■ '1^ \ )lwi USlNwi ^ ANNOUNCEMENT. 'T^HIS book is wholly devoted to a description of Western scenes. It is a trustworthy descriptive book of travel, unencumbered with statistics or itineraries. It is hoped, however, that a perusal of its pages will create a desire to visit the scenes described. The reader who wishes to know something specifically about the cost and other details of such a journey is respectfully requested to con- sult a representative of the Santa Fe Lines. A list of agents is given on reverse side. Excursion tickets for the round trip to California over the Santa Fe are on sale at all times of the year in principal offices through- out the country. The fares are low, and liberal provisions are made for stop-overs and final-return limit, allowing ample time for a prolonged stay at the many points of interest en route. The trains of the Santa Fe are confidently recommended to a discriminating traveling public as unsurpassed in the important items of speed, safety, and luxurious equipment. The dining-car and dining-room service is unrivaled. The employes are uni- formly courteous. W. J. BLACK, Passeiijjer Traffic Manager, The Atchison, Tcpeka & Sanla Ke Railway System. < iiirAGO, .TiintiMry, li)14. SANTA FE TICKET OFFICES. ATCHISON, Kan., 210 Simpson Bldg F. W. MYERS, Generul Agent. ATIM^NTA. aa-.HN. Pryor St JNO. D. OAKTEK, Southern Passenger Agent. PAUL E. UOOEHS, Traveling Passenger Age: R. M. PIERPONT.XravelingpHssenKerAgon BEAUMONT, Tex., New Crosby Hotel. ...T. M. GAUNTT, City Passenger Agent. BOSTON, Mass., 336 Washington St S. W. MANNING, General New England Agen H. M. ELKTCHER, Passenger Agent. M. H. GAGE, Traveling Agent. F. G. RANNEy, Traveling Agent. BUFFALO, N.V.,2ai Ellicott Sq. Bldg. ..PETER PALM ATEER, Passenger Agent. OHIOAGO. lll.,M Weet Adams St Gf:0. T. GUNNLP, General Agt. Passenger De F. R. CONNELL, Mgr. Cal. Tourist Service. THUS.W. CONWAY. Traveling Passenger Age L. N. NELSON, City Passenger Agent. Dearborn Station .J. Q. ADAMS, Dopot Passenger Agent. 1119 Railway Exchange C. L. SE.-VGRAVES, General Colonization Ag OINOTNNATI, Ohio, 209 Traction Bldg...F. G. BURNEi'T, General Agent Passenger D< CLYDE HILL, Traveling Passenger Agent. OLEBUBNE, Texas ...EARL KIRKPATRIOK, City Passenger Agen' CLEVELAND, O., 28 Taylor Arcade A.J.KENNEDY, Passenger Agent. COLO. SP'GS. U8 E. Pike's Peak Ave C. C. HOYT, City Passenger Agent. DALLlAS, Tex., 1205 Mnin St OHAS. L. HOLLAND, City Passenger Agent. J. P. WRIGHT, Traveling Passenger Agent. DENVER, Oolo.. 601 nth St J. P.HALL, General Agent Passenger Dept. A. A. OTT, City Passenger Agent. N. F. JOHNSON, Traveling Pa.ssenger Agent. W. S. BURDIOK, Traveling Passenger Agent. DES MOINES, Iowa, 315 7th St SAMUEL LARIMER, Gen'l Agent Pass'rDep C. A. MOORE, Traveling Passenger Agent. _ J. 0. BATHAM, Traveling Passenger Agent. DETROIT, Mich., 151 Gnswold St F. T. HENDRY, General Agent Pusseuger Dei T,^ ^.„^ ™, „.„ T,.. ,,.„ . G. Q. ROBERTSON, Passenger Agent. EL PASO, Tex., Mills Bldg., Mills and Oregon Sts W.R.BROWN, Division Passenger Agent. J. 8. MORRISSON, City Ticket Agent. G. H. DONART. Traveling Passenger Agent. W. A. CAMERON, Traveling PaRsenger Agent, FT. WORTH, Tex., 702 Houston St T. P. FENELON. City Passenger Agent. FRESNO, Gal, 2040 Tulare Street H. B. GREGORY, General Agent. GALVESTON, Tex.. 224TremontSt MAX NAUMANN, Gen'l Agent Passenger Det HONG KONG, CHINA, King's Bldg.... GEO. H. CORSE, Jr.. Gen. Pass'r Agt.. San Fl Cisco Overland Route. HONOLULU. T. H THEO. H. DAVIES & CO., Ltd. HOUSTON, Tex., 9W Texas Ave J. R. GREENHILL. City Passenger Agent. KANSAS OITY^, Mo., 'J05 Main St GEO. W. HAGSINBITCH, Gen'l Agent Pass'r De T. A. WOL(!OTr. Traveling Passenger Agent G. B. NEWMAN, City Passenger Agent. Room?, Union Depot... L. B.SMITH, Traveling Passenger Agent. Room 7, Union Depot... E. O. OTT, Depot Passenger Agent. LE.A.VENWORTH, Kan., 406 Delaware St.N. E. MANN, General Agent. LONDON, Eng., 6U Hayraarket HENRY V. ELKINS, General European Ageni LONG HE.iCH, Cal., 4 Pine Ave E. W.McGEE, Gen'l Agent, Passenger Dept. LOS ANGELES, Cal.,S!«So. Spring St... E. W. McGEE, General Agent Passenger Dept. E. R. GREGORY, Traveling Passenger Agent. MEXICO CITY. Max., Avenida del Cinco e ^ n. deMavoS W. 8. FABN8W0RTH, General Agent. MINNEAPOLIS Minn., 503 Metropolitan Life Bldg 0. 0. C.ARPENTER.Gen'l Agt., Pass'r Dept. MONTEaEY, N. L. Mex„ Apartado 321 ..HARRY C. ARCHER, Trav. Passenger Agent. MONTREAL, Quebec, 83 St. James St. .. .D. W. HATOil. Traveling Agent. NEW ORLEANS, La., 223 St. Charles St...W. L. McWHIRTER, General Agent. NEWYORK CITY, 377 and 12»t Broadway. GEO. 0. DiLLARD, General Eastern Pass'r A| W. F. MILLER, City Passenger Agent. CLARENCE E. EA'fON, Traveling Pass'r Agen OAKLAND, Cal.. 1218 Broadway J. J. WARNER, General Agent. OKLAHOMA err Y,Okla.,S.F. Depot.... THOS. BOYLAN, Passenger Agent. PEiJHlA. 111., J25 Main St O. H. THOMAS, Passenger Agent. PHILADELPHIA, Pa., 711 Chestnut St.. .S. B. ST. JOHN, GeneralAgent. R. B.VANDKGRIFT, Traveling Passenger Age PHOENIX, Ariz W. S. GOLDSW ORTHY' G. A.,S. F. P.& P. Line PITTSBURGH, Pa., 405 Park Building. ..F. E. SHELLABERGER, General Agent. CARLTON H. BEACH, Passenger Agent. PORTLAND, Ore., 122 Third St H. E. VERNON, General Agent. „„„„^ „ „ A. R. ANDFJRSON, Traveling Passenger Agent PUEBLO, Colo., 225 North Union Ave C. G. NIKIRK, City Ticket Agent. RIVEKSIDE, Cal., Mission Inn J. H. BAUMAN, Agent. ROCK ]Sr,.VND, 111., 210 18th St H. D. MACK, GeneralAgent. SACRAMENTO, Cal. 1024 8th St T. H. WARRINGTON, General Agent. tT.JOSEPH, Mo., 114 South Fifth St ....GEO. BUTTERLY, City Passenger Agent. T. LOUIS, Mo., 209 N. 7th St GEO. C. CHAMBKRS, Gen'l Agent Pass. Dept GEO. R. BATNTER, City Passenger Agent. „ ,„ , „ F.K. SMITH, Traveling Passenger Agent. SALT LAKE CITY, Utah, Room 233 > E. R. LEIS, General Agent. Ju.lgo Bldg J.J. .T. DEVEREUX, Traveling Agent. SAN ANTONIO, Tex., 101 W. Commerce St.EVERETT H. DALLAS, District Pass'r Agent. SAN BERNARDINO, Cal., 3d and F St8..W. R. DOWLER, General Agent. SAN DIEGO, Cal., Grant Hotel Bldg S. C. PAYSON, GeneralAgent. SAN FRANCISCO, Cat, 673 Market St. ...J. B. I>UEFY, General Agent Passenger Dept. LOUIS R. EVERETT. City Passenger Agent. „.„,„„^„, _ JAS. F. MOSES, City Ticket Agent. 8AN.JOSE, Cal., 28 E.Santa Clara St H. R. STKRNE, General Agent. SANTA BARB.AR.\,Oal., 812 State St W. B. FRI.SBII"?, GeneralAgent. STOCKTON. Cal H. E. SHRYOCK, Agent. SYDNEY, Australia, 44 Pitt St V.A. SPROUL, Aust. Mgr., Oceanic S. 8. Oe. TEMPLE. Tex H. Y. WILf JAMS, Traveling Passenger Agent rOPEKA, Kan., A. T. & S. F. General {W.J. CURTIS, District Passenger Agent. .„,„ Office Building J GLENN EDDIE. Passen(?er Agent. WICHITA. Kan., Santa Fe Depot E. 0. MORI ARTY, City Passenger Agent. YOKOHAMA, Japan, 4 Water St GEO. H. CORSE. Jr., G. P. A., San Francisco Overland Route. TO CALIFORNIA Over the Santa Fe Trail TO CALIFORNIA Over the Santa Fe Trail by C. A. Higgins Illustrations by J. T. McCutcheon, Carl N. Werntz, John W. Norton and James Allen McCracken Passenger Department, Santa Fe Chicago, 1914 Copyright, 1907, By W. J. Black, Three Hundred and Seventy-fourth Thousand, Revised Edition. ^^yfUf^' ■'■••<, Ad. 796. 1-10-14. lOM. CONTENTS. I. East of the Rockiks 7 II. New Mexico 23 RATON TO LAS VEGAS 3 1 LAS VEGAS TO ALBUQUERQUE 34 SANTA FE 38 PUEBLOS 44 III. Arizona 53 ALBUQUERQUE TO NEEDLES 57 PETRIFIED FORESTS 6 1 HOPIS 65 CANYON DIABLO 70 FLAGSTAFF 7 1 SAN FRANCISCO PEAKS 73 GRAND CANYON OF ARIZONA 77 CLIFF AND CAVE DWELLINGS 87 CENTRAL AND SOUTHERN ARIZONA 89 IV. Southern California 96 THE world's treasure VAULT 98 SOUTH of CAJON PASS ICO of CLIMATE 103 SAN DIEGO AND VICINITY 112 PANAMA-CALIFORNIA EXPOSITION 122 CAPISTRANO 125 STORY OF THE MISSIONS 127 LOS ANGELES 135 PASADENA 148 MOUNT LOWE I51 THE KITE-SHAPED TRACK 152 SEASIDE RESORTS 161 SANTA CATALINA ISLAND 1 65 SANTA BARBARA 169 OSTRICH FARMING I72 WINTER SPORTS 173 A LAND OF FLOWERS 1 77 V. Central California iSo SAN FRANCISCO 184 PANAMA-PACIFIC INTERNATIONAL EXPOSITION . I93 OAKLAND 197 SUBURBAN SAN FRANCISCO 20I A PACIFIC TOUR 203 COAST LINE 206 YOSEMITE VALLEY 211 KINGS RIVER CANYON 2 17 GOOD ROADS IN CALIFORNIA 221 THE RETURN VIA OGDF.N 221 SPANISH NAMES (MEANING AND pronunciation) . 227 MAP SANTA FE SYSTEM ..."..... 2'?2 353911) THE OLD SANTA FE TRAIL. It wound through strange scarred hills, down canyons lone Where wild things screamed, with winds for company ; Its milestones were the bones of pioneers. Bronzed, haggard men, often with thirst a-moan, Lashed on their beasts of burden toward the sea : An epic quest it was of elder years, For fabled gardens or for good, red gold, The trail men strove in iron days of old. To-day the steam god thunders through the vast. While dominant Saxons from the hurtling trains Smile at the aliens, Mexic, Indian, Who offer wares, keen-colored, like their past : Dread dramas of immitigable plains Rebuke the softness of the modern man ; No menace, now, the desert's mood of sand ; Still westward lies a green and golden land. For, at the magic touch of water, blooms The wilderness, and where of yore the yoke Tortured the toilers into dateless tombs, Lo! brightsome fruits to feed a mighty folk. — Richard Burton in The Century I. EAST OF THE ROCKIES. THE California trains of the Santa Fe (except the CaHfornia Fast Mail) leave Chicago either in early evening, or at a later hour, when most travelers are ready to retire to the seclusion of their berths. In either event the earliest stages of the journey ofifer little of interest to the tourist aside from the drainage canal, whose white rock- debris closely parallels the way for thirty miles. The same natural conditions which made the Chicago River a favored route for the early explorers made possible the creation of this most remarkable of civic sanitary undertakings. The low water- shed over which Marquette, Joliet, La Salle and their fellows dragged light canoes, from the head waters of the Chicago River to those flowing south- westward to the Mississippi, has been penetrated by the great canal. It is literally true, therefore, that the current of the Chicago River has been diverted from its natural direction into Lake Michi- gan, and now flows by way of its source, " uphill." The primary incentive for this stupendous under- 7 taking was the desire to divert the drainage of the city from its outflow into Lake Michigan, where it contaminated that noble water supply. Inciden- tally, however, as a result of the work, a capacious ship channel has been formed, connecting the basin of the Great Lakes with the Mississippi River. While no commercial advantage has been taken of this new trade route as yet, river improvements now under way will remove the final obstacle to direct navigation between the lakes and the great river. This drainage canal is one of those rare achievements in which figures tell a dramatic story. The total cost of the enterprise from the beginning to the end approximates $40,000,000. The canal was begun September 3, 1892, and in January of 1900 the water of Lake Michigan was turned into it to find a new way to the ocean. The length of the main channel is 28.5 miles, the depth of water 22 feet, the width from 162 feet to 290 feet, and the total amount of excavation 42,397,904 cubic yards. The present capacity is 300,000 cubic feet per minute, and this flow will be materially increased by the river improvements. By day the adjacent country appears a level or mildly undulating region, rich in agricultural prod- ucts, and relieved by bits of stream and woodland and by small villages, with here and there a con- siderable city, such as Joliet, and Streator and Galesburg, and important rivers, such as the Illinois, which is crossed near Chillicothe. It is greater than the whole of England and Wales, this State ^qacur. of Illinois, but a very few hours' ride is sufficient to bring one to its western boundary, the Missis- sippi River. This is crossed at Fort Madison on an eight-span drawbridge 1,925 feet long. The back- water from the great electric power dam at Keokuk is here plainly evident. The way continues across the narrow southeastern corner of Iowa into Mis- souri. While gliding through Missouri the traveler awakes to the sight of a rolling country of distant horizons, swelling here and there to considerable hills, checkered with tilled fields and frequent farm- houses, divided by numerous water-courses and dense groves of deciduous trees. Not one whose scenic features you would travel far to see, but gratifying to the eye. La Plata is the highest point between Chicago and Kansas City. Just east of CarroUton the w^ide valley of the tawny Missouri is entered, which river the Santa Fe follows to Kansas City. At the new double-track Sibley bridge (two-fifths of a mile long and 135 feet high) across the Missouri River the swift sand-laden volume of this famed stream flows far below the level of the eye, and there is wide outlook upon either hand. On the farther side the way skirts bold bluffs for a considerable dis- tance by the side of the picturesque river that is reminiscent of the days of steamboat commerce. Then comes Kansas City. From Chicago to Kansas City and beyond, to Newton, Kan., the line of the Santa Fe is double- tracked all the way — a fact which makes for safe and speedy travel. The Belen cut-off, from Newton to Albuquerque, practically makes a two-track railroad for that section ; extra trackage is being laid west of Albuquerque. Eventually the Santa Fe's main line through to California will thus be duplicated, greatly increasing efficiency of service. There was a time when Kansas City was famed almost entirely for its live stock industry, its great packing houses, and its grain market. These en- terprises have been growing year by year, but they no longer dominate the commercial life of this metropolis of the Missouri Valley. A great rail- way, manufacturing and distributing center, Kansas City holds an important place in the business activ- ities of the whole Southwest. Its rapid growth is uninterrupted, the present population, counting that portion over in Kansas, being upwards of 400,000. Its people are energetic and practical in their civic loyalty. The Kansas border lies just beyond, the entrance to that State leading by the serpentine course of the river of the same name through a wooded landscape to the open prairie. Kansas City is not the only gateway by which the Santa Fe enters Kansas, although it is by this route that the transcontinental trains travel. St. Joseph, in Missouri, and Atchison and Leavenworth, in Kansas, are Missouri River cities, all reached by connecting lines of the same system, and all famous in the early history of the region. St. Joseph was an important point of exchange between the river traffic and that of the overland route to Denver and the Rocky Mountains. Atchison was the initial point of the Santa Fe Railway system itself, as originally planned, and gave its name to the great railway. Leavenworth was one of the early military posts of the great West, and is still known as the seat of Fort Leavenworth. All cf these are flourishing cities, with important local industries. The eastern boundary of the billowy surface of Kansas was along the shore of the most stubborn wilderness of our possession. The French fur- traders were the first to establish footing of civiliza- tion in this State, the greater portion of which came to us as part of the Louisiana purchase. More than seventy years ago Fort Leavenworth was created to give military protection to the haz- ardous trade with Santa Fe, and the great overland exodus of Argonauts to California at the time of the gold discovery was by way of that border sta- tion. The first general settlement of its eastern part was in the heat of the factional excitement that led to the Civil War. It was the scene of bloody encounters between free-soil and pro-slavery colonists, and of historic exploits by John Brown and the guerrilla Quantrell. In the space of one A Santa Fe Dining Room ^ University of Kansas generation it has been transformed as by a miracle. The very Lawrence, whose name for years called to mind the horrors of the Quantrell raid and the massacre of its defenseless citizens, is now the most flourishing of peaceful towns, the seat of the Uni- versity of Kansas and of the famous Haskell Insti- tute, a noteworthily successful school for Indians. The vast plains whereon the Indian, antelope and buffalo roamed supreme are now counted as the second most important agricultural area of the Union, and its uncultivated tracts sustain millions of cattle, mules and horses. Vigorous young cities are seen at frequent intervals. Topeka, with its broad avenues and innumerable shade trees, is one of the prettiest capitals of the West ; here are the general offices and principal shops of the Santa Fe, and several imposing State edifices. Between Law- rence and Topeka the train passes historic Lecomp- ton, the early territorial capital of Kansas — once a strenuous pro-slavery stronghold, to-day a quiet country village. The neighborhood of Newton and Burrton is the home of Mennonites, a Russian sect that fled to America from the domain of the Czar to find relief from oppression. Newton was in pioneer days a big shipping point on the cattle drive from Texas. The Capitol, Topeka {^1I'<^/N-^ University of Kansas. At Hutchinson (noted for its salt industry and for its Tudoresque station hotel, The Bisonte) one enters western Kansas, and from this point for a long distance the road follows the windings of the Arkansas River, with only occasional digressions. Dodge City, of cowboy fame, and Garden City, the scene of Government experiments in agricul- ture, are the chief centers of this district. East of Great Bend are the ruins of old Fort Zarah. Paw- nee Rock, further west, derives its name from a high rock north of the little station, where many fierce Indian battles were fought, and where Gen. Hancock, Gen. Robert E. Lee and Kit Carson made noteworthy visits. Opposite Larned, on an island in the river, a fierce battle occurred in 1870 between hostile Cheyennes and Arapahoes. The Santa Fe Trail, mentioned in New Mexico chapter, began at Westport (now Kansas City), following the Kaw River to Lawrence, thence over the hills to Burlingame and Council Grove — the Arkansas Valley being reached at Fort Zarah (now Great Bend). The trail crept up this valley to Bent's Fort (now Las Animas), and climbed the mountains through Raton Pass. There was a short cut from Fort Dodge to Las Vegas, along the Cimarron River; its Kansas section now is closely followed by a new extension of Santa Fe 13 rails. It is not so long ago since Comanches and Pawnees made almost every toilsome mile of the slow passage through Kansas dangerous for the wagon trains that wound slowly across the plains, laden with the traffic for the southwest. Except the trains were heavily guarded by military escorts, they were subject to frequent attacks by day and night. The stories of those days make picturesque reading now. Colorado first presents itself as a plateau, ele- vated 4,000 feet above the sea, railway and river continuing as close neighbors through the gently ascending plains. The Arkansas Valley, all the way from east of Garden City to La Junta and beyond, is in sum- mer comparable to a two-hundred-mile-long green ribbon stretched loosely across the wide gray prai- rie. Its alfalfa fields, melon patches, beet sugar acres and thrifty towns are proof that irrigation pays, there being a never-failing supply of water for these fertile lands. Garden City, Holly, Lamar, Las Animas, La Junta and Rocky Ford are the centers of this irrigated district, a bit of pastoral prosperity in pleasing contrast with the grim and forbidding mountains soon to be ventured. Six factories have been built for the production of sugar from beets — one each at Rocky Ford, Lamar, Holly, Swink, Garden City and Sugar City. They were erected at a cost of several million dol- lars and their daily capacity is about 5,000 tons of beets. This convenient market is stimulating the raising of sugar beets throughout the whole valley, so that the cultivation of the succulent vegetable has become one of the most important of local industries. Four miles west of Holly, and consequently just over the Colorado line, is the little colony estab- lished by the Salvation Army in 1898, under the name of Fort Amity. As a measure of practical benefit to certain elements in the crowded quar- ters of the great cities, the Salvation Army obtained 1,800 acres of land here and settled upon it 250 colonists. Passing Las Animas the tourist is again reminded of the good old days when Kit Carson made Bent's his headquarters, when the Arapahoes, Kio- was and Cheyennes wintered at Big Timbers, and when Fort William (later known as Fort Lyon) afforded security for the frontiersmen in times of unusual danger. Every mile of progress westward carries the traveler into a higher altitude as he approaches the junction of the great plains and the foothills of the Rockies. Soon the landscape begins to give hint of the heroic. Pike's Peak is clearly distinguish- able though a hundred miles distant, and the two beautiful Spanish Peaks hover upon the horizon and reappear long after the first-named has faded from view. Slowly the Raton Range gathers sig- nificance directly ahead, until it becomes a tower- ing wall, at whose foot lies the city of Trinidad. 