Thank you for visiting SNEWPapers!
Sign up free
Literary
April 4, 1861
The Nevada Democrat
Nevada City, Nevada County, California
What is this article about?
A poem contrasting the nurturing of vines in valleys with the destructive exploitation of mountain streams by gold miners, personifying the pure snow-fed waters as polluted and tamed for profit until evaporated by the sun.
Clipping
OCR Quality
95%
Excellent
Full Text
THE MOUNTAIN STREAM.
In the valleys,
they train the docile vine and watch its
growth. The gentle rains fall upon it, and
the sunshine and the dew afford it nourishment. The course of the seasons brings the
flower, then fruit; and man patiently
watches for the harvest time.
How different, life in the mountains.
Just under the dripping eaves of the almost
continual snow bank, the mountain is smitten
with pick and shovel, and its sides
drained off in new channels. Accumulating
water, and stained with clay, the stream
rushes over mercurial snares set for uncertain
gold. Goes slower as it approaches
greater streams, and at last ashamed to present
its muddied countenance at the congregation
of waters, the polluted blood of the
pure mountain snow stops in its course, and
sinks for shame into the earth.
And the rushing river—pure as the snow
swift as the wind, mighty as the storm—is
hunted to the mountain gorge, and stopped
with a dam. A flume is set, and the miner
bids it keep out of its wonted bed and within
the bounds he has set, while he digs up
its channel for gold. Another miner, by
leave of the first, sets a line of boxes, and
demands of the tamed stream certain square
inches of its water. He trains it out in nice
long boxes, till it is beyond all influence of
the mother stream—then it is turned upon
all manner of dirt—dust of the earth, and
dust of gold. It is made vile; and sold
again and again; forced into dollar and a-
half diggings; turned down unprofitable
shafts; dogs drowned in it; Chinaman
washed in it; manure and onion patches
absorb it; till the Sun, for pity, lifts it
again to the clouds that have their homes
in the North.—[Sierra Democrat.
In the valleys,
they train the docile vine and watch its
growth. The gentle rains fall upon it, and
the sunshine and the dew afford it nourishment. The course of the seasons brings the
flower, then fruit; and man patiently
watches for the harvest time.
How different, life in the mountains.
Just under the dripping eaves of the almost
continual snow bank, the mountain is smitten
with pick and shovel, and its sides
drained off in new channels. Accumulating
water, and stained with clay, the stream
rushes over mercurial snares set for uncertain
gold. Goes slower as it approaches
greater streams, and at last ashamed to present
its muddied countenance at the congregation
of waters, the polluted blood of the
pure mountain snow stops in its course, and
sinks for shame into the earth.
And the rushing river—pure as the snow
swift as the wind, mighty as the storm—is
hunted to the mountain gorge, and stopped
with a dam. A flume is set, and the miner
bids it keep out of its wonted bed and within
the bounds he has set, while he digs up
its channel for gold. Another miner, by
leave of the first, sets a line of boxes, and
demands of the tamed stream certain square
inches of its water. He trains it out in nice
long boxes, till it is beyond all influence of
the mother stream—then it is turned upon
all manner of dirt—dust of the earth, and
dust of gold. It is made vile; and sold
again and again; forced into dollar and a-
half diggings; turned down unprofitable
shafts; dogs drowned in it; Chinaman
washed in it; manure and onion patches
absorb it; till the Sun, for pity, lifts it
again to the clouds that have their homes
in the North.—[Sierra Democrat.
What sub-type of article is it?
Poem
What themes does it cover?
Nature
Commerce Trade
Moral Virtue
What keywords are associated?
Mountain Stream
Gold Mining
Nature Exploitation
Polluted Waters
Valley Harvest
Literary Details
Title
The Mountain Stream.
Key Lines
Just Under The Dripping Eaves Of The Almost Continual Snow Bank, The Mountain Is Smitten With Pick And Shovel, And Its Sides Drained Off In New Channels.
The Polluted Blood Of The Pure Mountain Snow Stops In Its Course, And Sinks For Shame Into The Earth.
It Is Made Vile; And Sold Again And Again; Forced Into Dollar And A Half Diggings; Turned Down Unprofitable Shafts; Dogs Drowned In It; Chinaman Washed In It; Manure And Onion Patches Absorb It; Till The Sun, For Pity, Lifts It Again To The Clouds That Have Their Homes In The North.