count on one hand the number of men who have explored the whole
length of the Grand Canyon--200 miles--and hundreds of the lesser canyons
that strike off sidewise from Grand Canyon are still unexplored and
unexploited. Then, when you cross the Continental Divide and come on
down to the Angeles Forests in from Los Angeles, and the Cleveland in
from San Diego, you are in a poor-man's paradise so far as a camp
holiday is concerned. For $3 a week you are supplied with tent, camp kit
and all. If there are two of you, $6 a week will cover your holiday; and
forty cents by electric car takes you out to your stamping ground. An
average of 200 people a month go out to one or other of the Petrified
Forests. From Flagstaff, 100 people a month go in to see the cliff
dwellings. Not less than 30,000 people a year visit the Grand Canyon and
100,000 people yearly camp and holiday in the Angeles and Cleveland
Forests. And we are but at the beginning of the discovery of our own
Western Wonderland. Who shall say that the National Forests are not the
People's Playground of _all_ America; that they do not belong to the
East as much as to the West; that East and West are not alike concerned
in maintaining and protecting them?

You strike into the Petrified Forests from Adamana or Holbrook. Adamana
admits you to one section of the petrified area, Holbrook to
another--both equally marvelous and easily accessible. If you go out in
a big tally-ho with several others in the rig, the charge will be from
$1.50 to $2.50. If you hire a driver and fast team for yourself, the
charge will be from $4 to $6. Both places have hotels, their charges
varying from $1 and $1.50 in Holbrook, to $2 and $2.50 at Adamana. The
hotel puts up your luncheon and water keg, and the trips can be made,
with the greatest ease in a day.

Don't go to the Petrified Forests expecting thrills of the big
knock-you-down variety! To go from the spacious glories of the boundless
Painted Desert to the little 2,000-acre area of the Petrified Forests is
like passing from a big Turner or Watts canvas in the Tate Gallery,
London, to a tiny study in blue mist and stars by Whistler. If you go
looking for "big" things you'll come away disappointed; but if like
Tennyson and Bobby Burns and Wordsworth, "the flower in the crannied
wall" has as much beauty for you as the ocean or a mountain, you'll come
away touched with the mystery of that Southwestern Wonderland quite as
much as if you had co