rtant are those of the Napa Valley. First among
these, at the greatest distance from the volcano (if we may be allowed
to call it so), is the soda spring of Napa, a cold spring, greatly
resembling in flavor the water of the Congress Spring at Saratoga.
Passing up the Napa Valley, we find a tepid sulphur spring near St.
Hellon's, known as the 'White Sulphur Spring,' being strongly
impregnated with that mineral, and tasting much like the famous 'White
Sulphur' of Virginia. Its waters, however, are slightly warm, and,
although stronger than those of the 'Warm Springs' of the Blue Ridge, a
basin as clear and buoyant as that could easily be made.

This spring is owned by Mr. Alstrom, of the Lick House, at San
Francisco, and, being in a charming valley, is fast becoming the most
popular watering place on the Pacific coast. About twelve miles beyond
the Sulphur Springs are the 'Hot Springs,' which resemble the
description just given of the Icelandic Geysers--the little
geysera--there being the same quaking bog around them, which emits steam
to the tread, and the surface being scabby, like an old salt meadow
under a midsummer sun. These waters are scalding hot, but are pure,
excepting a trace of iron. If they have been analyzed, the writer has
not seen the results.

The Devil's Canon lies about fifteen miles beyond the Hot Springs, and
in the heart of a wild, mountainous country, difficult of access, and
barren of vegetation, except of the most hardy character, such as the
manzanita and Californian oak. Molten mercury, pure and rich, is found
in the crevices of the rocks. Quartz and basalt are freely met with, and
on Geyser Peak disintegrating lava.

Here the road attains an elevation of three thousand feet, and on either
hand are broad and fertile valleys, with rivers winding through them,
the Russian River valley and the Napa being the most beautiful beneath,
while before us are gorges and barren hills, that rise above each other
in picturesque confusion.

The first view of the Devil's Canon is obtained from one of these
desolate hills. At our very feet, fully two thousand feet below,
seemingly a sheer descent, rises a little column of smoke or vapor, and
the opposing hills, which rise abruptly to the height of a thousand
feet, seem cleft by a narrow chasm, the sides of which and the
neighboring hillside seem to have been burnt over by fire, and baked of
many colors, like the neighborhood of an old brick kiln. Any one who