t buttoned up to the throat, and high
silk hat which was not made for stage travel, was Bishop Bowne. His
temper seemed unruffled by the vexations of the day as he remarked,
"Magnificent scenery. Makes me think of Lake Como, only lacks the
lake. Regular amphitheater of mountains. Reminds one of the Psalmist's
description of Jerusalem." Darting here and there, trying to get
snap-shots, were two "kodak fiends," two city girls who pointed the
thing at you, bungled over it, reset it, pressed the button, and
giggled as they flew off. They fairly bubbled over with delight as
they saw Job, and debated how much to offer to get him to sit for a
scene of rustic simplicity out by the toll-gate.

But Job was too busy to notice. He was being systematically
interviewed by the fat, fussy woman in black who was asking him,
"S'pose you've seen Pike's Peak, the Garden of the Gods, and Colorado
Springs? Great place; we spent a whole half day there. No? Been to
Monterey, of course, round the drive? We did it! Foggy, couldn't see a
blessed thing; but it's fine; had to do it. What! never been there?
Too bad, young man. Oh, there's nothing like doing the world. I've
seen Paris, Rome, the Alps, Egypt. Oh, my! I couldn't tell how much!
Sarah Bell, she knows; she's got it down in her note-book. Dear me! I
must go and see what time we can start back for this place over
there--what do you call it? Some Cemet'ry?"

"Yosemite," suggested Job.

"Oh, yes, Yosemitry. We ought to go right back to-morrow. We've got to
do Alaska in this trip, or we'll never hear the end of it when we get
back East. Nothing like doing the world, young man," said she, as she
adjusted her bonnet and eye-glasses and hurried off to the office,
where he heard her an hour later lamenting, "Sarah Bell, we have got
to stay a whole precious day in that Cemet'ry before we can go back!"

It was late when the babble of voices died away, the stars kept watch
through the tall pines of Wawona, and Job fell asleep to the piping of
the frogs in the pond back of the hotel and the pawing of horses in
the long barn across the square.

[Illustration: Yosemite Valley from Inspiration Point]

"Inspiration Point!" called out the driver, as Job pulled up Bess the
next day alongside the stage as it stood on the summit of that spot
where the road from Wawona, which for miles has climbed up through the
forest past Chinquapin and many a stage station, climbs still higher
through the rare air of