ugh they wore the rough costume of
the miners, it was realized that none of them took mining seriously
or made any pretense of real work with pick and shovel." Mr. Neal knew
James Gillis intimately and admitted he was a great story-teller. In
fact, at the bare mention of his name he broke into a hearty laugh. "Oh,
Jim Gillis, he was a great fellow!" he exclaimed. He said unquestionably
Mark Twain got a good deal of material from him, and feels certain that
Bret Harte must have met him at least on several occasions. Mr. Neal
stated that up to the time of the Midwinter Fair, the output of gold
from Tuolumne county reached the astonishing figures of $250,000,000!
What it has amounted to since that time, I had no means of ascertaining.

It is only twelve miles from Sonora to Tuolumne. From the top of the
divide which separates the valleys there is a beautiful view of the
surrounding country, the dim blue peaks of the Sierra Nevada forming the
eastern sky-line. One of the chief charms of an excursion through
these foothill counties is the certainty that directly you reach any
considerable elevation there will be revealed a magnificent panorama,
bounded only by the limit of vision, range after range of mountains
running up in varying shades of blue and purple, to the far distant
summits that indicate the backbone of California.

Tuolumne is situated in a circular basin rather than in a valley, and
thus being protected from the wind, in hot weather the heat is intense.
If there are any mining operations in the immediate vicinity, they
are not in evidence to the casual observer. It is, however, one of the
biggest timber camps in the State. In the yards of the West Side Lumber
Company, covering several hundred acres, are stacked something like
30,000,000 feet of sugar pine. The logs are brought from the mountains
twenty to twenty-five miles by rail, and sawn into lumber at Tuolumne.
I was told that the bulk of the lumber manufactured here was shipped
abroad, a great deal going to Australia.

Tuolumne, in Bret Harte's time, was called Summersville. It was
destroyed by fire about fourteen years ago, but the new town has already
so assimilated itself to the atmosphere of its surroundings, that its
comparative youth might easily escape detection. Altogether, I was
disappointed with Tuolumne, having expected to find a second Angel's,
owing to its prominence in Bret Harte's stories. A lumber camp, while
an excellent thing in its way