15 Trinidad (population 10,204) is the center of large coal, coke, iron and wool industries. Here, going west, is the first appearance of adobe archi- tecture. Here also begins the final ascent to the first of many lofty mountain gateways, the Raton Pass. Fisher's Peak is near at hand. Away back in 1540, when that Spanish soldier of fortune, Coronado, traveled through the Southwest, there was in his small band a brave captain, known as Cardenas. The Santa Fe rail- way hotel at Trinidad, managed by Fred Harvey, is named after him. The commodious dining-room of the Cardenas accommodates nearly a hundred guests, and there are thirty-seven sleeping apartments. The edifice is two stories high, substantially built of brick and stone in the impressive old Mission style of archi- tecture, similar to the Castaneda, Alvarado and Escalante elsewhere described. The hotel is beau- tifully furnished throughout, and in the language of the advertisement writer, has "all the modern conveniences." The grade up Raton Pass is remarkably steep, and two powerful mountain engines are required to haul the train at a pace hardly faster than a walk. The vicissitudes of the pass are such that the road winds tortuously in curves so sharp the Hotel Cardenas, at Irimdad wheels shriek at the strain. From the rear vesti- bule may be had an endlessly varied and long continued series of mountain views, for the ascent is no mere matter of a moment. There are level side canyons prettily shaded with aspen, long straight slopes covered with pine, tumbled waves of rock overgrown with chaparral, huge bare cliffs with perpendicular gray or brown faces, conical coke ovens, with their ghostly smoke wreaths, and breaks through which one may look far out across the lower levels to other ranges. A short distance this side the summit stands what is left of the old toll-house, an abandoned and dismantled adobe dwelling, where for many years the veteran Dick Wooten collected toll from those who used the wagon road through the pass. Both ruin and trail are of interest as belonging to the ante-railroad period of thrilling adventure, for by that road and past the site of the dilapidated dwelling journeyed every overland stage, every caravan, every prairie schooner, every emigrant, and every soldier cavalcade bound to the south- western country in early days. Beyond this is a wide-sweeping curve from whose farther side, looking backward down the pass, an inspiring picture is unfolded to view for a passing instant — a farewell glimpse of the poetic Spanish Peaks at the end of a long vista past a ragged foreground of gigantic measure. Then the hills crowd and shut off the outside world; there is a deep sandstone cut, its faces seamed with lay- ers of coal, a boundary post marked upon one side Colorado and upon the other New Mexico, and instantly following that a plunge into a half-mile tunnel of midnight blackness, at an elevation of something more than 7,500 feet. A second tunnel was completed in April, 1908, thus making a double-track over Raton Pass from Trinidad to Raton. The new tunnel is a little lower than the old one (built more than 30 years ago); it is 2,678 feet long, 26 feet high and 17 feet wide; the floor is 7,548 feet above the sea; walls, roof and tw^o air shafts are lined with concrete. In building this tunnel $230,000 was spent for labor alone, and 9,020 different laborers were employed during the thirteen months required forconstruction, the force being replaced seven times. At such a Rubicon the preliminary stages may fairly be said to end. And here, too, a few words may properly be said of the Maxwell Land Grant, a princely domain once owned by the American Fur Company, now belonging to a foreign syndicate. The Santa Fe is built along its eastern edge for sixty miles south of Raton Pass. This rich empire of two million acres is being occupied by miners, farmers and ranchers. A scenic highway, used by autos and carriages, has been built from Trinidad to Raton, up and down Raton Pass, along the old trail. It forms part of the projected interstate road from Cheyenne to El Paso. 18 Many trans-continental travelers, by way of New Mexico and Arizona, break their journey at La Junta, Colorado, and take another Santa Fe train to Denver and back, visiting both Pueblo and Colo- rado Springs. The distance is less than two hun- dred miles, or about a six hours' run when made without stop. The way between La Junta and Pueblo is up the valley of the Arkansas. Rocky Ford, a dozen miles out, is noted for its cantaloupes and watermelons. To be there in early fall, on Watermelon Day, is a feast for the gods. Pueblo is a manufacturing city and the metropolis of southern Colorado, with 44,395 inhabitants. It is the Pittsburgh of the West, for here are iron and steel plants, and extensive smelters. A railroad center, too, and jobbing point, Pueblo's parks, schools and churches compare favorably with those of Eastern cities of twice its population. Canon City is a little ofif the beaten path of travel to Denver. You take a branch train from Pueblo, forty miles west, up the Arkansas Valley. The " Skyline " drive, starting at Canon City, is several miles in length and runs along the top of a ridge hundreds of feet up in the sky. A fine view of the Royal Gorge and of the Sangre de Cristo Range may be had from this vantage point. Turning northward there's a stiff up-grade along Fountain Creek to Colorado Springs and Palmer Lake, a summer resort, which. is half a mile nearer the sky than is the city of smelters. A down-grade run to Denver, and you are still a mile above sea- level. Except near Palmer Lake, the railroad keeps several miles away from the Rampart range of the Rockies; nevertheless, the western horizon is almost shut out by a sheer wall of red rock, green-gowned where the aspens and pines grow, and white-capped in the upper silences, where are the venturesome clouds and peaks. Always the eye is challenged by Pike's Peak, which, just back of Colorado Springs, towers to a height of 14,108 feet. In early days many a slow prairie schooner, headed for that mon- arch of the range, bore the legend " Pike's Peak or bust." Now, in summer, the tourist may ascend that same peak on a cog-road train to cloudland and back in a day, and not be " busted," either. Colorado Springs is much more than a place for summer visitors, though it always will be attractive to that large class of travel, because of altitude and surroundings. Closely neighbored by the Garden of the Gods, Cheyenne Canyons, Manitou and Pike's Peak, it can not escape the pleasant notoriety which nearness to those famed spots necessarily brings. Frankly thankful for the flitting stranger of a day or a week, this city of 30,000 and more inhabitants also appeals to the home lover and busi- ness man. Cripple Creek, just over the range, has left here much of its gold output. Evidences of wealth are on every hand, in fine hotels, luxurious residences and many-acred parks. Denver is the commercial metropolis of the Rocky Mountain region and the capital of Colorado. The population in 1910 was 213,381. It is a clean city and up-to-date. Take a walk through the business district and note the numerous modern blocks, some of them skyscrapers. The hotels are better than those in other much larger cities, and so are the metropolitan dailies. A New Yorker or Bos- tonian feels at home in them. The streets are well paved, well ' sidewalked " and well shaded. Imposing residences abound. When a man makes money in Colorado, he goes to Denver to invest and spend it; result, a very attractive place in every way. The one-day trips from Denver up in the moun- tains are many and of varied charm. Whether you go up South Platte Canyon, or to Georgetown, or ascend the Switzerland Trail of America — always the scenery soon exhausts one's stock of adjectives. Longer journeys may be made to Estes Park, and across the range into northwestern Colorado. Park Scene, Denuer. -^\^:-^ ,/ j, •'W',; ^^■^^^ fti^'F' ;f |,H*'^*i;^ Spanish Peaks II. NEW MEXICO. ALTHOUGH your introduction is by way of a long tunnel, followed by a winding moun- tain pass down whose steep incline the train rushes to regain the low level from which the journey was begun, you will find New Mexico a land in the sky. If its mountain ranges were leveled smoothly over its valleys and plains the entire area of more than 120,000 square miles would stand higher above the sea than the summit of any peak of the Catskills or the Adirondacks. Its broad upland plains, that stretch to a horizon where wintry peaks tower high above the bold salients of gray-mottled foothills, themselves lie at an altitude that in the Eastern States must be sought among the clouds, and at no time will you fall much below an elevation oi 5,000 feet in traversing the portion of the State that lies along the present route. 23 -i^^'^f^ The landscape is oriental in aspect and flushed with color. Nowhere else can you find sky of deeper blue, sunlight more dazzling, shadows more '£^ intense, clouds more luminously white, or stars that "^ throb with redder fire. Here the pure rarefied air that is associated in the mind with arduous moun- tain climbing is the only air known — dry, cool and gently stimulating. Through it, as through a crys- tal, the rich red of the soil, the green of vegetation, and the varied tints of the rocks gleam always freshly on the sight. You are borne over mountains above forests of pine and fir, with transient glimpses of distant prairie; through canyons where fierce rock walls yield grudging passage and massive gray slopes bend downward from the sky : along level stretches by the side of the Great River of the North, whose turbid stream is the Nile of the New World ; past picturesque desert tracts spotted with sage, and past mesas, buttes, dead volcanoes and lava beds. These last are in a region v/here you will see not only mountain craters, with long basaltic slopes that were the ancient flow of molten rock, but dikes as well ; fissures in the level plain through which the black lava oozed and ran for many miles. These vast rivers of rock, cracked, piled, scattered in blocks, and in places overgrown with chaparral, are full of interest, even to the accustomed eye. They wear an appearance of newness, moreover, as if the volcanic action were of recent date ; but there has been found nothing in native tradition 24 i-Y'i'l^ \y ^ytiy- ■-■^'^^ that has any direct bearing upon them. Doubtless they are many centuries old. Geologically their age is of course determinable, but geology deals in rock epochs; it talks darkly of millions of years between events, and in particulars is careful to avoid use of the calendar. It is well to remember that the yesterday of creation is singu- larly barren of mankind. We are practically con- temporaries of Adam in the history of the cosmos, and all of ancient and modern history that lies between is a mere evanescent jumble of trivialities. Dame Nature is a crone, fecund though she be, and hugging to her breast the precious phial of rejuve- nescence. Her face is wrinkled. Her back is bent. Innumerable mutations lie heavy upon her, briskly though she may plot for to-morrow. And nowhere can you find her more haggard and gray than here. You feel that this place has always worn much the same aspect that it wears to-day. Parcel of the arid region, it sleeps only for thirst. Slake that, and it becomes a garden of paradise as by a 25 magic word. The present generation has proved it true in a hundred localities, where the proximity of rivers or mountain streams has made irrigation practicable. The confines of the Great American Desert are narrowing rapidly. Do but reflect that a quarter century back the journey you now make in perfect comfort was a matter of wild adventure, at cost of months of arduous travel and at hazard of life, not only because of human foes, but for scarcity of food and water. One never appreciates the full stride of American progress until he has traversed in a Pullman car such a territory as this, where Valley of Death and Journey of the Dead are names still borne by waterless tracts, and justified by bleached bones of cattle and lonely mounds of scattered graves. Rescued from centuries of horror and planted in the front rank of young rising States by the genius of our generation, New Mexico is aland of broad ranges, where hundreds of thousands of sleek cattle and countless flocks of sheep browse upon the nutritious grasses ; where fields of grain wave in the healthful breeze ; where orchard trees bend under their weight of luscious fruits, and where the rocks lay bare inexhaustible veins of precious metals. Here may be found to-day as profitable large ranches as any in the country, and innumerable small aggregations of cultivated acres, whose owners sit comfortably upon shaded verandas while their 26 servants till the field. This is the paradox of a region whose softer scenes will often seem to be overborne by bleak mountain and desert and lava bed; that if you own ten acres of irrigated land here you are that much-vaunted but seldom en- countered individual, an independent farmer. You may smile in a superior way when you hear talk of the profits of bank stocks. You may look without envy upon the man who is said to own a gold mine. Scattered by the way are sleepy Mexican villages, ancient Indian pueblos, still inhabited, and those older abandoned ruins which give to the region its peculiar atmosphere of mystery. The history of New Mexico formerly began with a pretty legend that dated back to a time in Spain when a sover- eign, fighting amid his native mountains, found himself hemmed in by the enemy, and would have perished with all his army had not one of his enter- prising soldiers discovered an unsuspected pass, the entrance to which he marked with a bleached cow's skull that lay convenient to his hand, and then returning led a retreat through the pass to safety. By order of the grateful king the family name of the soldier was thereupon made Cabeza de Vaca — cow's head — to celebrate so opportune a service. It is to be hoped he got a doubloon or two as well, but on that particular head tradition is silent. However, among the soldier's descend- ants a talent for discovery became a notorious fam- ily trait. It amounted to a passion with them. You could not get into any difficulty but a Cabeza de Vaca could find you a way out. Natu- rally, then, when Narvaez set sail from Spain for the Florida coast, three and a half centuries ago, he took one of that family along for a mascot. The expedition came to grief on the Florida reefs, but the mascot survived, and with him three others who had wisely clung to him when the ship went to pieces. Stranded upon an unknown coast, men- aced by hostile Indians, an ocean behind and a wilderness before, this Cabeza de Vaca felt his heart strangely stirred within him. He gave no thought to the dangers of his situation ; he per- ceived only that he had the opportunity of a life- time to discover something. So, remembering that in far Mexico his fellow countrymen were known to dwell, he pretended to pull a long face and told his companions that to reach the Mexican settlements was the only hope of surviving. Then brandishing his sword in a becoming manner he called to them to come on, and led them across the unexplored con- tinent of North America, in the year of grace 1536, by a route which incidentally included what is now known as New Mexico. Thus, in sub- 28 stance, runs the legend, which adJs that he had a queer tale to tell, on arrival, of Seven Cities of Cibola, and outlandish people of heathen appear- ance and notions, but of temperate and industrious habits withal, and presumably rich in treasures of silver and gold ; which incited Coronado to send out an expedition under Marcos de Nizza in 1539, and a year later himself to take charge of the first real invasion, conquering native towns by force