m the pens of those who feel an unctuous joy in painting
the lily, kalsomining the calla, and adding perfumes to the violet, the
rose, and the orange.

The "Pasadena Alps" are so smeared with oleaginous gush that I had
conceived against them a sort of antipathy, which was not diminished by
their barren, treeless appearance.

As Nature reasserted herself, this artificial nausea wore away. I took a
drive to Millard's Canon, and was surprised at finding a charming wooded
road winding up through the canon along a mountain stream. From the end
of the carriage-road we walked half a mile to a picturesque waterfall
having a sheer descent of perhaps forty feet.

This revelation inspired a drive to Eaton's Canon, where I found similar
attractions, and which led me to the new Mt. Wilson trail, or "Toll
Road." I made inquiries, inspected the small but substantial mules which
do the pedestrian part of the trip, went up the trail a short distance,
and, after many assurances, arranged to make the ascent.

In fact, this trail is remarkably well built. It winds up the mountain
by a gradual and even ascent of nine miles, the grade nowhere exceeding
ten per cent. There are two camps near the summit, open all the year.
You may return the same day or stay for the remainder of your life.

Take little luggage, of course: a heavy overcoat or wrap, and a small
grip. In the winter the nights are cold, and clouds and rain are not
unlikely to present the compliments of the season.

The mountains of California are as topsy-turvy as its rivers. We used
to learn in our physical geographies that as the traveller ascends a
mountain the large trees continually give place to smaller--shrinking at
last to stunted shrubs, with a summit of barren rock.

As our mules plod up Mt. Wilson, the trail at first is sandy, and the
mountain's flanks a barren waste, with thin covering of cactus and
chaparral. Half a mile from the starting-point appear small bushes,
which grow larger as we move upward. The trail turns into a canon, and
becomes a hard, cool pathway leading up through small live-oaks and high
growth of bushes. We begin to see slender pines and larger oaks. Now the
trail leaves the canon and winds out upon the open mountain-side. Here
the chaparral is green and flourishing.

We wind abruptly into a canon. Bushes of wild lilac overhang the path.
The manzanita reminds one of lilies of the valley transplanted to
California and growing on a bush. Down