cend the flower-mantle thickens, wafts of balsam come from the evergreens, fragrant tassels and plumes are shaken above us, cool brooks cross the road, till at length we enter the glorious forest, passing suddenly out of the sunglare into cooling shadows as if we had entered some grand inclosed hall.

We have now reached an elevation of 6000 feet, and are on the margin of the main forest belt of the Sierra. Looking down we behold the central plain of California outspread like an arm of the sea, bounded in the hazy distance by the mountains of the coast, and bathed in evening purple. Orange groves and vineyards, fields, towns, and dusty pastures are all submerged and made glorious in the divine light. Finer still is the light streaming past us through the aisles of the forest.

mill we enter the General Grant National Park of Big Trees, a square mile in extent, where a few of the giants are now being preserved amid the industrious destruction by ax, saw, and blasting-powder going on around them. Still ascending we pass the little flowery Round Meadow, set in a superb growth of silver firs, and gain the summit of the ridge that forms the west boundary of Little Boulder Creek Basin, from which a grand view of the forest is obtained,- cedar, sugar-pine, yellow pine, silver fir, and sequoia filling every hollow, and sweeping up the sides and over the top of every ridge in measureless exuberance and beauty, only a few gray rock brows on the southern rim of the basin appearing in all the sylvan sea.

We now descend to Bearskin Meadow, a sheet of purple-topped grasses enameled with

Down through the shadows we now make our way for a mile or two in one of the upper ravines of Mill Creek. Stumps, logs, and the smashed ruins of the trees cumber the ground; the scream of saws is heard; a lumber village comes in sight, and we arrive at the Moore and Smith Mills, the end of the stage line. From here the distance to the valley in a direct line is only about eighteen miles, and two trails lead to it, one of which traces the divide between the waters of the Kahweah and King's rivers, while the other holds a more direct course across the basins of Big and Little Boulder creeks, tributaries of King's River. Both ways are fairly good as mountain-trails go, inasmuch as you are seldom compelled to travel more than two miles to make an advance of one, and less than half of the miles are perpendicular. A stout walker may make the trip to the valley in a day. But if instead of crossing every ridge-wave of these broad boulder basins a good carriage-road were built around the brows and headlands of the main river cañon, the valley could be reached in less than half a day, and with the advantage of still grander scenery. The lower trail is the one commonly traveled, and upon the whole it is the more interesting, for it leads all the way through glorious forests, amid which the stately shafts and domes of sequoia are frequently seen. Climbing a steep mile from the

violets, gilias, larkspurs, potentillas, ivesias, columbine, etc.; parnassia and sedges in the wet places, and majestic trees crowding forward in proud array to form a curving border, while Little Boulder Creek, a stream twenty feet wide, goes humming and swirling merrily through the middle of it. Here we begin to climb again; ever up or down we go, not a fairly level mile in the lot. But despite the quick, harsh curves, vertical or horizontal, and the crossings of bogs and boulder-choked gullies, the sustained grandeur of the scenery keeps weariness away. The air is exhilarating. Crisp and clear comes the bold ringing call of the mountain quail, contrasting with the deep blunt bumping of the grouse, while many a small singer sweetens the air along the leafy fringes of the streams.

The next place with a name in the wilder

ness is Tornado Meadow. Here the sequoia giants stand close about us, towering above the firs and sugar-pines. Then follows another climb of a thousand feet, after which we descend into the magnificent forest basin of Big Boulder Creek. Crossing this boisterous stream as best we may, up again we go 1200 feet through glorious woods, and on a few miles to the emerald Horse Corral and Summit Meadows, a short distance beyond which the highest point on the trail is reached at Grand Lookout, 8300 feet above the sea. Here at length we gain a general view of the great cañon of King's River lying far below, and of the vast mountain-region in the sky on either side of it, and along the summit of the range. [See p. 81.] Here too we see the forest in broad dark swaths still sweeping onward undaunted, climbing the farther mountain-slopes to a height of 11,000 feet. But King Sequoia comes not thus far. The grove nearest the valley is on one of the eastern branches of Boulder Creek, five miles from the lower end.