of arms on his way. But in the light of modern historical research Cabeza de Vaca's local fame dwindles; his head diminishes. It is denied that he ever saw New Mexico, and the title of discoverer is awarded to Marcos de Nizza. It does not really matter, for in either event the conquest was by Coronado, in whose footsteps Spanish colonization was first enabled to advance into the region, which, it should be remembered, was for a long time there- after a vaguely defined area of much greater extent than to-day. The friars early began their work of founding missions, and in the course of time estab- lished forty churches, attended by some 30,000 native communicants. These natives revolted in 1680, and drove the Spaniards out of the territory, successfully resisting their return for a period of twelve years. From the time of their ultimate subjection (1692) the country grew in population and commercial importance until, early in the pres- ent century, its trade with Missouri and the East became very valuable. The route traversed by 29 / pack-mules and prairie schooners loaded with mer- chandise will forever be remembered as the Santa Fe Trail, and was almost identical with that fol- lowed by Coronado. It is at present for the greater part of the dis- tance the route of the Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe Railway between the Missouri River and Santa Fe ; and through western Kansas, southeastern Colorado, over the Raton Pass and at many points in New Mexico, may easily be seen from the train. The distance was 8oo miles, and a round trip then consumed IIO days. Merchandise to an enormous value was often carried by a single caravan. In spite of the pro- tection of a strong military escort the trail was almost continuously sodden with human blood and marked by hundreds of rude graves dug for the mutilated victims of murderous Apaches and other tribes. Every scene recounted by romances ^of Indian warfare had its counterpart along the Santa Fe Trail. The ambush, the surprise, the mas- sacre, the capture, the torture, in terrifying and heart-breaking detail, have been enacted over and over. Only with the advent of the railroad did the era of peace and security begin. To-day the Apache is decimated and harmless, and,.with the Pueblo Indian and the Mexican, forms a romantic background to a thriving Anglo-Saxon civilization. It is this background that gives New Mexico its peculiar charm to the thoughtful tourist; not alone 30 its tremendous mountain ranges, its extensive uplands, its fruitful valleys, or its unsurpassed equa- bility of climate. Its population includes 9,500 Pueblo Indians, 4,000 Navahos and 1,350 Apaches. RATON TO LAS VEGAS. The Culebra and Cimarron ranges of the Rockies shut in the lower western sky as the train whirls along southward from Raton to Las Vegas. En route you pass Springer, whence stages run to the Red River mines and to Taos pueblo ; Wagon Mound, a former Mexican frontier customhouse and a picturesque point on the Santa Fe Trail ; and Wat- rous, at the head of Mora Canyon, near old Fort Union. Mora Canyon is fifty miles long, a rather modest aflfair, compared with Apache Canyon and the greater gorges of Arizona, but typical of this land of deeply cutting streams. Within a few miles of Watrous is Valmora Ranch, at an altitude of 6,300 feet. Its thousand level acres lie in the valley of the Coyote, protected by high mesa lands. Here a new sanitarium has been established, where one may enjoy pure air, sunshine and outdoor life. The little Rio Gallinas issues by a tortuous path through rugged, tree-fringed canyon walls from a spur of the Rockies half a dozen miles northwest from the city of Las Vegas. These vegas or meadows gradually broaden until they finally open 31 up into the broad New Mexican plain that sweeps away toward the southeast. Ahnost at the verge of plain and mountain, the city of Las Vegas has grown into prominence. It is the commercial metropolis of northern New Mexico, and the second cicy in the State in size and importance. Its 8,000 inhabitants, with the consequent social life, its important wool-shipping interests, and the fact that it is the headquarters of the New Mexican division of the Santa Fe, may not in themselves be things to attract special attention from the traveler. But there are other things at Las Vegas. First of all for the stranger, there has been built a hotel, so conspicuous in its comfort and its attractions as to command attention. The Castaiieda it is called, erected a few years ago near the depot, and combining the functions of a railway dining-room and hotel. It is a long, low building two stories high, faced with brick, roofed with red tiles, and patterned after the old California missions. This hotel is strictly modern throughout in equipment and in manage- ment. It is under the direction of Fred Harvey, whose name stands as a synonym of satisfactory hotel management. The CastaneJa Las Vegas itself, with its large stores, banks, offices, hotel, and town Hfe, its attractive cHmate and its accessibility, entertains many a stranger in the course of a year, and is steadily growing in popularity as a resort. Its surroundings, readily visited by strangers, offer varied forms of entertain- ment. LAS VEGAS TO ALBUQUERQUE. Traveling from Las Vegas to Albuquerque the Glorieta range of the Rockies is crossed through Glorieta Pass (altitude, 7,453 feet). The upclimb takes you near Starvation Peak, best seen from Chapelle station. One legend says that a large band of Spaniards was surrounded here by Nava- hos in 1800 and starved to death; another story ascribes the cross on summit to the Brotherhood of Penitentes. However the name may have origi- nated, the peak itself is a prominent landmark. Not far from the main line, the head waters of the Pecos River can be reached — a famous haunt of the black-spotted mountain trout. Within ten miles of Glorieta there are a number of deep pools, which, carefully whipped with the proper flies, will yield trout weighing up to four pounds. Parties wishing to fish in the Pecos can find accommoda- ~:r^ Pueblo of Taos £/ Or//2, /,«/;/>', N. M. tions at Mountain View and other ranches in the vicinity of Glorieta. Every little pool in the IVJora River, a tributary of the Pecos near this point, seems to be alive with trout, though the larger fish are more abundant in the main stream. Rainbow and eastern brook trout are nearly as plentiful as the native varieties. The crumbling ruins of old Pecos Church — most venerable pile in New Mexico — are four miles from Pecos station, on the mythical site of that Aztec city where Montezuma is said to have been born. The downward ride is through Apache Canyon, where, in 1847, noted battles were fought between Kearney's Army of the West and the Mexicans, and in 1862 between Federal and Confederate forces. Even here in the mountain solitudes war would not be denied its cruel harvest. At Lamy (named for the good archbishop) there is a branch line to Santa Fe, and a new station hotel, El Ortiz, a low, one-story building, fash- ioned like a Mexican adobe, and managed by Fred Harvey. 35 The main line continues along the tortuouS Galisteo River to the Rio Grande del Norte at Domingo, and down that sluggish stream of the sand-bars to Albuquerque, the commercial metrop- olis of central New Mexico. Albuquerque, the point of junction of three lines of the Santa Fe System — that from the East, that to the Pacific Ocean, and that to the Mexican boundary — has never been extensively advertised as a health resort, though it possesses valid claims for being so considered. Its attractions have been multiplied by the erection of a splendid rail- way hotel, the Alvarado, conducted, as is the Cas- tarieda at Las Vegas, by Fred Harvey. As the traveler leaves the train, this hotel is his first and most enduring impression. A wide-spreading, low building, like a great Spanish mission save for its newness; rough, gray walls, and a far-reaching procession of arches ,* a red-tiled roof with many towers — this is the Alvarado. It looks out across the plain to where purple distant peaks are set against a turquoise sky. Behind it lies the city ; before it the valley stretches to the shouldering hills. The hotel proper is more than a hundred yards long, sixty yards wide, and is built around a court or peristyle, as its general architecture demands. It is connected by a two hundred foot arcade with the new Santa Fe depot, an edifice in perfect har- mony with the artistic lines of the main structure. In form and color, as well as historical associa- tion and the detailed beauty of its generous plan, the Alvarado is a distinct architectural achievement. Inside, the Spanish effect in decoration is thoroughly and con- sistently observed. The dining hall is the largest room in the building. Its furnishings, severely elegant in design, contrast pleasantly with the snow and glitter of the tables ; a great projecting fireplace adds the inevit- able cheer of an open hearth. But of the hotel, as such, nothing need be said except that it is the masterpiece of the Harvey sj^stem ; and this fact, to the traveler who knows, is all-sufficient. It furnishes to the tourist a most luxurious stopping-place in the midst of a trans-continental journey — an enjoyable and interesting rest on the way to California. A special attraction which the Alvarado offers, not to be duplicated elsewhere, is a collection of Indian relics and products gathered during years of studious effort. In Hopl, Navaho, Zuni, Apache, Pima and Mexican treasures of handicraft this collection is well nigh unrivaled, and more than justifies a halt in the attractive hotel which houses it. Here are assembled Navaho and Hopi weavers, potters, silversmiths and basket- makers engaged in their various crafts. A model of an Indian pueblo is shown ; also the finest wares from all the neighboring region. Albuquerque itself lies at an altitude of 4,935 feet above sea-level, on a sunny slope of a broad plain, amply protected against sudden storms by 37 .'i53<)|i> the neighboring high mountain ranges. The winters are generally open and bright, and the atmosphere almost wholly devoid of humidity. The ancient settlement dates back to the Spanish invasion, while the new town, with a population of lO.OOO Americans and all the improvements of a young city, had its beginning with the advent of the Santa Fe Railway. But Albuquerque, aside from its life as a new commercial center, makes other and more subtle de- mands upon the attention ; while not equal to Santa Fe as a picture of the past, the years have also touched it with old colors. The Mexican quarter — the old town — still sleeps in the sun as it did a century — two centuries — ago. And all about it are the dwellings of the most conservative people, the Pueblos of the Rio Grande valley, living as their fathers lived before the first invader came. SANTA FE. In 1605 the Spaniards founded this city under the name La Ciudad Real de la Santa Fe de San Fran- cisco {x.\\GTr\xcQ'\X.y oi the Holy Faith of St. Francis), which, like many another ponderous Spanish title, has been reduced to lower terms in the lapse of time. It occupies a plain rimmed by mountains whose peaks tower to heights of 10,000 and 13,000 feet. The extraordinary interest of its early days is kept i alive by monuments which the kindly elements pro- tect from the accustomed ravages of the centuries. North Em 1 he Alvarado The territorial governor until recently received his guests in the same room that served visitors in the time of the first viceroy. Nineteen American and seventy-six Mexican and Spanish rulers have suc- cessively occupied the palace. Here it was that General Lew Wallace finished "Ben Hur." It has survived all those strange modulations by which a Spanish province has become a State of the Union. The story of the palace stretches back into real antiquity, to a time when the Inquisition had power, when zealous friars of the Order of St. Francis exhorted throngs of dimly comprehend- ing heathen, and when the mailed warriors of Coronado told marvelous uncontradicted tales of ogres that were believed to dwell in the surround- ing wilderness. Beneath its roof are garnered price- less treasures of that ancient time, which the curious visitor may behold. There are faded pictures of saints painted upon puma-skins, figures laboriously wrought in wood to shadow forth the Nazarene; votive offerings of silver, in the likeness of legs, arms and hands, brought to the altar of Our Lady by those who had been healed of wounds or disease; rude stone gods of the heathen, and domestic utensils and implements of war. There, too, may be seen ancient maps of the New World, lettered in Latin and in French, on which California appears as an island of the Pacific, and the country at large is confidently displayed with grotesque inaccuracy. Nearly a mile distant from the palace, on an eminence overlooking the town, stands the ok 39 Chapel Rosario, now neighbored by the Ramona school for Apache children. In 1692 Diego de Vargas, marching up from the south, stood upon that hill with his little army of 200 men and looked over into the city from which his countrymen had been driven with slaughter a dozen years before. There he knelt and vowed to build upon the spot a chapel for Our Lady of the Rosary, provided she would fight upon his side. The town was carried by assault after a des- perate contest of eleven hours' duration, and the chapel was built. It savors quaintly to us of a less poetic age that those royal old adventurers should have thought themselves hand and glove with the celestial powers; but they certainly made acknowl- edgment of services rendered upon occasion. There are other places of antiquarian interest, where are stored Spanish archives covering two and a quarter centuries, and numerous paintings and carvings of great age ; the Church of Our Lady of Light, the Cathedral of San Francisco, and finally the Church of San Miguel and the Old House, isolated from everything that is in touch with our century by their location in the heart of a decrepit old Mexican village. Here, at last, is the real Santa Fe of the traveler's anticipation ; a straggling aggregation of low adobe huts, divided by narrow winding lanes, where in the sharply defined shadows leathern-faced old men and women sit in vacuous idleness, and burros loaded with firewood 40 .^->i?i /i^ or garden truck pass to and fro; and in small groups of chattering women one catches an occa- sional glimpse of bright interrogating eyes and a saucy face, in spite of the closely drawn tapelo. If now some sturdy figure in bright, clanking armor should obligingly pass along, you would have an exact picture of the place as it appeared two and a half centuries ago. Nothing but that figure has departed from the scene, and substan- tially nothing new has entered in. It does not change. The hurrying activities and transitions of the outer world, from which it is separated by only a narrow arroyo, count for nothing here. One questions if the outline of a shadow has altered for generations. The Old House, where Coronado is said to have lodged in 1540, and the Church of San Miguel, which was sacked in 1680, are not distinguishable from their surroundings by any air of superior age. All is old, a petrifaction of medieval human life done in adobe. Santa Fe is the center of archaeological research in America. Here in the old Governor's Palace, the American institute of archaeology has established its principal school and museum, along the lines of those already in existence at Athens, Rome and Jerusalem. Besides conducting important excava- tions in Guatemala, Yucatan and Alaska, work is being carried on among the prehistoric clifi-dwellings at Pajarito Park, Puye and Rito de los Frijoles, within half a day's journey of New Mexico's capital. The Old Governor's Palace This " home of the ancients " embraces the plateau region ten to twenty miles east and west, between the Rio Grande and Jemez mountains, extending from Chama Valley to Canada de Cochiti, fifty miles north and south. The most southerly ruins are twenty miles from Santa Fe, scattered among a hundred clififs. In Frijoles Canyon, ten miles farther on, 1,500 separate ruins have been discovered. A ruin on the second mesa south of Frijoles, where the stone lions are, contains about 1,200 rooms. Puye, to the north, under jurisdiction of the Santa Clara Indians, is best reached by train to Espanola, thence a twelve-mile ride by team. Ultimately the whole Pajaritan region will be restored, and the traveler then can wander through once-buried cities older than Pompeii. What has been accomplished to date, both in the field and at the museum, is of great interest. Santa Fe is interesting, too, for other reasons and is well worth a side trip from the main overland journey. Get ofif at Lamy, stop at El Ortiz, and later take the branch train. In an hour you are at destination, nearly 7,000 feet above the sea, on a little plain, at the foot of snowy peaks, one of which, Mt. Baldy, rises to an altitude of 12,623 feet. The older section — quaint adobeland — has been mentioned. The newer section, built since the gringo came, has substantial modern stores, resi- dences and public buildings. Being the capital of New Mexico, the social life is charming. A leading industry is the manufacture of filigree silver jewelry 42 and turquoise ornaments. Are you an invalid? Here are outdoor sanitariums and hospitals. Are you a lover of Indians? Within a few hours' ride are several Pueblo Indian villages, dating back before the Spanish conquest, and in the suburbs is an Indian school. Do you like Mexican life? The soft-syl- labled Castilian tongue is spoken on every street corner. Is mountain scenery vi'hat you want ? Just ride out along the scenic drive, toward Las V^egas, to the headwaters of the Pecos. Every- where there is plenty to see and do. From April to November is the pleasantest season here — yet the winter visitor will find much to enjoy. #11 , ,. , k w,>.™i..Niii,»-ii"i.i,» .r™,),; ll I I'.jl Enin ottTyrwryi • N M- x^:'^.^.