ichen, stretched their boughs
in fantastic frenzies. Gray fringes of moss hung from them, and
tangled screens of clematis and wild grape caught the sunlight in
their flickering meshes or lay over mounds of foliage like a torn
green veil. * * *

For nearly two miles the carriage drive wound upward through this
sylvan solitude. As it approached the house a background of emerald
lawns shone through the interlacing branches, and brilliant bits of
flower beds were set like pieces of mosaic between gray trunks.

GERALDINE BONNER,
in _The Pioneer._

JULY 16.

The Yellow Pine is the most abundant and widely distributed tree of
the forests of California and is particularly characteristic of the
Sierra Nevada, where it attains its finest development. The largest
trees most commonly grow along the ridges and it is the ridges which
the trails ordinarily follow. Here the traveler may journey day after
day, over needle-carpeted or grassy ground, mostly free of underbrush,
amidst great clean shafts 40 to 150 feet high, of really massive
proportions but giving a sense of lightness by reason of their color,
symmetry, and great height. No two trunks in detail of bark are
modeled exactly alike, for each has its own particular finish; so it
is that the eye never wearies of the fascination of the Yellow Pine
but travels contentedly from trunk to trunk and wanders satisfyingly
up and down their splendid columns--the finest of any pine.

W.L. JEPSON,
in _Silva of California._

JULY 17.

MENDOCINO.

A vast cathedral by the western sea,
Whose spires God set in majesty on high,
Peak after peak of forests to the sky,
Blended in one vast roof of greenery.
The nave, a river broadening to the sea:
The aisles, deep canyons of eternal build;
The transepts, valleys with God's splendor filled;
The shrines, white waterfalls in leaf-laced drapery;
The choir stands westward by the sounding shore;
The cliffs like beetling pipes set high in air;
Roll from the beach the thunders crashing there;
The high wind-voices chord the breakers' roar;
And wondrous harmonies of praise and prayer
Swell to the forest altars evermore.

LILLIAN H. SHUEY,
in _Among the Redwoods._

JULY 18.

They were passing an orange-grove, and they entered a road bordered
with scarlet geraniums that wound for a mile through eucalyptus trees,
past artificial lakes where mauve water-lilies floated in the sun, and
boats langu