The Empire County Argus

GO AND SEE FOR YOURSELVES. -- The citizens of Coloma who seldom or never visit the hill-tops which surround our quiet little village lose many an hour of interest, which might be employed in surveying the scenery there presented to view. -- From the highest peaks, the eye can take in a long line of the valley below, its undulations and its wood-fringed borders. Like a silver belt, the Sacramento is seen winding its way across the panorama; while in the distance the Coast Range looms up, and with mist-clad peaks are lost in ether. -- Monte Diablo, too, like a mighty pyramid, stands almost isolated--a way mark and a guide, presenting a beautiful contrast with the lesser yet noble hills adjacent. On the north, the snow-capped Nevadas rear their lofty heads, defying the heat of summer's sun and braving the fury of winter's storms. From the eastern horizon as far as the eye can reach away towards the mighty west, the snowy outline prominently appears, presenting a coruscation sublimely beautiful. At our feet, as it were, lies Coloma, nestled in peace down in the bosom of our hills--the emblem of peace and contentment. Meandering along the base of the mountain, and skirting the town, is the Rio de los Americanos hurrying on to the ocean to mingle waters, and become absorbed in the immensity--the fit emblem of man's pilgrimage.

There are other scenes which would well repay a visit to the mountain tops, and render glad the heart while they please the eye. Along the base of the mountains--in the ravines--on the points, bars and slides--on the knolls and on the flats, the busy hum of industry goes forth, and the sharp click of the pick and shovel tells the tale that energy and perseverance are there to disembowel the treasures of the earth. In places, and those not a few, the garden and field improvements contrast beautifully with the surrounding wildness, and tells of quiet homes and happy hearts, of civilization and permanency in our mountain vale. Away up the side of the mountain, or coursing on the banks of the river are the water ditches--those arteries which furnish the element so necessary for mining operations. This is not all. Yonder stands the village church, modest and unadorned, where the messenger of God in earnest tones tells the tale of his mission. There, too, is the school house, the embryo college of our land, where the youth are taught the elements, theoretical and practical, of our language, and imbibe those streams of knowledge, so useful in life's drama. We all love to dwell upon the associations of school boy days, even though time's frost has tipped our locks, and wrinkled our foreheads with care. Again we say, an hour on the tops of the hills can be profitably employed.