--^^:, 43 Moki Pueblo of Wolpi. PUEBLOS. More than a score of these many- chambered communal homes are scat- Mexico. Picuris, San Juan, Santa Clara, San Ilde- fonso, Pojoaque, Nambe and Teseque are within twenty to ninety-five miles of Santa Fe, their population varying from twenty-five to four hundred persons. From Domingo one may reach the pueblos of Cochiti,San Domingo and San Felipe, while Sandia, Jemez, Zia and Santa Ana are in the vicinity of Albuquerque. Few tourists know that the Pueblo Indians of New Mexico own 900,000 acres of land, and that since the treaty of Guadeloupe Hidalgo in 1848 they have been full-fiedged United States citizens, though not voting, and maintaining their own forms of government. Three of the most important pueblos are Isleta, Laguna, and Acoma. Isleta is within a stone's throw of the railroad; Laguna station now is located about two miles west of the Indian settlement, the railroad track having been moved a considerable distance north; Acoma is reached from Laguna or Cubero by a 44 drive of fifteen miles ; the trip may be made in a day; accommodations for travelers are rather inadequate. The aboriginal inhabitants of the pueblos, an intelligent, complex, industrious and independent race, are anomalous among North American natives. Many are housed to-day in the self-same structures in which their forebears were discovered, and in three and a half centuries of contact with Europeans their manner of life has not materially changed. The Indian tribes that roamed over mountain and plain have become wards of the Government. But the Pueblo Indian has absolutely maintained the integrity of his individuality, self-respecting and self-sufScient. The extent to which he has adopted the religion of his Spanish conquerers, or the teachings of his present guardians, amounts to only a slight concession from his persistent con- servatism. Laborious efiorts have been made to penetrate the reserve with which the involved inner life of this strange child of the desert is guarded, but it lies like a vast dark continent behind a dimly visible shore, and he dwells within the shadowy rim of a night that yields no ray to tell of his origin. Pueblo of Zufii Hotel Jlvarado Albuquerque He is a true pagan, swathed in scem- \^ ingly dense clouds of superstition, rich in fanciful legend, and profoundly cere- monious in religion. His gods are innumerable. Not even the ancient Greeks pos- sessed a more populous Olympus. On that austere yet familiar height gods of peace and of war, of the chase, of bountiful harvest and of famine, of sun and rain and snow, elbow a thousand others for standing-room. The trail of the serpent has crossed his history, too, and he frets his pottery with an imitation of its scales, and gives the rattle- snake a prominent place among his deities. Unmistakably a pagan, yet the purity and well- being of his communities will bear favorable com- parison with those of the enlightened world. He is brave, honest and enterprising within the fixed limits of his little sphere, his wife is virtuous, his children arc docile. And were the whole earth swept bare 46 of every living thing, save for a few leagues sur- rounding his tribal home, his life would show little disturbance. Possibly he might not at once learn of so unimportant an occurrence. He would still alternately labor and relax in festive games, still reverence his gods, and rear his children to a life of industry and content, so anomalous is he, so firmly established in an absolute independence. Pueblo architecture possesses nothing of the elab- orate ornamentation found in so-called Aztec ruins in Mexico, The house is usually built of stone, covered with adobe cement, and is severely plain. It is commonly two or three stories in height, of terrace form, and joined to its neighbors. The prevailing entrance is by means of a ladder to the roof of the lowest story. The most strikingly interesting of New Mexican pueblos is Acoma. It is built upon the summit of a table-rock with eroded precipitous sides, 350 feet 47 .-"A .,:-/««<:^^^^ Pueblo of Laguna above the plain, which is 7,000 feet above the sea. Acoma pueblo is 1,000 feet in length and 40 feet high, and there is besides a church of enormous proportions. Formerly it was reached only by a hazardous stairway in the rock, up which the inhab- itants carried upon their backs every particle of the materials of which the village is constructed; but easier pathways now exist. The graveyard con- sumed forty years in building, by reason of the necessity of bringing earth from the plain below ; and the church must have cost the labor of many generations, for its walls are 60 feet high and 10 feet thick, and it has timbers 40 feet long and 14 inches square. The Acomas welcomed the soldiers of Coronado with deference, ascribing to them celestial origin. Subsequently, upon learning the distinctly human character of the Spaniards, they professed allegiance, but afterward wantonly slew a dozen of Zaldivar's men. By way of reprisal Zaldivar headed threescore soldiers and undertook to carry the sky-citadel by 48 assault. After a three days' hand-to-hand struggle the Spaniards stood victors upon that seemingly impregnable fortress, and received the submission of the Queres, who for three-quarters of a century thereafter remained tractable. In that interval the priest came to Acoma and held footing for fifty years, until the bloody uprising of 1680 occurred, in which priest, soldier, and settler were massacred or driven from the land, and every vestige of their occupation was extirpated. After the resubjection of the natives by Diego de Vargas the present church was constructed, and the Pueblos have not since rebelled against the contiguity of the white man. Anciently, according to a native tradition, for which Mr. C. F. Lummis is authority, the original pueblo of Acoma stood upon the crest of the Enchanted Mesa, 430 feet above the valley, three miles away, but its only approach was one day destroyed by the falling of a clilif, and Vv| three sick women, who chanced to be the sV'^; only occupants — the remainder of the popu- \^> . "'«*'' lation being at work in the fields below — perished there, beyond reach of aid from their people, who then built a new pueblo on the present site. In 1897 ^ri Eastern college professor laid siege to the Mesa Encantada with a mortar and several miles of assorted ropes, supple- mented by pulleys, a boatswain's chair, and a team of horses. By these aids the summit was reached, but the party reported that nothing was found to indicate that it had ever been visited before by man. A few weeks later, Dr. F. W. Hodge, of the Bureau of Ethnology, made the ascent with several companions, aided by a few short ladders, a guide rope, and experience in mountaineering. This party found a number of potsherds and fragments of implements and ornaments, all of ancient type, and vigorously championed the claim that the mesa was once inhabited. Afterward another part) % including Mr. Lummis, Dr. David Starr Jordan, and Prof. T. H. Hittell, similarly ascended and were similarly rewarded. The adherents of the legend assert that the gnaw- ing tooth of centuries of summer storm and winter frost would inevitably denude the summit of every relic of that olden time save such as have been securely pocketed in crevices instead of washing away. The talus of the mesa abounds in ancient potsherds, and the rapid annual rise of rock detritus at the foot of the clif? not onlv lends corroboration Tu rquoise- drilling but shows how recently the mesa has ceased to be unscalable. Even so, it will be long before the casual tourist will aspire to its giddy crest. Laguna ("the lake") was founded in 1699 by refugees from Acoma, Zuili, and Cochiti, on a high rock near the San Jose River. Its old Spanish mission name was San Josef de la Laguna. Several great battles were fought here with the Navajos and Apaches. The Laguna Indians also occupy tributary villages, such as Paquate, Negra, Encinal, and Casa Blanca. III. ARIZONA. THE portion to be traversed is a land of pro- digious mountain terraces, extensive plateaus, profound canyons, and flat, arid plains, dotted with gardens of fruits and flowers, patched with vast tracts of pine timber, and veined with precious stones and metals, alternating with desolate beds of lava, bald mountainous cones of black and red volcanic cinder, grass-carpeted parks, uncouth vege- table growths of the desert, and bleak rock spires, above all which white peaks gleam radiantly in almost perpetual sunlight. The long-time residents of this region are unable to shake off its charm, even when no longer compelled by any other con- sideration to remain. Its frequent wide stretches of rugged horizon exert a fascination no less pow- erful than that of arduous mountain fastnesses or the secret shadows of the dense forest. There is the same dignity of Nature, the same mystery, potent even upon those who can least define its thrall. ^ o^ , „ "iS- m^j^~ Miners confess to it, and herdsmen. To the traveler it will appear a novel environment for con- temporaneous American life, this land of sage and mesquite, of frowning volcanic piles, shadowed can- yons, lofty mesas and painted buttes. It seems fitter for some cyclopean race; for the pterodactyl and the behemoth. Its clif?s are flung in broad, sinuous lines that approach and recede from the way, their contour incessantly shifting in the simil- itude of caverns, corridors, pyramids, monuments, and a thousand other forms so full of structural idea that they seem to be the unfinished work of some giant architect who had planned more than he could execute. The altitude is practically the same as that of the route through New Mexico, undulating between 5,000 and 7,000 feet above sea-level, until on the western border the high plateaus break rapidly down to an elevation of less than 500 feet at the valley ot a broad and capricious stream that flows through alternate stretches of rich alluvial meadow and barren rock-spires — obelisks rising against the sky. This stream is the Colorado River, wayward, strenuous, and possessed of creative imagination and terrific energy when the mood is on. It chiseled the Grand Canyon, far to the north and east, and now complacently saunters oceanward. Despite its quiet air, not long ago it conceived the whim to make a Salton Sea far to the south, and the afiair was a national sensation for many months. The great cantilever bridge that spans it here (one of the largest of its kind in the world) was made necessary by the restless spirit of the intractable stream. The main suspended span is 66o feet in length and the cantilever arms each 165 feet; the cost was half a million dollars. Only a few years ago the crossing was by means of a huge pile bridge several miles toward the north ; but the river shifted its channel so frequently it was thought desirable to build a new bridge down here among the enduring obelisks, which are known as The Needles. It is a picturesque spot, full of color, and the air has a pure transparency that lends depth and distance to the view, such as the bird knows in its flight. The Needles form the head of the gorgeously beautiful Mojave Canyon, hidden from view. The Colorado is an inveterate lover of a chaotic chan- nel. It is its genius to create works of art on a scale to awe the spirit of cataclysm itself. It is a true Hellespont, issuing from cimmerian gloom to loiter among sunny fields, which it periodically waters with a fertilizing flood ; and while you follow its gentle sweep it breaks into sudden uproar and hews a further path of desolation and sublimity. One who does not know the canyons of the Colorado has never experienced the full exaltation of those impersonal emotions to which the Arts are addressed. There only are audience-halls fit for tragedies of i^schylus, for Dante and the Sagas. The known history of Arizona begins with the same Mark of Nice whom we have already accredited as the discoverer of New Mexico, of which this State was long a part : and here, as well, he was followed by Coronado and the mis- sionaries. This is the true home of the Apache, whose unsparing warfare repeatedly destroyed the work of early Spanish civilization and won the land back for a time to heathenesse. Its complete acqui- sition by the United States dates from 1853, and in the early days of the Civil War it was again devastated. After its successful reoccupation by California troops in i862, settlers began to penetrate its northern portion. Nearly twenty years later the first railroad spanned its boundaries, and then finally it became a tenable home for the Saxon, although the well-remembered outbreak of Gero- nimo occurred only two decades ago. To-day the war-thirsty Apaches are widely scattered among dis- tant reservations, and with them has departed the last existing element of disturbance. But Arizona will never lose its peculiar atmosphere of extreme antiquity, for in addition to those overwhelming chasms that have lain unchanged since the infancy of the world, it contains within its borders the ruins of once populous cities, maintained by an enor- mous irrigation system which our modern science has not yet outdone ; whose history was not writ- ten upon any lasting scroll ; whose peoples are classed among the undecipherable antiquities of our continent, their deeds unsung, their heroes unchron- icled and unknown. 56 Yet, if you have a chord for the heroic, hardly shall you find another land so invigorating as this of Arizona. It stififens the mental fiber like a whiff of the north w^ind. It stirs in the blood dim echoes of days when achievement lay in the might of the individual arm ; when sword met targe in exhilara- ting struggles for supremacy. The super-refinement of cities dissipates here. There is a tonic breeze that blows toward simple relations and a lusty self- hood. ALBUQUERQUE TO NEEDLES. The Santa Fe, in traversing western New Mex- ico and Arizona, climbs the Continental Divide from Albuquerque (altitude 4,935 feet) to Guam (altitude 6,996 feet), a distance of 136 miles, along the interesting valleys of the Puerco and San Jose. There follows a downhill slide of 150 miles to Winslow (altitude 4,343 feet) beside the Puerco and Little Colorado rivers. The engine then pufifs up grade for many miles through fragrant pine for- ests to a point just beyond Flagstaff. There is a slight down grade to Ash Fork (altitude 5,126 feet) , another rise of twenty-seven miles to Selig- man (altitude 5,260 feet), and then the train easily drops down a 150-mile incline to Needles, the descent being nearly a mile, almost to sea- level. You would scarcely notice the difference at any given point, unless by comparison with track behind or ahead. 57 Mi A^-V ,iv I A The principal scenes en route will be briefly noted, without attempting adequate description. Isleta, "little island," is a picturesque pueblo in the Rio Grande Valley, occupied by six hundred Indians who own flocks, cultivate vineyards and work in silver. Laguna is mentioned elsewhere. Cubero is a quiet Mexican village, three miles from the station, where quaint ceremonies — brought from Old Mexico — still hold sway; the San Mateo Mountains are on the north from Cubero to Grant's. Northeast of McCarty's is Acomita, an offshoot of Acoma pueblo. Lava beds are seen, McCarty's to beyond Bluewater, The Zufli Mountains are southwest of Grant's station ; San Rafael is on the road thither in a beautiful valley; here, also at Cubero and San Rafael, the strange rites of the Penitentes are performed : southward are the pictured mesa fronts visible as far as Gallup. There is a low cone north of Bluewater called Tintero, meaning inkstand, whence lava once pro- fusely flowed. The station of Chaves is named for a noted Indian fighter of early days. From Thoreau, three miles east of Continental Divide, various interesting canyons and Indian pueblos may be reached, notably Pueblo Bonito, whose ancient ruins cover seven acres, one building containing a thousand rooms. Between Guam and Wingate are Navaho Church and Pyramid Rock. Inscription Rock is fifty miles southeast of Wingate. The southern border of 58 I A Nwvaho H^eaver the Navaho reservation is ten to fifty miles north of the railway in northeastern Arizona. The Navahos frequently visit Wingate, Canyon Diablo and intermediate stations. They are a pastoral people, progressive, intelligent and self-supporting. They own large numbers of cattle, sheep and goats, till small farms, make the celebrated Navaho blankets, and are expert silversmiths. Thirty-five miles south of Zuni Station, on Zuni River, is the pueblo of Zuni, inhabited by a thou- sand Indians, made famous through the writings of an energetic ethnologist, Mr. Frank Gushing, who lived in the pueblo for four years, first as a welcome guest and then as a member of the tribe. The Zunis always have been an imperious people. 59 Their history prior to the Spanish occupation indi- cates that they were at that time the dominant Pueblos. The Zuili ceremonial dances are of world-wide renown. Gallup is the best point of departure for Zuiii village. The trip is a com- fortable carriage ride of six hours each way, over good roads and through impressive scenery. Ex- penses are about five dollars per day for each person. Room and board, at Zuni, can be ob- tained at the house of the resident trader. Canyon de Chelly lies fifty miles north of Man- uelito. Adamana and Holbrook are points of departure for Petrified Forest. Holbrook is the railroad station for Fort Apache, several Indian villages and interior Mormon settlements. The Painted Desert and Hop! buttes north of Wins- low, and the MogoUon Mountains south, are prominent features of the landscape ; the old Con- tinental stage route, a continuation of the Santa Fe Trail, passed through Winslow. Canyon Diablo, Flagstaff, Williams and Ash Fork are referred to further on. The Hualapai and Havasupai Indian agency is reached from Tinnaka. The Hualapai mainly live at near-by stations, or act as herders ; the Havasu- pais reside in Cataract Canyon, a tributary of the Grand Canyon. PETRIFIED FORESTS. From remotest epochs earth has striven against tiie encroaching sHme of seas in a wasting struggle to free her face to air. Those who are learned may tell j'ou where she is left most deeply scarred by the conflict, but in this region where her triumph, if barren, is complete, and the last straggling columns of her routed foe are sourly retreating oceanward, at least her wounds are bare, and with them many a strange record which she thought to lock forever in her bosom. Long ere Noah fell adrift with the heterogeneous com- pany of the ark, or Adam was, perhaps even before the ancestral ape first stood erect in the posture of men that were to be, forests were growing in Ari- zona, just as in some parts they grow to-day. And it befell in the course of time that they lay pros- trate and over them swept the waters of an inland sea. ^.__^ k •,vY->^'<'^ ; . V -■.