me two miles we rattled through the valley, skirting the eastern
foot-hills; then we struck off to the right, through haugh-land, and
presently, crossing a dry watercourse, entered the Toll road, or, to be
more local, entered on "the grade." The road mounts the near shoulder of
Mount Saint Helena, bound northward into Lake County. In one place it
skirts along the edge of a narrow and deep canyon, filled with trees, and
I was glad, indeed, not to be driven at this point by the dashing Foss.
Kelmar, with his unvarying smile, jogging to the motion of the trap,
drove for all the world like a good, plain, country clergyman at home;
and I profess I blessed him unawares for his timidity.

Vineyards and deep meadows, islanded and framed with thicket, gave place
more and more as we ascended to woods of oak and madrona, dotted with
enormous pines. It was these pines, as they shot above the lower wood,
that produced that pencilling of single trees I had so often remarked
from the valley. Thence, looking up and from however far, each fir
stands separate against the sky no bigger than an eyelash; and all
together lend a quaint, fringed aspect to the hills. The oak is no baby;
even the madrona, upon these spurs of Mount Saint Helena, comes to a
fine bulk and ranks with forest trees; but the pines look down upon the
rest for underwood. As Mount Saint Helena among her foot-hills, so these
dark giants out-top their fellow-vegetables. Alas! if they had left the
redwoods, the pines, in turn, would have been dwarfed. But the redwoods,
fallen from their high estate, are serving as family bedsteads, or yet
more humbly as field fences, along all Napa Valley.

A rough smack of resin was in the air, and a crystal mountain purity. It
came pouring over these green slopes by the oceanful. The woods sang
aloud, and gave largely of their healthful breath. Gladness seemed to
inhabit these upper zones, and we had left indifference behind us in the
valley. "I to the hills will lift mine eyes!" There are days in a life
when thus to climb out of the lowlands seems like scaling heaven.

As we continued to ascend, the wind fell upon us with increasing
strength. It was a wonder how the two stout horses managed to pull us up
that steep incline and still face the athletic opposition of the wind,
or how their great eyes were able to endure the dust. Ten minutes after
we went by, a tree fell, blocking the road; and even before us leaves
were thickly strewn, an