In the gold rush days, the V&T railroad’s
whistle could be heard, with its plumes
of smoke rising high in the air. Mostly
the rich rode the trains, for the gold
miners could not afford to buy a ticket.
Ladies with their wide brimmed hats
of feathers and ribbons, the gents with
their pipes and vests, could be seen
through the windows waving goodbye
in excitement. The train wound its way
between towns, then coming to a
station, where the passengers would
stay in luxurious hotels of that era.
As a child I never had the privilege
of riding a train, but I can still hear
the whistle blowing as it chugged up
the steep mountain passes.
The last mining town I lived in of many
towns in my childhood travels. This
picture, called Devil’s Gate, is just
past the town of Silver City, where we
finally settled. Many miners passed
through these gates during the
Comstock Lode. Thieves and robbers
would lay in wait to plunder the
miners searching for gold.
Virginia City, famous for its mines,
brothels and saloons is just a few
miles beyond these gates. We lived
in an old mining shack up a canyon.
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