■■■■ Eons passed, and sands like drifting snowflakes buried them so deep the plesiosaurus never sus- pected their grave beneath him as he basked his monstrous length in the tropic waters and hungrily watched the pterodactyl lolling in the palm-shade on the rim. Then the sea vanished, the uncouth denizens of its deeps and shores became extinct, and craters belched forth volcanic spume to spread a further mantle of oblivion over the past. Yet somewhere the chain of life remained unbroken, and as fast as there came dust for worm to burrow in, mould for seed to sprout in, and leaf for insect to feed on, life crept back in multiplying forms, only to retreat again before the surge of ele- mental strife after a century or after a thousand years. The precise sequence of local events as here sketched must not be too critically scanned. The aim is to suggest an approximate notion, to those who possess no better, of some prodigious happen- ings which have a bearing on our immediate theme. If still one chance to lack a working idea, let him remember that the solid surface of the earth is ceaselessly changing contour, that it act- ually billows like the open sea. It merely moves more slowly, for if the gradual upheavals and depressions of the earth's crust throughout millions of years were performed within the brief span of an hour, you would have the wildest conceivable spectacle of cold rock strata become as fluctuant as water, and leaping and falling in waves whose 62 crests towered miles in air, and whose lengths were measurable by half a continent. This region for hundreds of square miles was once sunk so low the ocean overflowed it ; then upheaved so high the brine could find no footing. Again a partial depression made it a vast repository of rivers that drained the higher levels, which in time was expelled by a further upheaval. During the peri- ods of subsidence the incoming waters deposited sand and silt, which time hardened to rock. But in periods of upheaval the process was reversed and the outgoing waters gnawed the mass and labored constantly to bear it away. So, to return to our long-buried forest, some 10,000 feet of rock was deposited over it, and sub- sequently eroded clean away. And when these ancient logs were uncovered, and, like so many Van Winkles, they awoke — but from a sleep many thousand times longer — to the sight of a world that had forgotten them, lo! the sybaritic chemistry of nature had transformed them every one into chal- cedony, topaz, onyx, carnelian, agate and amethyst. Thousands of acres are thickly strewn with trunks and segments of trunks, and covered with chiplike fragments. There are several separated tracts, any one of which will seem to the aston- ished beholder an inexhaustible store of gems, measurable by no smaller phrase than millions of tons ; a profusion of splinters, limbs and logs, every 63 '"•^ Apache Canyon fragment of which as it lies would adorn the col- lector's cabinet, and, polished by the lapidary, might embellish a crown. Some of these prostrate trees of stone are over 200 feet in length and seven to ten feet in diameter, although they are most fre- quently broken into sections by transverse fracture. One of these huge trunks, its integrity still spared by time, spans a canyon fifty feet wide — a bridge of jasper and agate overhanging a tree-fringed pool. Mr. John Muir, the noted California naturalist, says of the North Sigillaria Forest (discovered by him in 1906) that the many finely preserv^ed Sigil- laria, Lepidodendron and Dadozylon trees here, with their peculiar roots and leaf-marks, show plainly that in this place flourished one of the noblest forests of the Carboniferous period. The trees grew where they now lie, instead of drifting in from elsewhere, and many standing stumps are visible. The forest covers many thousands of acres, in j five separate tracts. I The First Forest is distant six miles from Ada- mana, being the one most frequently visited. It contains the notable natural log bridge. The Second Forest is three miles south of the first one and is smaller. The Third Forest lies thirteen miles southwest of Adamana ; it is the largest and has the most unbroken tree trunks of great size. The Blue Forest is seven miles southeast and the North Sigillaria Forest is nine miles north; the pre- vailing color of the former is a beautiful nemo- philia blue; the latter is famed for its basin, the 64 north wall ot which is sculptured like the Grand Canyon. The general charac- teristics of these different tracts are the same. One may also reach the Third Forest from Holbroolc; distance eighteen miles. Round-trip livery fare from either point is $5.00 for one person and $2.50 each for three or more persons. Mr. C. B. Campbell conducts a small hotel at Adamana; rate $2.50 a day. There are also good hotel accommodations at Holbroolc. HOPIS. The Hopi pueblos are seven in number: (Jrai- bi, Shungopavi, Shipaulovi, Mishongnovi, Wolpi, Sichomovi and Tewa (also called Hano). They are embraced in a locality less than thirty miles across, and are the citadels of a region which the discovering Spaniards in the sixteenth century named the Province of Tusayan. They are not to be confounded with the "Seven Cities of Cibola," whose site is now known to be Zuni, in New Mexico. They are reached by a pleasant two days' wagon journey northward from Canyon Diablo, Holbrook or Winslow, and by a longer route through pine forests from Gallup in New Mexico, at an expense of from $5 to $7 a day. The peculiar attractions which they ofifer to students of primitive community and pagan ceremonies, as well as to the artist seeking 5 65 i ■S 1 \\ \ •* ^/^^A/^ HOPI HAIR DRESSING. strange subjects, or the casual traveler hoping to find a new sensation, are acting to draw an increasing number of visitors every year at the time of their religious festivities. This increasing interest has resulted in improving the means of access without in any degree modifying the conditions of the villages themselves or the Hopi ceremonies. The latter half of August is the time of the most spec- tacular fiestas, and at that season a wagon journey from the railway to the Province of Tusayan, with the consequent camp life on the road and at the pueblos, need be no hardship. There are no tourist's accommodations at the villages except such few rooms or houses as can be rented from the Hopis at reasonable rates. Provi- sions and such household comforts as the traveler considers indispensable must be brought in. The roads and trails lie across the almost level Painted Desert, which, except in the Little Colorado Val- ley and around a few springs or wells, has scant vegetation. The soil is sandy or rocky, and in August the weather is warm. The altitude, aver- aging 6,000 feet, insures cool nights, and the absence of humidity forbids that the daj'time heat should be oppressive. Even if the pueblos as an objective did not exist, a voyage into that country of extinct volcanoes and strangely sculp- tured and tinted rock-masses would be well worth the making. Aside from the powerful charm exerted by this region upon all visitors, there is 67 ^"■^^^^^t^^ th( of J an invigorating tonic quality in the pure air ■^ Arizona that is better than medicine. Like Acoma, the Hop! pueblos are perched ^'T on the crests of lofty mesas, and at the first '^J-i were well nigh inaccessible to enemies, their only *^\ approach being by way of narrow, precipitous T^lfoot trails. In modern times less difficult paths i t/ have been constructed, such fortress homes ^ItfAflj being no longer needful for defense. But the /kk*^ conservative Hopis continue to live as lived their forbears and cling to their high dwelling place. The women toil up the trails with water from the spring below, and the men returning from the fields climb a small mountain's height daily. They are industrious, thrifty, orderly and mirth- ful, and are probably the best entertained people in the world. A round of ceremonies, each terminating in the pageants called ' dances," keeps going pretty continuously the whole year, and all the spectacles are free. Subsisting almost wholly by agriculture in an arid region of uncertain crops, they find abundant time between their labors for lighthearted dance and song, and for elaborate ceremonials, which are grotesque in the Kachina, or masked dances, ideally poetic in the Flute dance, and intensely dramatic in the Snake dance. Of the last two, both of which arc drama- tized prayers for rain at an appointed season, the former is picturesque in costume and ritual, and impressive in solemn beauty; the latter is grim and startling, reptiles — including a liberal proportion of rattlesnakes — being employed as messengers to carry petitions to the gods of the underworld, who are supposed to have power over the rain cloud. To the onlooker it seems impossible that venom- ous snakes can be handled so audaciously without inflicting deadly wounds, yet it is positively known that they are in no wise deprived of their natural power to do so. There are those who claim to have seen the dancers bitten by their rattlesnake partners, but the claim lacks confirmation by care- ful scientific observers, who incline to the belief that the snake priests avoid injury by dexterity and a knowledge of reptile ways. It is true that the priests possess a secret antidote, to which they resort in cases of snakebite, which occasionally befalls the barefoot natives, but even in the land of the snake dance such casualties are uncommon and the efficacy of the antidote remains a matter for investigation. That the dancers are some- times bitten is pretty well established, but the observer may not have distinguished the harm- less from the venomous snakes, which are intermingled, and the Hopis are reticent to subsequent inquiry. By some these Indians are called Mokis. Moki is a nickname. It is said to signify ■ 69 /■■■ "dead," and to have been applied at a time of devastation by smallpox, that gift of civilized man to the savage. Afterwards the warlike Navahos applied it to these peaceable folk as a term of derision. Among themselves they always are known as Hopi , ' ' good ( or peaceful ) people." The Hopis are hospitable to all respectful visitors, and they may be visited at any time of the year except in midwinter, although the season of the religious feasts made famous by the snake dance is the time of the greatest attraction. CANYON DIABLO. This is a profound gash in the plateau, some 225 feet deep, 550 feet wide, and many miles long. It has the appearance of a volcanic rent in the earth's crust, wedge-shaped, and terraced in bare dun rock down to the thread of a stream that trickles through the notch. It is one of those inconsequent things which Arizona is fond of displaying. For many miles you are bowled over a perfectly level plain, and without any preparation whatever, save only to slacken its pace, the train crosses the chasm by a spider-web bridge, 225 feet high and 600 feet long, and then speeds again over the self-same placid expanse. Several miles southeast of Canyon Diablo is a remarkable place called Meteorite Mountain (also reached from Sunshine 70 station) , where it is supposed that a colossal sky-wanderer once fell. The crater-like cavity marking its crash into the earth is nearly a mile wide. Large fragments of meteoric stone have been found near by contain- ing small diamonds, but the main meteor has not been unearthed yet. FLAGSTAFF. Flagstaff is itself pictorial in character and rich in interest. From it one finds access to most remarkable ancient ruins and to one of the most practicable and delightful of our great mountains. It stands upon a clearing in an exten- sive pine forest that here covers the plateau and clothes the mountains nearly to their peaks ; although the word park better describes this sunlit, grass-carpeted expanse of widely set, towering pines, where cattle graze and the horseman may gallop at will. Couched at the foot of a noble mountain that doffs its cap of snow for only a few weeks of the year, and environed by vast resources of mate- rial wealth in addition to the picturesque features of its surroundings, it is fortunately located. The extraordinarily pure atmosphere of this ele- vated region and the predominance of clear weather Canyon Diablo gave Flagstaff the Lowell Observatory. It is charmingly situated in the heart of the pines, upon a hill in the outskirts of the tow^n. Whether or not the planet Mars has canals and is inhabited, is one of the many big astronomical problems which this observatory has specially studied. Nineteen miles to the south is Oak Creek, a noted trout stream; visitors will find excellent accommodations at Lolomai Lodge. The canyon here is a Yosemite in miniature. Another favorite one-day trip, by team or auto, is to Sunset Mountain, the lava beds and ice caves. The extinct volcano here is supposed to have been active a few centuries ago. The cone rises a thousand feet high; the crater on top is 200 feet deep and half a mile across. On the eastern edge of the lava beds is Black Crater, from wliich millions of tons of black cinders were thrown. About fifty miles northeast of Flagstaff, on the summit of a mesa, near the Little Colorado river, are the Black Falls prehistoric ruins, reached over a fairly good road. These consist of three large groups. They are noted for the many high walls still standing and the fine pottery that is found there. SAN FRANCISCO PEAKS. Here, as in many other parts of the West, the actual height of a mountain is greater than is appar- ent to the eye. The ascent begins at a point considerably above where the Eastern mountain climber leaves of?, for the reason that the whole region is itself a prodigious mountain, hundreds of thousands of square miles in area, of which the projecting peaks are but exalted lookouts. The summits of San Francisco Peaks are elevated nearly 13,000 feet above the sea, and only 6, GOO feet above the town of Flagstaff. It follows that more than half of the actual ascent has been made without any efifort by the traveler, and the same altitude is attained as if he had climbed a sheer height of 13,000 feet upon the rim of the sea. There is the same rarefaction of air, the same wide range over an empire that lies flat beneath the eye, limited only by the interposition of other mountains, the spherical contour of the earth, atmospheric haze, or the power of vision itself. A^*^ ^&. The apex of Humphrey's Peak, the only summit of this mountain yet practicable for the tourist, is little more than eleven miles from Flagstafif, and an excellent carriage road covers fully six miles of the distance. From the end of that road a com- fortable bridle-path leads to within a few feet of the topmost crag. The entire trip may be made on horseback if desired, and one who is accustomed to the saddle will find it a preferable experience, for then short cuts are taken through the timber, and there is so much the more of freedom and the charm of an untrammeled forest. The road crosses a short stretch of clearing and then enters the magnifi- cent pine park, rising at an easy grade and offering frequent backward glimpses. The strained, con- scious severity of the Rocky Mountain giants is wanting here. It is a mountain without egotism, breathing gentlest dignity, and frankly fond of its robe of verdure. Birds flit and carol in its treetops, and squirrels play. Grass and fern do not fear to make soft-cushioned banks to allure the visitor, flowers riot in their season, and the aspens have whole hillsides to themselves ; soft, twinkling bow- ers of delicate green, dells where one could wish to lie and dream through long summer hours. The bridle-path begins, with the conventional zig-zag of mountain-trails, at the foot of a steep grass-grown terrace that lies in full view of the spreading pano- rama below. Above that sunny girdle the trail winds through a more typical mountain forest, where dead stalks of pine and fir are plentifully i sprinkled among the living, and ugly swaths show where the avalanche has passed. Above this, for the remaining few hundred feet, the peaks stand bare — stern, swart crags that brook no mantle I except the snows, encompassed by a quiet which i only the wind redeems from everlasting silence. The outlook from Humphrey's Peak is one of the noblest of mountain views. It commands a recog- nizable territory of not less than seventy-five thou- sand square miles, with vague, shadowy contours beyond the circle of definite vision. Categorically, as pointed out by the guide, the main features of the landscape are as follows: Directly north, the farther wall of the Grand Canyon, at the Bright Angel amphitheater; fifty miles away; and topping that, the Buckskin Mountains of the Kaibab Pla- teau, thirty or forty miles farther distant. To the right, the Navaho Mountains, near the Colorado state line, 200 miles. In the northeast, the won- derful Painted Desert, tinted with rainbow-hues, and the Navaho Reservation. Below that the Hop! buttes and villages. Toward the east, the broad plateau and desert as far as the divide near Navaho Springs, 130 miles east from Flagstafif by the rail- road. In the southeast the White Mountains, more than 200 miles. In the south , successively, the Mogollon Plateau, a group of a dozen lakes — unlooked-for sight in the arid lands — Baker's Butte, the Four Peaks, and the Superstition Mountains near Phoenix, the last named 160 miles distant. In the southwest, the Bradshaw Mountains, 1 40 miles ; 75 ca_ -^2. — '-.£? Granite Mountain at Prescott, lOO miles, and the Juniper Range, 150 miles. The horizon directly west is vague and doubtful, but is supposed to lie near the California line. In the northwest a dis- tant range is seen, north of the Colorado River and east of the Nevada line, perhaps the Sheavwits or the Hurricane Mountains. Among the less remote objects are the Coconino forest and basin on the north ; on the east the Little Colorado, traceable by its fringe of cottonwoods, beds of lava flung like the shadow of a cloud or the trail of a conflagra- tion, and Sunset and Peachblow craters, black cones of cinder capped with red scoria ; on the south and southwest Oak Creek Canyon, the Jerome smel- ters, and the rugged pictorial breakdown of the Verde ; under foot. Flagstaff ; and on the west the peaks of Bill Williams, Sitgreaves and Kendricks, neighborly near. Yet, in spite of the grandeur of such a scene, San Francisco Peak itself soon gains and monopo- lizes the attention. It has slopes that bend in a single sweeping curve to depths which the brain reels to contemplate, down which a loosened stone will spin until the eye can no longer distinguish its course ; and there are huge folds and preci- pices and abysses of which no hint was given in the ascent. Perhaps its most attractive single fea- ture is a profound bowl-shaped cavity between Humphrey's and Agassiz Peaks, overhung by strangely sculptured cliffs that have the appearance of ruined 76 .