glowing orange on the park-like slopes. Of the humbler blossoms, one new to me, is a lovely little yellow flower with a brown heart rather like a pansy. It is called the Californian violet, and is, I suppose, a variety of the dog-tooth.

Never before have I seen Tennyson's words so well illustrated, for truly you scarce could see the grass for flowers.' Along the sedgy water-courses, I found bright-blue dwarf iris, and delicate yellow mimulus, golden ranunculus and myosotis. In short, lovely darlings without number. Here, as elsewhere, wild honeysuckle excelled all else in fragrance, its trails mingling with those of perfumed wild roses, which festooned the scrub, and sometimes tempted us into danger.

For even in this floral Paradise, mischief lurks, under the guise of a very innocent-looking prickly oak, whose young leaves are attractive enough to tempt the unwary hand to pluck them-a rash deed, of which only a new comer could be guilty, for all Californians shrink instinctively from the treacherous Poison Oak* which, with good reason, they regard with the utmost horror. It is the Upas tree of this region Many people are utterly prostrated by merely breathing too near it. I suppose it gives forth some subtle exhalation which, to sensitive constitutions really is poisonous. Certainly some people must be more readily affected than others, for whereas with many the slightest scratch from one of its prickly leaves produces boils and sores very difficult to cure; others, finding themselves in a thicket of the dreaded plant, have come home in fear and trembling, supposing they must assuredly be poisoned, and yet have felt no harm.

One thing certain is, that it is most poisonous in spring, when the sap is rising, and that if it comes in contact with broken skin-any bruise or cut-mischief is almost inevitable. Every one seems inspired with a charitable wish to save the new-comer from risking this agonising discovery for himself, and many a kind warning has already been given me on this subject. This dangerous little shrub is a scraggy bush of parasitic habit, inclined to cling, like ivy, to rocks and trees. It is a member of the Sumach family, and bears a leaf something between a bramble and a holly, but in nowise resembling an oak.

I noticed that the common oak is loaded with larger gall apples than I have ever supposed to exist, the size of large real apples.

The number of woodpeckers in these forests must be something amazing, for all day long I heard these noisy birds at work, drilling deep holes all over the pine-trees, with their hard, sharp beaks. Sometimes there were so many of them all tap-tap-tapping that I almost fancied there must be carpenters working in the forest.

I saw some trees which literally had hundreds of holes in them, pierced to a depth of a couple of inches, till they were literally honeycombed, each hole bored as neatly as if it had been made by a joiner's auger.

* Rhus Toxicodendron.

As fast as they are made, the woodpeckers, and their partners the blue-jays, carefully deposit an acorn in each hole, as their winter store, always with the point turned inwards, and the flat base just closing the opening. The careful woodpecker always selects one which exactly fits the hole, while the less tidy blue-jay drops in the first he finds, whether it fits or not.

Some of these acorns breed worms and some do not, so then the two birds divide the store, the woodpeckers eating the worms, while their friends get the sound acorns. Here you have a true co-operative society in the forest!

While I was sitting quietly by myself to get a sketch, a pair of woodpeckers came and hunted a dead tree beside me. First Mrs. Woodpecker walked up, closely followed by her husband, with his dandy scarlet cap. She went on very quickly, tapping the bark, where I could see nothing. But every minute she pulled out a fat, white maggot, of which she swallowed half and gave her husband half, like a dutiful wife. Then when she was tired he went first, and shared his bag with her in the same way.

This maggot is a worse foe to the timber-merchant than the woodpeckers, for it bores holes right through large trees, piercing them to the very heart. It never attacks healthy trees, or indeed living ones, but so soon as the tree falls or dies then this fat ugly grub scents it out, lays its eggs beneath the bark, and in due time a large family of young borers begin their busy lives of mischief, and if left to work undisturbed, soon riddle the finest timber in the forest. The only way to check their depredations is to bark a tree as soon as it falls or dies, that these destructive foes may find no tempting nest of soft, warm bark wherein to breed.

