep at that merry group of teamsters! Uncouth and unsentimental they may be; tired and hungry after their hard day's work they doubtless are; but did you ever see a hap 66 JOB. pier looking set of vaga that besmear them, absolutely shine in the cheery light of the big log fire; they sniff the steaming stew that simmers in the pot with sympathetic unction; they sit and loll upon their motherearth in exquisite unconsciousness of dirt; they spin their yarns of the day's adventures with many a merry burst of laughter; and now, as they fall to work and devour the savory mess before them, what need have they for dinnerpills? Hunger is their sauce-fresh air and exercise their medicine. Oh, the jolly rascals! How I envy them their camp life! "Are you going back to the States ?" said I, | bonds? Their faces, despite the dust and grime to a Pike County man, with a wagon-load of wife and children, beds, chairs, and cooking utensils. "No, Sir," said he, turning the quid in his leathery jaw, "you bet I ain't! I'm bound for Reese! After I make my pile thar, a keeping of a tavern, I'll steer for Californy agin -it's good enough a country for me." "Why did you leave it?" I asked. "Wa'al," said the poor fellow, wiping the dust from his face with the back of his hand, "that's more'n I know. 'Twarn't my fault. The old 'oman was high for feet. She said we were fools for a tinkerin' on our little farm down thar, when every body was makin' fortunes in Reese. She's tolerable peert -the old 'oman is. Oh, she's on it, you bet!" "Well, I wish you luck!" "Thank yer," drawled Pike; "what mout yer name be, stranger?" "My name?-ahem-is-John." The man looked hard at me; turned the quid once more in his leathery jaw; squirted out a copious stream of juice, and, without changing in the slightest degree the gravity of his countenance, said, "Mine's Job ;" and then went to work unhitching his horses. This was the last I saw of Job. On second thoughts I don't know that they are to be envied in every particular. As to the daily part of their occupation-driving ox and mule teams over the Sierras; swallowing dust and alkali on the plains; pushing, pulling, sweating, and swearing at their stubborn animals, and navigating their heavy wagons over bad roads from one month's end to another-I can't conscientiously envy them. Sooner than follow mule or ox driving as a profession, I think I'd profess politics for a living-which I consider the last resort of a worthless man. Yet I must confess the trip to Washoe has, to me at least, lost much of its original charm. No longer is the way variegated by long strings of pedestrians, carrying their picks, shovels, and blankets upon their backs; no longer are the stopping - places crowded every night with two or three hundred millionaires rejoicing in empty pockets and brimming heads; no longer are the wild mountain passes enlivened by grotesque scenes of saddle-trains and passengers struggling through the mud and snow; it is all now a regular and well-established line of travel-too civilized to be interesting in any great degree, and too convenient to admit of those charming discomforts which formerly afforded us so much amusement. The business man who now leaves San Francisco at 4 P.M. is deposited at Virginia City by 10 o'clock the next night -just thirty-six hours' traveling time. Fancy how the emigrants who | sketch was all I could get of this remarkable crossed these mountains prior to 1860 would have stared at the bare suggestion of such a feat as this! If we are behind the times in railroads, it is certain there is no such country in the world for feats of horse-flesh as California. The length of our stage-routes, the rapidity with which we travel on them, and the facilities afforded by our . expresses, would astonish the humdrum people of the Atlantic States, if they had the faintest idea of the difficulties to be overcome in carrying such enterprises into effect in a wild country like ours. A new road now winds along the shores of Lake Tahoe. This part of the trip will compare favorably with a journey along the shores of Como. At the Point of Rocks the scene is equal to any thing of the kind to be found in Europe. The road is cut through the brow of the cliff, and for a distance of several hundred feet is supported by massive timbers. To the left the clear blue waters of the lake glimmer through forests of towering pine; to the right is a colossal tower of rocks, presenting a front like some grand old fortress built by an antediluvian race of giants. A rough and very hasty point. Leaving the lake at the Glenbrook Station, we begin to ascend the last of the Sierra Nevada "divides," and, after a heavy pull and long descent, enjoy a fine view of the pretty little town of Carson. An hour more, and we are safely landed at the Express office of Wells, Fargo, and Co., from which point we can diverge to any number of bad hotels. By selecting the worst you will possibly not be disappointed. Carson City has enjoyed a very wholesome kind of prosperity since my first visit, if I might be allowed to judge by a casual glance at the new buildings around the plaza and the many pleasant residences in the suburbs. The plethoric condition of the stock market in San Francisco, and the fact that capital had been pouring through the various passes of the Sierras into Washoe, had led me to expect that wonderful improvements must be the result. Nor was I disappointed. The number of drinking saloons in Carson City, and in fact all along the route, manifested in a remarkable degree the rapid progress of civilization. The splendid stone Penitentiary, situated a couple of miles from Carson, presented another striking evidence | and of my third and last visit there in August, of moral advancement. But......... [Here a page or two of manuscript is wanting, which apparently related to Carson City.