^^.5*$. -. ^i/**. -! ' castle walls perforated with rude doorways, windows and loopholes. It is called The Crater, and is almost completely boxed in by steep but uniform slopes of volcanic dust, in descending which a horse sinks to his fetlocks. On one side it breaks down into a canyon leading off to the plain and set with tree, grass, fern and flower. Its axis is marked by two parallel lines of bare bowl- ders of great size, that might have been thrown up from the underlying rock by some prodigious ebul- lition of internal forces. The round trip to the peak is customarily accom- plished in a day, but arrangements may be made to remain upon the mountain over night if determined upon in advance, and such a plan is recommended to those who are reasonably hardy and have never seen the glories of sunset and sunrise from a mountain-height. GRAND CANYON OF ARIZONA. The series of tremendous chasms which form the channel of the Colorado River in its course through northern Arizona reach their culmination in a cha- otic gorge 217 miles long, nine to thirteen miles wide, and, midway, more than 6,000 feet below the level of the plateau. Standing upon the brink of that plateau, at the point of the canyon's greatest width and depth, the beholder is confronted by a scene whose majesty and beauty are well nigh unbearable. Snatched in a single instant glance from every accustomed anchorage of human experience, the 77 stoutest heart here quavers, the senses cower. It is one of the few advertised spots which one need not fear approaching with anticipations too exalted. It is a new world, compelling the tribute of sensa- tions whose intensity exceeds the familiar signifi- cation of words. It never has been adequately described, and never will be. If you say of Niaga- ra's gorge that it is profound, what shall you say of the Colorado's chasm that yawns beneath your feet to a depth nearly fifty times greater? If you have looked down from the height of the Eiffel tower and called it vertiginous, what shall you say when you are brought to the verge of a gulf at points of which you may drop a plummet five times as far? And when you face, not a mere nar- row frowning gash of incredible depth, but a broad under-world that reaches to the uttermost horizon and seems as vast as the earth itself ; studded with innumerable pyramidal mountains of massive bulk hewn from gaudiest rock-strata, that barely lift the cones and turrets of their crests to the level of the eye ; divided by purple voids ; banded in vivid colors of transparent brilliancy that are harmonized by atmosphere and refraction to a marvelous deli- cacy; controlled by a unity of idea that redeems the whole from the menace of overwhelming chaos — then, surely, you may be pardoned if your pen halts. An inferno, swathed in soft celestial fires ; a whole chaotic under-world, just emptied of primeval 78 floods and waiting for a new creative word ; a boding, terrible thing, unflinchingly real, yet spectral as a dream, eluding all sense of perspective or dimension, outstretching the faculty of measure- ment, overlapping the confines of definite appre- hension. The beholder is at first unimpressed by any detail ; he is overwhelmed by the ensemble of a stupendous panorama, a thousand square miles in extent, that lies wholly beneath the eye, as if he stood upon a mountain peak instead of the level brink of a fearful chasm in the plateau whose opposite shore is thirteen miles away. A labyrinth of huge architectural forms, endlessly varied in design, fretted with ornamental devices, festooned with lacelike webs formed of talus from the upper cliffs and painted with every color known to the palette in pure transparent tones of marvelous deli- cacy. Never was picture more harmonious, never flower more exquisitely beautiful. It flashes instant communication of all that architecture and paint- ing and music for a thousand years have gropingly striven to express. The panorama is the real overmastering charm. It is never twice the same. Although you think you have spelt out every temple and peak and escarpment, as the angle of sunlight changes there begins a ghostly advance of colossal forms from the farther side, and what you had taken to be the ultimate wall is seen to be made up of still other isolated sculptures, revealed now for the first time by silhouetting shadows. 79 Loiif^ may the visitor loiter upon the rim, pow- erless to shake loose from tlie charm, tirelessly intent upon the silent transformations until the sun is low in the west. Then the canyon sinks into mysterious purple shadow, the far Shinumo Altar is tipped with a golden ray, and against a leaden horizon the long line of the Echo Cliffs reflects a soft brilliance of indescribable beauty, a light that, elsewhere, surely never was on sea or land. Then darkness falls, and should there be a moon, the scene in part revives in silver light, a thousand spectral forms projected from inscrutable gloom ; dreams of mountains, as in their sleep they brood on things eternal. Some of the best descriptive writers have pre- pared accounts of this wonderful gorge and its surroundings. Major Powell, Captain Dutton, G.Wharton James, F. S. Dellenbaugh, and others, have written magnificent volumes on this theme, and there are graceful pages devoted to the subject in the book and magazine writings of such men as Charles Dudley Warner, C. F. Lummis, Joaquin Miller and Hamlin Garland. It has been sympa- thetically painted by landscape artists like Moran, Daingerfield, Symons, Williams, Potthast, Parshall and Ritschel; while men like Elmendorf, Holmes, Monsen and Brigham have portrayed its grandeur on the lecture platform. Fortunately the way to the canyon is now easy. Instead of the old route from Flagstafif, a two days' 8i stage journey twice a week, in summer only, the tourist can now make the trip in three hours by rail any day in the year. Travelers holding through tickets who wish to visit the canyon are granted stop-overs at Williams, a town of 1,500 inhabitants, noted for its extensive lumber interests. The branch, Williams to the can- yon, is sixty-four miles long. Two daily trains each make the round trip in six hours. Fray Marcos, the station hotel at Williams, under Harvey management, is up to the Santa Fe standard of excellence. It is built with wide porticos, like an old Spanish mission, and has pleasant guest rooms. The restaurant, lobby and large Indian room are tastefully furnished in arts and crafts style. While the Grand Canyon may be reached by private conveyance from Flagstaff, in open weather, the main travel is by way of Williams. The railway terminus at Bright Angel is in the middle of the granite gorge district. From there one may reach by carriage the eastern and western ends thereof, at Grand View and Bass's. Cataract Canyon, rock- fortress home of the Supai Indians, lies still further west, while north of Grand View is the Little Colorado country and the painted desert. A quarter-of-a-million-dollar hotel, " El Tovar " — named for Pedro de Tovar, one of the officers who accompanied Coronado's expedition through Fray Marcos Hotel, IVilliams THE RIVER, FOOT OF BRIGHT ANGEL TRAIL. fe^'^^^ O . V ^ Arizona in 1540 — under management of Fred Harvey, occupies a site 7,000 feet above sea- level, close to the canyon rim, at the railway terminus, and not far from the head of Bright Angel trail. El Tovar is a long, low, rambling, rustic edifice, solidly built of native boulders and pine logs. It contains more than a hundred sleeping-rooms with accommodations for nearly 300 guests. All the lux- uries are provided, such as electric light, steam heat, hot and cold water, room telephones, baths, private dining-rooms, a solarium, and music. The furni- ture is of arts and crafts design. The inside finish is mainly peeled slabs, wood in the rough and tinted plaster, with here and there huge wooden beams — for all the world like a big country-club house. The public dining-room is a notable attraction. High -class and adequate accommodations for Grand Canyon travel are thus assured. To accom- modate those desiring less expensive quarters, Bright Angel Camp — old Bright Angel Hotel remodeled — has been opened as an adjunct to El Tovar under Harvey management, on European plan. Adjacent is a unique structure occupied by Hopi and Navaho Indians, who here engage in their curious handicrafts. In this building are also in- stalled several costly Harvey Indian blanket and basket collections. Near by are several hogans, where a number of Navahos live. Expert basket- weavers and pottery-makers are found here. 85 Grand View Hotel is under management of Mr. Berry, who also cares for visitors at his ranch near by. Accommodations for fifty guests. The most remarkable driveway in the world — Hermit Rim Road — extends from El Tovar west- ward along the canyon rim nine miles to head of Hermit Basin, by way of Hopi, Mohave and Pima points. It is thirty feet wide, with central section of crushed rock, rolled hard, making a smooth and dust- less boulevard. Imagine riding for miles along the top of a wall which drops straight down 2,000 feet, with just below that another drop of 1,500 feet. The view takes in the north rim, the temples between, and the tawny Colorado. Hermit Trail has been constructed from the end of Hermit Rim Road, seven miles down Hermit basin and creek to the plateau. This new and safe trail is four feet wide with easy grades Regular operation has been postponed until the river section is finished and rest houses built; but special camping parties from El Tovar, with guides, can go down as far as the plateau. To fairly see the Grand Canyon in this vicinity, one should plan to stay at least four days; a week would be better. In a month one might see the greater part of the accessible area bor- dering the principal trails. 86 Cataract Canyon CLIFF AND CAVE DWELLINGS. This region abounds in ruins of the dwellings of a prehistoric people. The most important lie within a radius of eight miles from Flagstaff. On the southeast, Walnut Canyon breaks the plateau for a distance of several miles, its walls deeply eroded in horizontal lines. In these recesses, floored and roofed by the more enduring strata, the cliff dwell- ings are found in great number, walled up on the front and sides with rock fragments and cement, and partitioned into compartments. Some have fallen into decay, only portions of their walls remaining, and but a narrow shelf of the once broad floor of solid rock left to evidence their extreme antiquity. Others are almost wholly intact, having stubbornly resisted the weathering of time. Nothing but fragments of pottery now remain of the many quaint implements and trinkets that characterized these dwellings at the time of their discovery. Fixed like swallows' nests upon the face of a precipice, approachable from above or below only by deliberate and cautious climbing, these dwell- ings have the appearance of fortified retreats rather than habitual abodes. That there was a time, in the remote past, when warlike peoples of mysteri- ous origin passed southward over this plateau, is generally credited. And the existence of the cliff- 87 dwellings is ascribed to the exigencies of that dark period, when the inhabitants of the plateau, unable to ( ope with the superior energy, intelligence and numbers of the descending hordes, devised these unassailable retreats. All their quaintness and antiquity can not conceal the deep pathos of their being, for tragedy is written all over these poor hovels hung between earth and sky. Their build- ers hold no smallest niche in recorded history. Their aspirations, their struggles and their fate are all unwritten, save on these crumbling stones, which are their sole monument and meager epi- taph. Here once they dwelt. They left no other print on time. At an equal distance to the north of Flagstaff, among the cinder-buried cones, is one whose sum- mit commands a wide-sweeping view of the plain. Upon its apex, in the innumerable spout-holes that were the outlet of ancient eruptions, are the cave- dwellings, around many of which rude stone walls still stand. The story of these habitations is like- wise wholly conjectural. They may have been contemporary with the clifi dwellings. That they were long inhabited is clearly apparent. Frag- ments of shattered pottery lie on every hand. Hotel Escalante, Ash Fork, Ariz. CENTRAL AND SOUTHERN ARIZONA. From Ash Fork, the Santa Fe, Prescott &c Phoenix Railway (a Santa Fe line) extends southward through Prescott to Phoenix in the Sah River Valley. In a distance of about 200 miles the traveler is afforded glimpses of nearly every variety of scenery typical of Arizona. There are bleak, barren mountains, and mountains covered with forests of pine or cedar, on whose slopes are seen the dumps of world-famous mines. There are rocky desert wastes where only uncouth cacti find footing to give some poor sem- blance of life and hope, and vast arid stretches which in early spring are overspread with flowers, among which the poppy predominates and by virtue of its superior size and brilliancy carpets the ground with an almost unbroken sheet of tawny flame, far as the eye can Teach on either hand. There are waterless can\ons, and canyons walling turbid streams, unreclaimed vales dotted with cattle, and broad irrigated valley-plains level as a floor, where is cultivated in extraordinary profusion nearly every variety of fruit, nut and vegetable, not absolutely restricted to the tropics, in addition to an enor- mous acreage of alfalfa and the ordinary cereals of the north temperate zone. Were it not that modern tourists are somewhat h/ase with respect to landscape wonders, and if Arizona did not seem so far off, so out of the world, ,^-«>^ i' '4 \ . ^I >w ii^ Prescoti it would be as much a fad to visit Point of Rocka (once an Apache stronghold) , near Prescott, as to see the Garden of the Gods. The first-named is a more striking bit of rock grotesquerie and fash- ioned in more titanic form. Ash Fork, instead of merely being as heretofore a railroad junction, now makes a strong bid for tour- ist patronage. A large $150,000 Fred Harvey depot hotel, the Escalante, has been opened there. Wise travelers arrange to stop over at Ash Fork, en route to the Salt River Valley, and "rest up." This hotel was named after one of the Spaniards of the Conquest, Padre Francisco Silvestre Velez Escalante, a pioneer Franciscan priest, who jour- neyed through this country in 1776. Hotel Escalante is of steel and concrete fireproof construction, built with wide shady verandas in the fascinating Old Mission style. Here one may find all the luxuries of the metropolis — hot and cold water, baths, steam heat, telephones and electric light. The pretty curio building near by contains ex- amples of the best Indian and Mexican handicraft. It is a very pleasant place in which to while away an idle hour. Going south, one naturally expects warmer weather. Nevertheless it comes as a surprise to note how abrupt is the transition from bleak winter to budding spring, or from spring to full midsum- mer, by merely taking the half-day journey from Ash Fork to Phoenix. There is not only an 90 ■■•<-,vii«iiiii::.. ,.«i;,',',.. .... advance into sunland, but a drop toward sea-level of 4,500 feet. In one stretch of fourteen miles the descent is nearly two thousand feet. En route you reach Hassayampa River, near Wickenberg — of which stream it is affirmed that whoever drinks of its waters will never afterward tell the truth, have a dollar, nor leave Arizona. Within a few miles of this unreliable place is the reli- able Vulture Mine, a $20,000,000 producer. The Santa Fe has built a branch line 195 miles long, from Wickenberg via Parker, on the Colorado River, to a junction with the main California line at Cadiz, Both north and south of Prescott some pretty engineering problems have been solved by rock-cuts, trestles, detours, and loops. At Cedar Glade is a steel bridge 650 feet long, spanning Hell Canyon, 170 feet above the dry stream bed.. Here in a gorge uptilted rock-pillars and tremendous bowlders lying shoulder to shoulder contest the passage ; yonder, on a slope, you may see far below a second parallel track, and below that a third forming a sweeping loop by which the safe descent of the train is accomplished and the ascent of the opposite side made possible. The way is now cautiously over volcanic beds and rock terraces; then daringly along the sheer faces of forbidding cliffs ; and again with a rush and swing freely across level plains. The developed agricultural and horticultural areas are in the neighborhood of Phoenix, the State capital and chief city of Salt River Valley. The climate is especially friendly to invalids, even during 91 the hot suniiiKT montlis, hut as in the case of other Southwestern health and pleasure resorts, winter brings the influx of visitors. The beneficent efifect of this climate upon the sick, or upon those who merely seek an enjoyable retreat from the harsh winter of the North and East, is not easily exag- gerated. The soft air has a tonic quality. Low humidity, perpetual sunshine and favorable breezes tempt the invalid out of doors and prolong life. Whitelaw Reid writes that nowhere has he seen a purer atmosphere. It reminds him of the Great Sahara and Mount Sinai's deserts. He con- siders southern Arizona as drier than Morocco, Algiers or Tunis, and more sunshiny than Egypt. Pulmonary and throat diseases are benefited to a degree that borders on the miraculous. In addition to a full complement of hotels, sani- tariums and hospitals, a feature is made of " tenting out" in the open desert all winter, to get full benefit of sun, air and country quiet. But Phoenix is not wholly a refuge for the sick. It is a busy city of 15,000 inhabitants, mainly composed of strenuous Americans, where merchants thrive and wealth accumulates. For the fashionable visitors and the "idle born" there are provided golf grounds, palm-shaded drives, clubs, theaters, the ease of well-kept inns, and a delightful social life. Many wealthy Easterners stay in Phoenix at least a part of each winter. Strangers will be interested in the Pima and Mari- copa Indians, who live near the city and who are 93 Pha-nix daily seen on its streets disposing of baskets, bead- work, pottery and mesquite. The wholly up-to- date youthful Indian may be observed at the U. S. Indian Industrial School. In the foothills of the Bradshaw Mountains, 1,971 feet above sea-level, midway between Pres- cott and Phoenix, and reached by automobile and stage from Hot Springs