CHIEF FEATURES OF THE CAÑON.

GOING down into the valley we make a descent of 3500 feet, over the south shoulder, by a careless crinkled trail which seems well-nigh endless. It offers, however, many fine points of view of the huge granite trough, and the river, and the sublime rocks of the walls plunging down and planting their feet on the shady level floor. [See p. 83.]

At the foot of the valley we find ourselves in a smooth spacious park, planted with stately groves of sugar-pine, yellow pine, silver fir, incense-cedar, and Kellogg oak. The floor is scarcely ruffled with underbrush, but myriads of small flowers spread a thin purple and yellow veil over the brown needles and burrs beneath the groves, and the gray ground of the open sunny spaces. The walls lean well back and support a fine growth of trees, especially on the south side, interrupted here and there by sheer masses 1000 to 1500 feet high, which are thrust forward out of the long slopes like dormer windows. [See p. 85.] Three miles up the valley on the south side we come to the Roaring Falls and Cascades. They are on a large stream called Roaring River, whose tributaries radiate far and wide and high through a magnificent. basin back into the recesses of a long curving sweep of snow-laden mountains. But though the waters of Roaring River from their fountains to the valley have an average descent of nearly five hundred feet per mile, the fall they make in getting down into the valley is insignificant in height as compared with the similarly situated Bridal Veil of the old Yosemite. The height of the fall does not greatly

exceed its width. There is one thundering plunge into a dark pool beneath a glorious mass of rainbow spray, then a boisterous rush with divided current down a boulder delta to the main river in the middle of the valley. But it is the series of wild cascades above the fall which most deserves attention. For miles back from the brow of the fall the strong, glad stream, five times as large as the Bridal Veil Creek, comes down a narrow cañon or gorge, speeding from form to form with most admirable exuberance of beauty and power, a multitude of small sweet voices blending with its thunder tones as if eager to assist in telling the glory of its fountains. On the east side of the fall the Cathedral Rocks spring aloft with imposing majesty. They are remarkably like the group of the same name in the Merced Yosemite and similarly situated though somewhat higher.

Next to Cathedral Rocks is the group called the Seven Gables, massive and solid at the base, but elaborately sculptured along the top and a considerable distance down the front into pointed gothic arches, the highest of which is about three thousand feet above the valley. Beyond the Gable Group, and separated slightly from it by the beautiful Avalanche Cañon and Cascades, stands the bold and majestic mass of the Grand Sentinel, 3300 feet high, with a split vertical front presented to the valley, as sheer, and nearly as extensive, as the front of the Yosemite Half Dome.

Projecting out into the valley from the base of this sheer front is the Lower Sentinel, 2400 feet high; and on either side, the West and East Sentinels, about the same height, forming altogether the boldest and most massively sculptured group in the valley. Then follow in close succession the Sentinel Cascade, a lace-like strip of water 2000 feet long; the South Tower, 2500 feet high; the Bear Cascade, longer and broader than that of the Sentinel; Cave Dome, 3200 feet high; the Sphinx, 4000 feet, and the Leaning Dome, 3500. The Sphinx, terminating in a curious sphinx-like figure, is the highest rock on the south wall, and one of the most remarkable in the Sierra; while the whole series from Cathedral Rocks to the Leaning Dome at the head of the valley is the highest, most elaborately sculptured, and the most beautiful series of rocks of the same extent that I have yet seen in any yosemite in the range.

Turning our attention now to the north wall, near the foot of the valley a grand and impressive rock presents itself, which with others of like structure and style of architecture is called the Palisades. Measured from the immediate brink of the vertical portion of the front, it is about two thousand feet high, and is gashed from top to base by vertical planes, making

it look like a mass of huge slabs set on edge. Its position here is relatively the same as that of El Capitan in Yosemite, but neither in bulk nor in sublime boldness of attitude can it be regarded as a rival of that great rock.

The next notable group that catches the eye in going up the valley is the Hermit Towers, and next to these the Three Hermits, forming together an exceedingly picturesque series of complicated structure, slightly separated by the steep and narrow Hermit Cañon. The Hermits stand out beyond the general line of the wall, and in form and position remind one of the Three Brothers of the Yosemite Valley.

