known
and long-famous resort. Forty-five years ago, or more, Capt. W.W.
Latham built the famous State Line House at this point, and twenty
years ago it came into the hands of its present owners.

This is the most easterly of all the resorts and settlements at the
south end of Lake Tahoe. It is in California, in El Dorado County,
though its post-office is Stateline, the dividing line between
California and Nevada. The Park is over 2000 acres in extent and has
already become the nucleus for a choice summer residence section.

Leaving Lakeside Park the steamer now turns northward and follows the
eastern or Nevada shore, until Cave Rock is passed and Glenbrook is
reached. This is the only resort on that side of Lake Tahoe. Once the
scene of an active, busy, lumber town, where great mills daily turned
out hundreds of thousands of feet of timber for the mines of Virginia
City and the building up of the great historic mining-camps of Nevada,
the magic of change and of modern improvements has swept away
every sign of these earlier activities and left Glenbrook a quiet,
delightful, restful resort, nestling in its own wide and expansive
meadows at the foot of towering mountains that give a rich and
contrasting background for the perennial beauty of the Lake.
Practically all that remains to remind one of the old days are the
remnants of the logging piers and cribs, the school-house, the quiet
"City of Those who are Gone," and further up the hills, the old
railroad grade on which the logs were carried to the mill and the
lumber taken through the tunnel, which still remains, to the flume by
which it was further conveyed to the railroad at Carson City.

Immediately to the right of Glenbrook, as the steamer heads for the
wharf, can be seen the celebrated Shakspeare Rock. John Vance Cheney,
the poet, thus describes it:

No sooner had the steamer been made fast than a ledge of rocks
was pointed out to us, rising precipitously some distance from
the pier. "Can't you see it?" again and again asked our guide,
renewing his endeavor to dispel our distressing stupidity.
At length "it" appeared to us, and we stood mute with
astonishment. There, on the front of a bold cliff, graven with
all the care of the best copies with which we are familiar,
looked down upon us the face of Shakspeare! As if in
remembrance of her favorite son, here in this far wild region,
nature had caused his features, cut in ev