-EDITOR.] In my next paper I shall speak of Virginia City, 1864, together with an unvarnished account of my reception by the citizens; and furthermore, of my own most disastrous experiences as a lecturer in that region. grave, CHILDLESS. we returned; HE is dead, and in his grand and wave-And meeting with; in his old place, So must I-forever rave. I saw his coffin sliding down One morn I kissed him in his bed; I cease to love the living race. But somewhere, just beyond my sight, Mothers, who mourn alone to-day, On him, I live the precious days I seek my punishment again; I love to bear the cruel pain, Which makes me feel both loss and gain. To stare upon that sacred store, LYMAN BEECHER, 1803, AGED 28. LYMAN BEECHER. was, if not the ablest, the most noted clergyman in America. His recollections cover nearly the whole of the closing quarter of the last century; his active professional life was measured by the first half of the present century. After that came thirteen years of repose, during which he often proposed to write an account of his own Life and Times. His failing powers of memory and expression prevented the accomplishment of the work as originally intended. His children then undertook the pious task. They gathered up from his own lips his recollections, prompting him by questions, each adding his or her own reminiscences, and interposing chapters of correspondence, and more formal history. The completed work can be considered an Autobiography only in a very general way. The properly autobiographic element preponderates in the earlier portion, gradually diminishing to the close. As a whole, it presents a fair picture of a notable man, who acted an important part in notable times.* No Beecher came over in the Mayflower. The first Americans of that name were part of a company who came to New England in 1638, eighteen years after the landing of the Pilgrim Fathers. This company, finding theological Autobiography, Correspondence, etc., of LYMAN BERCHER, D.D., edited by CHARLES BEECHER With Illustrations. Two Volumes: Harper and Brothers. VOL. XXX.-No. 180.-3 A controversy rife in Massachusetts, resolved to form a new colony. They pitched upon a spot called by the Indians Quinnipiac, named Red Mount by the Dutch, but to which they gave the name of New Haven on account of its good harbor. Of this company was Hannah Beecher, who had become a widow just before they sailed. Being a midwife she was induced to go with the expedition by the assurance that she should receive her husband's share in the town plot. The first sermon preached to the company, after their arrival at their new home, was by Master John Davenport, under a great oak which stood on the widow's plot. The spot is marked by the "Old Beecher House," now standing in New Haven. Hannah Beecher lived a score of years, and died, leaving an estate valued at £55 5s. 6d. With her came her son John, who had already reached man's estate. His son Joseph, the first American-born Beecher, was mighty in hands and spine. He could lift a barrel of cider by the chines and drink out of the bung-hole-a feat which we commend to the trial of the strong men of our day. His son on the stump of the old oak from which Davenport preached the first sermon ever delivered in Connecticut. He, too, was a strong man, though not so strong as his father; still he could lift a barrel of cider into a cart. He stood six feet high, and was the last of the tall Beechers. None of the race since have quite come up to the standard American height. Next came David, the father of Lyman, a short, square-built man-blue-eyed, and half Welsh by blood-strong enough to carry a barrel of cider into the cellar; a blacksmith, like his father, and also a farmer, who made famous hoes, and raised excellent rye and wheat. He kept, moreover, a boarding-house for the accommodation of Yale students and members of the Legislature. His table was a little more luxurious than was the custom of the country; consequently he was afflicted with dyspepsia and the consequent blues. Moreover, he had a sun-stroke while out soldiering toward the close of the Revolutionary war, which did not tend to improve his spirits. In his later years he always fancied himself bankrupt, and on the point of coming to want. Still he lived well; and when he died was found to have laid up four or five thousand dollars-a very fair estate for the times. He was a very well-read man, but notably careless and absent-minded-a trait which was transmitted to his more famous son. |