Junction, is Castle Hot Springs, a high-class Fall, Winter and Spring resort which offers the many joys of life in the open from Fall until late Spring. The hotel comprises three separate buildings and five bungalows, modernly equipped with all the conveniences that appeal to the experienced traveler. There are electric light- ing, cold storage and steam systems, also private bath in connection with most of the rooms. The table is excellent. The two bath houses are equipped for the administration of hot medicinal water by various methods. The mineral water is a mild lithia, slightly alkaline- saline chalybeate, and very beneficial. Castle Hot Springs is not a sanitarium, but a high-class resort. Social life in Ingleside, a suburban town nine miles northeast of Phoenix, cen- ters at the Ingleside Club, a graceful structure with Castle Hot Springs annex bungalows. It is a family club, plus golf links and other outdoor sports. Sir Gilbert Parker, the novelist, highly commends this unique resort. The valley, of vi'hich Phoenix is the center, is one of marvelous loveliness, which only the painter's art can convey to one who has not beheld it. Of the valleys of the West, there are four pre-eminent in beauty — the San Gabriel and Santa Clara in California, the valley of Salt Lake in Utah, and this of the Salt River in Arizona. Across the rest- ful and infinitely modulated green of orchard and shade trees, of alfalfa and barley fields, of orange groves and palms, the eye is led to a distant horizon of rugged mountains, where shifting light and shadow make an endless play of color, astonishingly vivid to a traveler new to desert landscapes, and unceasingly attractive day after day. It is for this Salt River Valley that the United States Government, with the assistance of the people to be benefited, has constructed the Roose- velt Dam, one of the largest irrigating projects in the world, which will place under certain irrigation additional land of exceeding fertility and will make desirable farm homes for intending settlers. The earth here lies full-faced to the sun, as level as a calm sea, widening to twenty miles and extending east and west nearly a hundred. The sandy soil produces abundantly. On a few acres one may make a fair living. The result of this happy combination of salubrious climate, fertile soil, commercial activity and 94 congenial society, is to make Phoenix a peculiarly favored place for the traveler's attention. Prescott is a lively town of 5,0OO population, its business district newly built from the ashes of a destructive fire in 1900. Up in the high hills, a mile above the sea, what wonder that the summers are cool ! Prescott's growth largely depends upon the mineral wealth that is being coaxed out of the reluctant Arizona mountains — a substantial basis of prosperity. The city is also a summer resort for those v/ho wish to escape the heat of the low-lying val- leys. Here is located historic Fort Whipple, the frontier post so frequently referred to in Captain Charles King's novels. That peak, rising 9,000 feet skyward, is Granite Mountain; you would hardly guess it is all of twelve miles away. The greatest mineral development is in the vicin- ity of Prescott. Here, among other famous depos- its, are the United Verde copper mines and the Congress and Rich Hill gold mines, the last named situated upon an isolated summit, where, in early days, gold was literally whittled from the rock with knives and chisels. The branch lines from Prescott to Crown King have made easy of access the rich gold and copper mines of that flourishing district. Congress, four miles from the junction, is a model mining town. The United Verde copper mine is at Jerome, which place is reached by a crooked nar- row-gauge line built through a wild country. /'Afi'' IV. SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA. A FEW miles beyond the Colorado River cross- ing at Needles is the railroad station of that name, where the remnant of the once powerful and warlike Mojave tribe, now become beggarly hangers-on to civilization, love to congregate and sell their bows and arrows and pottery trinkets. Their hovels are scattered along the wayside, and the eager congregation of women peddlers, some with naked babies sitting stoically astride their hips, and all dubiously picturesque in paint and rags, is sufficiently diverting. The men attain gigantic stature, and are famed for their speed and bottom as runners. River boats occasionally ply between the Gulf of California and Needles. The town is a Santa Fe division point, and parties outfit here for the mines roundabout, 96 As a natural winter resort this locality has few > superiors in all the broad health-restoring region of the great Southwest. When the eastern winter is most rigorous, and scores of world-famous resorts are only half-way comfortable, Needles is basking under summery skies As a rule the days are warm and invigorating, without sudden and radical change of temperature. The Colorado river is convenient for boating and fishing. Tourists will be interested, too, in the mystic maze of the Mojave Indians, ten miles eastward, reached by saddle horses. A three-days invigorating round trip in the saddle takes one along the river trail to the home of the Chemehuevi Indians and affords some unique mountain views, such as Eagle Moun- tain and Black Buttes. Recognizing the natural merit of Needles as a winter home and a business center, wide-verandahed El Garces has been erected — ^the new hospitable station hotel of the Santa Fe, two stories in height, 518 feet long, with sixty-five guest-rooms and a dining-room seating 120 persons. It is named in honor of Padre Francisco Garces, who journeyed through this region in 1771-1774. As an introduction to Southern California you are borne across an arid region, whose monotony intercepts every approach to California except that roundabout one by way of the sea. On either hand lies a drear stretch of sand and alkali-, relieved only by black patches of lava and a mountainous horizon — a Nubian desert in very truth. Through this the 97 ^^ ^^,^^ 'l:?!?'lll>i*i»iP«iWinrrn«W^ (new Et Garces Hotel train hastens to a more elevated country, arid still, but relieved by rugged rocks, the gnarled trunks and bolls of the yucca and occasional grow^ths of deciduous trees. Craters of extinct volcanoes form interesting landmarks, and there are a number of rich mining districts tributary to the line, but unseen from the train. A strange river, the Mojave, keeps company with the track for several miles, flowing gently northward, to finally lose itself in thirsty sand. At Hesperia are vineyards — first hint of the paradise just over the range. THE WORLD'S TREASURE VAULT. When the west-bound Santa Fe train crosses the Colorado River, it enters the largest county in the United States. Sterile as is its appearance, it is yet a region of uncountable wealth. Precious and base metals, as well as rare gems, are found in the ledges which seam every mountain range, while the valleys are a vast storehouse of borax, soda, gypsum, nitre, salt and many other chemical compounds which are in constant demand. And desert though this country has been called, there are yet great stretches of land where the most bounteous har- vests may be gathered, provided water is spread over it. Strangely enough, the precious fluid has been found in abundance where it was supposed not to be, and so near the surface that it is no task to raise and distribute it. Cajon Pass In almost the geographical center of this great i domain, named San Bernardino County, is Ludlow, a station on the Santa Fe main line and the south- ern terminus of the Tonopah & Tidewater Rail- road. This new artery of commerce was opened for business in 1907. It was built primarily to supersede the " 20- mule - team borax" wagons which formerly hauled this widely used product from the depths of Death Valley to railway transporta- tion more than a hundred miles away. A branch hne to the Lila C mine afifords easy handling of the crystallized Colmanite or. borax-bearing ores. The ringing of the engine bell on this first through train sounded the death-knell of another wide section of the Great American Desert. It was answered by the huzzahs of hardy pioneers, standing at the mouths of tunnels and shafts on a hundred mountain sides. They had braved the hardships of remote regions to find and develop the great ore bodies awaiting their coming. Now their patience was justified, for the train meant a market for their ores and easy acquisition of life's comforts. The prospector now no longer fears that his pack-train will sufifer thirst while crossing from one mountain range to another. A short detour brings him to a plenteous supply of water, developed by the railroad builders. The opening of the Tonopah & Tidewater also made accessible that weird rift in earth's surface between the Funeral Range and the Panamints, known as Death Valley. The floor of this mighty 99 % i«iijff3ii^^^^^ ^■■y>^^ _^- g^^v^^V^- '^^i^' Cam del Daitrto. sink is nearly 300 feet below scalevel and is covered in greater part by an incrustation of alkali com- pounds, vvhich resemble, at a distance, a blanket of snow. In this one-time caldron nature's forces are everywhere apparent. It is a most interesting spot for the student, the scientist and the treasure- hunter, while the health-seeker, for eight months of the year, can there rejuvenate his worn nerves and enjoy a perfect climate. The Tonopah & Tidewater is the shortest and quickest route to Rhyolite, Bullfrog, Beatty, Springdale, Bonnie Claire, Goldfield, Tonopah and other bonanza mining camps of Nevada, whose rich ores have caused the building of thriving cities where a few years ago were only bare hill- sides and sage-brush-covered plains. These offer to men of affairs golden opportunities for invest- ment and large returns, while the mere curiosity- seeker will there find much that is unique and educating. At Barstow, junction of the San Francisco and Southern California Lines of the Santa Fe, is the newest of the station hotels managed by Fred Harvey. Architecturally it is of the Spanish Renaissance, tapestry brick with red tile roof, and appropriately named Casa del Desierto, the "house of the desert." SOUTH OF CAJON PASS. The Santa Ana and San Gabriel Valleys of Southern California are entered through the Cajon Pass. It is the loveliest imaginable scene, a gently billowing mountain flank densely set with thickets of manzanita, gleaming through whose glossy foliage iinl red stems the pale earth rises here and there in :raceful dunes of white, iinflecked by grass or shrub, overhung by parallel-terraced ridges of the San Ber- nardino Mountains, that pale in turn to a topmost height far in the blue Italian sky. Entirely want- ing in the austerity that characterizes the grander mountains of loftier altitudes, it takes you from the keeping of plateau and desert, and by seductive windings leads you down to the garden of California. In the descent from the summit (altitude 3,819 feet) a drop of 2,700 feet is made in twenty-five miles. On reaching San Bernardino, typical scenes at once appear. On either hand are seen orchards of the peach, apricot, prune, olive, fig, almond, walnut, and that always eagerly anticipated one of the orange. You will not, however, find this whole land a jungle of orange and palm trees, parted only by thick banks of flowers. The world is wide, even in California, or, one might better say, particularly in California, where over an area averaging 150 miles wide and i,ooo miles long is scattered a population slightly in excess of that of Chicago. It is true that in many places along 3'our route you may almost pluck oranges by reaching from the car window in passing ; but the celebrated products of California lie in restricted areas of cultivation, which you are expected to visit ; and herein lies much of the Californian's pride, that there still remains so much of opportunity for all. There is everything in California that has been credited to it, but what proves not uncommonly a surprise is the relatively smalJ area of improved land and the consequent frequency of unfructed intervals. Only a moment's reflection is needed to perceive that the case could not be otherwise. As for flowers, even here they are not eternal, except in the thousands of watered gardens. In the dry summer season the hills turn brown and sleep. Only when the winter rains have slaked the parched earth do the grass and flowers awake, and then for a few months there is enough of bloom and fragrance to satisfy the most exuber- ant fancy. Now past pretty horticultural communities, flanked by the Sierra Madre, the way leads quickly from San Bernardino to Pasadena and Los Angeles. Southw-ard from the last-named city you pass through a fruitful region, and within a stone's throw of the impressive mission-ruins of Capistrano, to a shore where the long waves of the Pacific break upon gleaming white sands and the air is of the sea. Blue as the sky is the Pacific, paling in the shallows toward land, and flecked with bright or somber cloud reflections and smurring ripples of the breeze. It is not only the westerly bound of the North American continent, it is the South Seas of old adventure, where many a hulk of once treasure- laden galleons lies fathoms deep among the queer denizens of the sea who repeat wild legends of naughty buccaneers. There is challenge to the imagination in the very tracklessness of the sea. I02 ri 1 On the wrinkled face of earth you may read earth's story. She has laid things to heart. She broods on memories. But the sea denies the past ; it is as heedless of events that were as the air is of the path where yesterday a butterfly was winging. Its incontinent expanse is alluring to the fancy, and this sunset sea even more than the tempestuous ocean that beats upon our eastern shores, for it is so lately become our possession it seems still a foreign thing, strewn with almost as many wrecks of Spanish hopes as of galleons; and into its broad bosom the sun sinks to rise upon quaint anti- podean peoples, bej'^ond a thousand mysterious inhabited islands in the swirls of the equatorial currents. Next, swinging inland to find the pass of the last intervening hills, you make a final descent to the water's edge, and come to San Diego, that city of Mediterranean atmosphere and color, ter- raced along the rim of a sheltered bay of surpassing beauty. Guarding the mouth of the harbor lies the long crescent peninsula of Coronado, the pale fagades of whose mammoth hotel flash through tropical vegetation across the blue intervening waters. OF CLIMATE. Here the sun habitually shines. Near the coast flows the broad, equable Japanese ocean-current, from which a tempered breeze sweeps overland every morning, every night to return from the cool mountain-tops. Between the first of May and 103 II the last of October rain almost never falls. By the end of June the earth has evaporated most of its surface moisture, and vegetation unsustained by artificial watering begins to languish. The mid- day temperature now rises, but the same breeze swings between ocean and mountain, and night and ear'y morning are no less invigorating. With November the first showers generally begin, followed by an occasional heavy downpour, and Northern pastures now whiten under falling snow hardly faster than do these sere hills turn beryl-green. The rainy season is so called not because it is characterized by continuous rainfall, but to distinguish it from that portion of the year in which rain can not be looked for. Bright days are still the rule, and showery days are marked by |c transcendent beauties of earth and sky, fleeting wonders of form and color. Let the morning open ij with a murky zenith, dark tumbled cloud-masses, \ dropping showers. As the invisible sun mounts, he peeps through a rift to see that his world is safe, then vanishes. The sky has an unrelenting look, j The dim, guardian mountains are obscured, Sud- ^ denly, far to the left, a rift breaks dazzling white, just short of where the rain is falling on the hills in a long bending column, and at one side a broad patch pales into mottled gray ; and below the rift a light mist is seen floating on the flank of a moun- tam that shoots into sharp relief against a vapor- wall of slate. At the mountain's foot a whole hillside shows in warm brown tint, its right edge 104 merged in a low flat cloud of silver, born, you could aver, on the instant, from which the trun- > atcd base of a second mountain depends, blue as indigo. The face of earth, washed newl}'', is a patchwork of somber and gaudy transparent colors — yellows, greens, sepias, graj's. One's range and clearness of vision are quickly expanded, as when a telescope is fitted to the eye. Now begins a won- derful shifting of light and shadow, peeps through a curtain that veils unbearable splendors of upper sky ; gradual dissolutions of cloud into curls and twists and splashes, with filling of blue between. Again the sun appears, at first with a pale bur- nished light, flashing and fading irresolutely until at length it flames out with summer ardor. The clouds break into still more curious forms, into pic- tures and images of quaint device, and outside a wide circle of brilliant sunlight all the hills are in purple shadow, fading into steel-blue, and about their crests cling wisps of many-colored fleece. Here and there a distant peak is blackly hooded, or gleams subtly behind an intervening shower — a Tehachapi Loop thin transparent wash of smoky hue. The veil quickly dissipates, and at the same instant the peak is robbed of its sunh'ght by billows of vapor that marshal in appalling magnificence. Then the rain- mist advances and hides the whole from view. A strip of green next flashes on the sight, a distant field lighted by the sun, but lying unaccountably beneath a cloud of black. Beyond, the broad foot of a rainbow winks and disappears. Among all the hilltops rain next begins to fall like amber smoke, so thin is the veil that shields them from the sun. Then the sun abruptly ceases to shine, the whole heavens are overcast, and between the fine fast-fall- ing drops the ground gleams wet in cool gray light. By noon the sun again is shining clear, although in occasional canyons there is night and deluge, and at the close of a bright afternoon the farthest, loftiest peak has a white cloud wreath around it, as symmetrical as a smoke-ring breathed from the lips of a senorita ; and out of the middle of it rises the fragment of a rainbow — a cockade on a mist- laureled Matterhorn. Then the sun drops, and the day is done. That is the