East of the Hermits a stream about the size of Yosemite Creek enters the valley, forming the Booming Cascades. It draws its sources from the southern slopes of Mount Hutchings and Mount Kellogg, 11,000 and 12,000 feet high, on the divide between the middle and south forks of the King's River. In Avalanche Cañon, directly opposite the Booming Cascades, there is another brave bouncing chain of cascades, and these two sing and roar to each other across the valley in hearty accord. But though on both sides of the valley, and up the head cañons, water is ever falling in glorious abundance and from immense heights, we look in vain for a stream shaken loose and free in the air to complete the glory of this grandest of yosemites. Nevertheless when we trace these cascading streams through their picturesque cañons, and behold the beauty they show forth as they go plunging in short round-browed falls from pool to pool, laving and plashing their sunbeaten foam-bells; gliding outspread in smooth shining plumes, or rich ruffled lace-work fold over fold; dashing down rough places in wild ragged aprons, dancing in upbulging bosses of spray, the sweet brave ouzel helping them to sing, and ferns, lilies, and tough-rooted bushes shading and brightening their gray rocky banks, when we thus draw near and learn to know these cascade falls, which thus keep in touch with the rocks, and plants, and birds, then we admire them even more than those which leave their channels and fly down through the air.

Above the Booming Cascades, and opposite the Grand Sentinel, stands the North Dome, 3450 feet high. [See p. 87.] It is set on a long bare granite ridge, with a vertical front like the Washington Column in Yosemite. Above the Dome the ridge still rises in a finely drawn curve, until it reaches its culminating point in the pyramid, a lofty symmetrical rock nearly 6000 feet above the floor of the valley.

A short distance east of the Dome is Lion Rock, a very striking mass as seen from a favorable standpoint, but lower than the main rocks of the wall, being only about 2000 feet

high. Beyond the Lion, and opposite the East Sentinel, a stream called Copper Creek comes chanting down into the valley. It takes its rise in a cluster of beautiful lakes that lie on top of the divide between the South and Middle Forks of King's River, to the east of Mount Kellogg. The broad, spacious basin it drains abounds in beautiful groves of spruce and silver fir, and small meadows and gardens, where the bear and deer love to feed, but it has been sadly trampled by flocks of sheep.

From Copper Creek to the head of the valley the precipitous portion of the north wall is comparatively low. The most notable features are the North Tower, a square, boldly sculptured outstanding mass two thousand feet in height, and the Dome arches, heavily glaciated, and offering telling sections of domed and folded structure. [See p. 91.] At the head of the valley, in a position corresponding to that of the Half Dome in Yosemite, looms the great Glacier Monument, the broadest, loftiest, and most sublimely beautiful of all these wonderful rocks. It is upward of a mile in height, and has five ornamental summits, and an indescribable variety of sculptured forms projecting or countersunk on its majestic front, all balanced and combined into one symmetrical mountain mass. [See p. 89.]

THE VALLEY FLOOR.

THE bottom of the valley is covered by heavy deposits of moraine material, mostly outspread in comparatively smooth and level beds, though four well-characterized terminal moraines may still be traced stretching across from wall to wall, dividing the valley into sections. These sections, however, are not apparent in general views. Compared with the old Yosemite this is a somewhat narrower valley, the meadows are smaller, and fewer acres if cultivated would yield good crops of fruit or grain. But on the other hand the tree-growth of the new valley is much finer; the sugar-pine in particular attains perfect development, and is a hundred times more abundant, growing on the rough taluses against the walls, as well as on the level flats, and occupying here the place that the Douglass spruce occupies in the old valley. Earthquake taluses, characteristic features of all yosemites, are here developed on a grand scale, and some of the boulders are the largest I have ever seen — more than a hundred feet long, and scarcely less in width and depth.

With the exception of a small meadow on the river bank, a mile or more of the lower end of the valley is occupied by delightful groves, and is called Deer Park. Between Deer Park and the Roaring Fall lies the Manzanita Or