*

The woodpeckers were not my only visitors. Merry little squirrels, full of fun and frolic, played on the grass and leapt from bough to bough. The whole country swarms with them. There are large, grey, ground squirrels, which the Indians hunt and eat as they do rabbits, but those which so delight me are the chipmunks-the sauciest little creatures imaginable.

One couple came and took up their quarters on a tree close to me. I sat very still for fear of frightening them, but I need not have taken that precaution, for they did not mind me a bit. In fact, they were very angry at my staying there, and one of them sat on the side of the tree chattering at me, whistling and dancing, till I got tired of its noise, and threw a cone at it. It merely dodged round the tree and fetched its wife, and then the two together sat and scolded me furiously. They made such a noise that it became very tiresome indeed, so I threw several cones at them, but they were always too quick for me, and I had to put up with their chatter for more than an hour, after which they got tired and went away, much to my satisfaction.

*Pissodes Strobi.

They are most provident little people, and while enjoying their full share of good things in the present, do not fail to lay by abundant stores for the wintry days. They establish subterranean granaries, in which they conceal all manner of nuts, acorns, and seeds of different sorts, and as they are always busy either eating or storing, they contrive, in the course of the autumn, to conceal ten times more material than they can ever consume.

So these carefully buried seeds spring up and become the nurslings of the forest. Or, in the open country, they grow up singly, where they have room to expand, and there is no doubt that many of the noblest trees, which give beauty to the land, owe their existence to the provident instincts of these wise little folk.

When we had gathered flowers to our heart's content, and watched the blue jays and squirrels darting about, we were ready to enjoy a capital luncheon, spread under the trees, on the green turf, after which, some went fishing on the large artificial lake (which is, I believe, the reservoir for the use of San Rafael), and the others walked round it, still in search of new flowers. Then came the boiling of the kettle, and a cheery tea, followed by a delightful drive home and a pleasant evening.

CLARKE'S RANGE,

NEAR THE MARIPOSA BIG TREES,
April 28th.

When I stopped writing, we returned to San Francisco, to prepare for our start. Having an hour to spare, we devoted it to Woodward's gardens, which are a combination of zoological and botanical gardens, gymnasium, skating rink, museum, and anything else you can think of. To me, the chief point of interest lay in the aquarium, where there is a charming fish with eyes like large brass beads, and another with fleshy spikes all round his mouth. Several large tanks are occupied by sea-lions, captured at the Farallone Isles and bought by weight at the rate of three shillings (seventy-five cents) per lb.

The largest has spent seven years in the garden; captivity seems to agree with him, as he now weighs upwards of a ton. We watched him feeding, and felt convinced that he took a malicious pleasure in splashing the rudely staring multitude, including ourselves.

We left San Francisco in the afternoon. First we drove to the Oakland ferry, and a large steamer took us across the Bay of San Francisco to Oakland, which is one of the gigantic city's great babies -in itself a city of pleasant villas, which already numbers about fifty thousand inhabitants, ten thousand of whom are computed to cross the ferry daily, by the magnificent steamers which ply to and fro every half hour.

The steamer meets the Great Pacific Railway, and though it must be very inconvenient for the San Franciscans always to have this

break at the beginning or end of a journey, everything is arranged like clockwork to facilitate travel. For instance, a baggage transfer company took possession of our luggage in our own rooms at the hotel, and restored it safely on our leaving the train.

This was my first experience of an American railway, so of course everything was novel, beginning with the engines with their huge chimneys to allow of burning wood; and also the cow-catchers,' or projecting fence of iron bars, which is intended to sweep wandering cattle off the line- Varra awkward for the cow!'

Instead of carriages divided into compartments, as in England, the cars are very long, like a miniature church aisle with about a dozen seats, just fitted for two persons, on each side of a middle passage, along which any one who chooses may wander from one end of the train to the other, a privilege of which so many persons take advantage that they seem to be for ever passing and repassing, slamming doors, &c. Ladies go to the fountain' to drink iced water, which is supplied freely in all carriages; gentlemen pass to and from the smoking carriage, and men selling cigars, books, newspapers, fruits, and sweetmeats endeavour to find customers among the passengers.

