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in the West there lies a desert land, where the mountains Lift, through perpetual snows, their lofty and luminous summits. Down from their desolate, deep ravines, where the gorge, like a gateway, Opens a passage rude to the wheels of the emigrant's wagon, Westward the Oregon flows and the Walleway and Owyhee. Eastward, with devious course, among the Wind-river Mountains,