June 16, 1871
We are in Nevada! I am overlooking the vast and endless desert known as the great American frontier with Robert. It is not as dry as I expected, but, holds many varieties of flora and fauna. Compared to the rolling plains, the landscape, here, is quite flat and rocky. However, the beauty of such a scene lies therein. As I gaze forward, I see the blue mountains and their white peaks scraping the azure sky, and unobstructed by buildings and trees. Any brooding sentiment I might incur is hastily extinguished.
"'Tis a fraction of the beauty that rests upon this world," Robert proclaimed. "The countryside of Ireland is ruffled with green foothills, and scattered with ancient stone walls of our once great kingdoms. The very lands of Tir Na Nog were once at our feet."
"I hope to see them myself one day."
"Aye, don't we all?" he smirked.
We exchanged pleasantries and watched as the sun lowered behind the range of mountains. The skies were as clear as glass—not so much as a white feathery cloud could be seen.
"I think I know what this diary is," I said to Robert. "It is the chronicles and adventures of a man who wishes to see it all, so to speak. A man who believes in truth and science—and immediate account of the experienced human condition."
He nodded. "I could not have phrased it better, Mr. Morgan."
Until we arrive in San Francisco, I shall continue to admire the landscape; sharing wonderful stories with my companion, and exploring the far reaches of science fiction with Verne. How inspiring this train ride has been!