This extreme publicity doubtless has its advantages in preventing any possibility of danger from bad or mad companions, nevertheless I think a comfortable corner in the seclusion of a luxurious English carriage is preferable to even the much vaunted Pullman cars, in which, as in the ordinary cars, you must perforce sit up all day without any support for weary head and shoulders. The height of luxury is attained in the drawing-room car, where each passenger is provided with a comfortable arm-chair, which, though a fixture, is constructed so as to turn in every direction.

The railway carried up through the great San Joaquin Valley as far as Merced, a distance of a hundred and fifty miles. As this may not convey much to your mind, I may as well explain the lie of the land.

The grand State may be roughly described as a magnificent basin, encompassed on the right hand and on the left by mighty mountain barriers. On the west the low Coast Range runs parallel with the shores of the Pacific; while on the east tower the glorious Sierras, crowned with everlasting snow-a true Alpine range-in which upwards of a hundred peaks average 13,000 feet in height, while mount Whitney, one of the southernmost points, attains nearly 15,000 feet.

The Coast Range only averages about 4,000 feet, and its highest peaks are about 8,000. The two ranges run parallel for a distance of five hundred miles, then converge, both at the northern and southern extremities, thus inclosing the wide tract of level land which lies. between these mountain ramparts, and forming one vast valley of extraordinary fertility. This is watered by two majestic rivers, which

rise among the blended spurs of the two ranges, the San Joaquin river in the south, and the Sacramento river, at the base of Mount Shasta, in the north. The San Joaquin flows northward and the Sacramento southward, each receiving a multitude of tributaries. These two grand streams meet half way in the great valley, and together flow into the Bay of San Francisco, and thence through the Golden Gates to the Pacific.

From these rivers the northern half of the valley receives its name of Sacramento, and the southern half that of San Joaquin. Each of these valleys is on so vast a scale that the eye receives only the impression of a vast plain bounded by distant hills. Each is about 250 miles long by 40 in width-an Elysium for farmers, where the fertile soil asks neither for water nor manure (here called 'fertilizers').

I am told that these valleys, or rather this one combined gigantic valley, contains about 15,000,000 acres of arable land, which never requires irrigation, and, even in the driest years, produces heavy crops. Of the southern part of the valley scarcely one-tenth is as yet under cultivation, though many vast farms are already established, and some men hold tracts of 100,000 acres on lease from the State, all laid out in wheat. Wheat-fields of from one to five thousand acres are common, but occasionally a man of large ideas determines to out-vie his fellows, so he makes one colossal field of many thousand acres. I have heard of one field of 40,000 acres ! Of course this is considered rather speculative, as the failure of one such crop would probably involve ruin.

I only wonder that half our farmers do not emigrate here instead of struggling year after year with our fickle climate.

To return to our journey. The train halted at 7 P.M. to allow us time for a hurried dinner. It was called 'lunch,' and I observed that the word is applied here to all odd and end, irregular meals, even early in the morning. A man was carving some horribly underdone meat, and asked me whether I liked it 'rare.' This also struck me as a novel use of a word, but I am told that both are good old English, and that the Americans have merely retained these, and many others in the original sense, just as they keep the old Saxon termination in such words as gotten and waxen, which we only retain in the Bible. (On referring to Johnson's Dictionary I find that lunch means a handful of food,' and rare is interpreted to mean 'raw.')

It was 10 P.M. ere we reached Merced, where we left the steam cars.' We slept at a good hotel, which was very full on account of a ball in the house, which was kept up most of the night and somewhat disturbed my slumber. At six the following morning a large open coach was ready to take passengers bound for the Sierras. It was fitted (said the proprietor) to hold twelve people and any amount of baggage. The fitness proved a tight fit, and supremely uncomfortable, but like good travellers we all made the best of it,