way it rains in California, and between such days are unclouded intervals of considerable duration. They call this season winter. The temperature is so finely balanced one does not easily decide whether to walk upon the sunny or the shady side of the street. It is cool, not cold — not bracing in the ordinary sense, but just the proper temperature for continuous out-of-door life. 107 ::i^:^tiii2^^ -: J* June does not define it, nor September. It has no synonym. But if you cared to add one more to the many unsuccessful attempts to define it in a phrase, you might term it constant delicious weather ; to- day, to-morrow, and indefinitely in the future, morally certain to be very much as you would have it if you were to create an air and a sky exactly to suit his or her majesty yourself. But even here man is a clothes-wearing animal. There is a cool- ness pervading the most brilliant sunshine. Remem- bering this, the most apprehensive person will soon discover that there is no menace in the dry, pure, and gently invigorating air of the Southern Cali- fornia winter. It wins the invalid to health by enticing him to remain out of doors. Ranging from warm sea-level to peaks of frigid inclemency, this varied state offers many climatic gradations, whose contrasts are nearly always in view. In winter you may sit upon almost any veranda in Southern California and lift your eyes from the brilliant green of ornamental trees and shrubs, from orchards where fruits ripen in heavy clusters, and from the variegated bloom of gar- dens, to ragged horizon-lines buried deep in snow. There above is a frozen waste and Alpine terror. Here below is summer, shorn of summer languor. And between may be found any modification that could reasonably be sought, each steadfast in its own characteristics. The smallest of these communities is great in content. Literally couched beneath his own vine loS ■ and fig-tree, plucking from friendly boughs delicious fruits, finding in the multifarious products of the soil nearly everything needful in domestic economy, and free from most of the ills that flesh was thought to be heir to, what wonder that the Californian '■ envies no man, nor ever looks wistfully over the ' Sierra's crest toward the crowded cities and preca- rious farming regions of the East? An uplifting environment for a home, truly, fit to breed a race worthy of the noblest empire among the States. There is work to be done, in the house and the field, but in such an air and scene it is as near a transfiguration of labor as can well be imagined. Here it is indeed a poor boy or girl who has not a pony on which to scamper about, or lacks liberty for such enjoyment. And every year there comes a period of holiday, an interval when there is no planting or harvesting to be done, no picking or drying or packing of fruit, a recuperating spell of nature, when the weather is just as glorious as ever, and the mountains and ocean beckon seductively to the poet that is in the heart of every unharassed man and woman and child. Then for weeks the canyons are dotted with tents, where the mountain- torrents foam and spreading sycamores are festooned with mistletoe ; and the trout of the stream and the game of the forest have their solstice of woe. Or, ^0-y I j:^f.n/<^" on the rim of the sea, thousands of merry hearts, both young and old, congregate and hold high car- nival. When the campers return to shop and field it is not by reason of any inclemency of weather, but because their term of holiday has expired. Then come the tourists, and pale fugitives from the butfets of Boreas, to wander happily over hill- side and shore in a land unvexed by the tyranny of the seasons. The most seductive of lands, and the most tena- cious in its hold upon you. You have done but little, and a day has fled; have idled, walked, rid- den, sailed a little, have seen two or three of the thousand things to be seen, and a week, a month, is gone. You could grieve that such golden bur- denless hours should ever go into the past, did they not flow from an inexhaustible fount. For to be out all day in the careless freedom of perfect weather ; to ramble over ruins of a former occupa- I tion; to wander through gardens and orchards; to fish, to shoot, to gather flowers from the blossom- ing hill-slopes; to explore a hundred fascinating retreats of mountain and shore; to lounge on the sands by the surf until the sun drops into the sea; all this is permitted by the Southern California winter. SAN DIEGO AND VICINITY. Fringing a bay that glows like a golden mirror below its purple rim, San Diego (population 85,000) stands upon a slope that rises from the water to the summit of a broad mesa. In front the bold promontory of Point Loma juts into the sea, over- lapping the low, slender peninsular of Coronado, and between them lies the entrance to this most beautiful of harbors. One may be happy in San Diego and do nothing. Its soft, sensuous beauty and caressing air create in the breast a new sense of the joy of mere existence. But there is, besides, abundant material for the sight-seer. Here, with many, begins the first acquaintance with the growing orange and lemon. Orchards are on every hand. Paradise Valley, the Valley of the Sweet- water, where may be seen the great irrigating fount of so many farms, and Mission Valley, where the San Diego River flows and the dismantled ruin of I'niversal Brotherhood Buildings, Point Loma iS^ the oldest of California's missions, elbowed by a modern Indian school, watches over its ancient but still vigorous trees — afiford the best examples of those growing fruits in the immediate neighborhood. El Cajon Valley has approximately 13,000 acres. It is reached by boulevards and by the San Diego, Cuyamaca and Eastern Railroad. The soil is a decomposed granite. During the season of 1911 more than 1700 carloads of agricultural products were shipped from this valley, which not only is lovely to the eye, but tempting to the fruit-grower and rancher. Nuvida Springs, twelve miles from San Diego, in the mountains at an altitude of some 500 feet, is a resort which is coming into prominence on ac- count of the curative mineral water, beauty of surroundings, and excellent accommodations for visitors. National City, four miles southward, has exten- sive olive orchards and is destined to become com- mercially important as part of the development along the water front of San Diego Bay. It has thirty-five miles of evergreen-shaded residence streets, substantial business blocks, and is the ter- minal of the Santa Fe Lines. Fifteen miles below San Diego is the quaint Mexican village of Tia Juana, quite un-American with its large ring for bull fights, its curio shops and motley groups of picturesquely clad natives. On the west side of Point Loma is Ocean Beach, reached by electric cars from San Diego. 8 113 Nine miles down the Bay, with daily ferry service, is South San Diego. One mile farther west, on the Pacific Ocean, reached by motor-car service from South San Diego dock, is Imperial Beach, noted for its long stretch of white sand and shallow water; here a new hotel has been built. Jamacha, Dehesa, Jamul, Campo, Potrero and Encinitas are other charming little home towns. San Diego now has adequate hotel accommoda- tions. The U. S. Grant Hotel, in the heart of the business district, fronting on the old Plaza, is the most important recent addition. Built and equipped at a cost approaching two million dollars, it equals the finest of Los Angeles inns in service. This pride of San Diego is constructed of reinforced concrete and steel, has 500 guest rooms, is fire- proof and open all the year. Hotel Robinson is pleasantly situated on a breezy height near the down-town district, with a wide outlook across the blue bay. It has two hundred guest rooms, a roof garden, palm court and sun parlor. Many other smaller hotels lately have been completed or are in course of construction. The San Diego Tours Company offers numer- ous trips in and around San Diego. Their large autos take one quickly out over the new boule- vard to Point Loma, to the old lighthouse and Ocean Beach. Other trips are made by this company's service to La Jolla, "old town" and the natural caves ; to Grossmont and Lakeside ; to the Coronado Islands, with their marine gardens 114 ^x'Oi. Hotel Robinson, San Diego and seal rookeries ; to Coronado ; and to Tia Juana, in old Mexico. On the crest of Point Loma a group of build- ings stands out against the azure sky. This is the settlement of the Universal Brotherhood, a branch of the Theosophical Society, presided over by Mrs. Catharine Tingley. A large amount of money already has been expended on the buildings and grounds. The diverse allurements of mountain and valley, and northward-stretching shore of alternating beach and high commanding blufif, are innumerable. One marvelous bit of coast, thirteen miles away, and easily reached by railway or carriage drive, is called La Jolla Park. Here a plateau overlooks the open sea from a bluf^ that tumbles precipitously to a narrow strip of sand. The face of the clifif for a distanceof several miles has been sculptured by the waves into most curious forms. Loosened fragments have worn deep symmetrical wells, or pot-holes, to which the somewhat inadequate Spanish-Indian name of the place is due. Some of the cavities are mere pockets lined with mussels and minute weeds with calcareous leaves. Others are commodious, secluded apartments, quite commonly used as dress- ing-rooms by bathers. The real caverns can be entered dryshod only at lowest tide. The cliff 115 U. S. Grant Hotel, San Diego ■^ |jnt|j- Coronado Tciii City where they he is gnawed into columns, arches and aisles, through which one cave after another may be seen, dimly lighted, dry and practicable. Sev- enty-five feet is probably their utmost depth. The water is as pellucid as a mountain spring. Sea-anemones are thickly clustered upon the lower levels, their tinted petal-filaments scintillating in the shallow element, or closed budlike while waiting for the flood. Little crabs scamper in dis- orderly procession through the crevices at your approach, and the ornamental abalone is also abundant. Seaweeds, trailing in and out with the movement of the tide, flame through the trans- parent water in twenty shades of green, and schools of goldfish flash in the swirling current. In the time of flowers this whole plateau is covered with odorous bloom. Then there is Coronado. Connected by ferry with the mainland, Coronado bears the same rela- tion to San Diego that fashionable suburbs bear to many Eastern cities, and at the same time afifords recreative pleasures which the inhabitants of those suburbs must go far to seek. Here the business- man dwells in Elysian bowers by the sea, screened from every reminder of business cares, yet barely a mile distant from the office. Locking up in his desk at evening all the prosaic details of bank or factory, of lailroad rates, of the price of stocks The Japanese Garden, Coronado and real estate and wares, in twenty minutes he is at home on what is in effect a South Sea Island, where brant and curlew and pelican fly, and not all the myriad dwellings and the pomp of their one architectural splendor can disturb the air of perfect restfulness and sweet rusticity. From the low ridge of the narrow peninsula may be seen, upon the one hand, a wide-sweeping mountainous arc, dipping to the pretty city that borders the bay. Upon the other, the unobstructed ocean rolls. On the ocean side, just beyond reach of the waves, stands the hotel whose magnificence has given it leading rank among the famous hostelries of the world . It is built around a quadrangular court, or patio — a dense garden of rare shrubs and flowering plants more than an acre in extent. Upon this patio many sleeping-rooms open by way of the cir- cumjacent balcony, besides fronting upon ocean and bay, and a glass-covered veranda, extending nearly the entire length of the western frontage, looks over the sea toward the peaks of the distant Coronado Islands. On the north lies Point Loma and the harbor entrance, on the east San Diego Bay and city, and on the south Glorieta Bay and the mountains of Mexico, beyond a broad half-circle of lawn dotted with semi-tropical trees and bright beds of flowers, and bordered by hedges of cypress. Here the fisherman has choice of surf or billow, or the still surface of sheltered waters; of sailboat, skiff or iron pier. The gunner finds no lack of 119 sea-fowl, quail or rabbits. The bather may choose between surf and huge tanks of salt water, roofed with glass, fringed with flowers and fitted with devices to enhance his sport. The sight- seer is provided with a score of special local attrac- tions, and all the resources of the mainland are at elbow. These diversions are the advantage of geo- graphical location, independent of the social recre- ations- one naturally finds in fashionable resorts, at hotels liberally managed and frequented by represen- tatives of the leisure class. In addition to the manifold attractions of Coro- nado is the summer tent city on the cool beach, where neatly furnished cloth houses may be rented by those who desire to get into closer touch with nature than they would in a modern hotel. Res- taurants, stores and other facilities are provided for the comfort of those who camp here, and in sea- son music and special entertainment are added to the natural attractions. The climate of the coast is necessarily distin- guished from that of the interior by greater humid- ity, and the percentage of invisible moisture in the air, however small, must infallibly be greater at Coronado than upon the heights of San Diego, and greater in San Diego than at points farther removed from the sea. This is the clew to the only flaw in the otherwise perfect coast climate, and it is a flaw only to supersensitive persons, invalids of a certain class. The consumptive too often delays taking advantage of the benefits of climatic change until he has reached a point when nicest discrimination has become necessary. The purest, driest and most rarefied air compatible with the complications of disease is his remedy, if remedy exist for him. And the driest and most rarefied air is not to be looked for by the sea. Yet the difference is not great enough to be brusquely prohibitory. No one need fear to go to the coast, and usually a short stay will determine whether or no the relief that is sought can there be found ; while for many derangements it is preferable to the interior. For him who is not in precarious condition the foregoing observations have no significance. He will find the climate of all Southern California a mere gradation of glory. But perhaps around San Diego, and at one or two other coast points, there will seem to be a spirit even gentler than that which rules the hills. The Arches, Capistrano PANAMA-CALIFORNIA EXPOSITION In 1915 an international exposition, commemora- tive of the completion of the Panama Canal, will be held at Balboa Park, San Diego, beginning New Year's Day and lasting the entire year. Although international in scope, it wisely has been decided that this show-window of the Southwest shall be based upon the romantic history of that period, reaching back to within half a century of the landing of Columbus in the Western world — the era of the old California missions. The deeds of the daring Spanish conquistadors who sailed seeking the lands of the Amazons, or who followed Coronado in quest of the fabled cities of Cibola, or who perished on the desert track down which they sought the golden myth of Quivira, were unique among westward-faring people. Likewise unique was the faith of the brown-robed padres, the daring enterprise of lonely pioneers, braving trackless wastes, and the world-wide trek of treasure-hunters to California. Here, on the long trail of El Camino Real, would seem an appro- priate place to commemorate those who trafficked Exposition Palaces, from Bridge of Cabrillo. hither and thither, "from Darien to Mendocino," from Vera Cruz to Mo-nterey. Only those countries out of which the history of San Diego came are invited to participate. The archaeology and industries of the Southwest are to be dominant features of the exposition. These will be supplemented by similar exhibits of all the tribes and peoples of Mexico, Central America and South America. Gathered within the allotted space will be every- thing artistic, useful and extraordinary which may be found in southwest U. S. A. and the Latin Repub- lics. Every phase of industry and commerce will be exhibited, both in processes and finished product. Yet nothing will be omitted that can assist the homeseeker or investor. In Balboa Park will be presented typical samples of the productive capacity of all Southwestern sections, from experimental stages to commercial output ready for world markets. The setting of this exhibit also will be unusual. It will be an "old-mission" city, upon which has been superimposed the ornate architecture of the Spanish-Colonial period, adopted from the cathe- drals, palaces and mural adornment of Mexican and Spanish-American states, designed and erected by native builders who are guided in their art by the composite Moorish and Byzantine architecture introduced after the Conquest. There will be gates and corridors — patios, arches, tiled roofs and vesti- bules — after the pattern of Puebla, Oaxaca, Guada- lajara and Mexico City. Yet this style of architec- ture will he a distinctive California phase of the art. The International Panama-California Exposition will be educational along useful lines. Backed by San Diego, the State of California and the United States Government, this sister of the World's Fair to be held the same year in San Francisco ought to be a great success. Ground was first broken in July, 1911, To-day four big buildings are completed, and four more are nearly done. Of the other seven, all are underway except one. The great concrete bridge. La Puente Cabrillo, spanning a deep arroyo, and leading into the heart of the magic exposition city from the center of San Diego, is about one-third finished. This giant causeway — 900 feet long and 130 feet high — is a spectacular afifair and will be a permanent structure. Another unique feature is the exposition nursery, with its thirty-five acres of propagating beds, and one hundred acres of growing beds, now comprising seven million plants. Three thousand palms have been transplanted for beautifying the avenues. The fence around the grounds will be of wire netting hidden by flowering vines. The Santa Fe will make a unique exhibit of the picturesque Indian life along its line. - «Mrti(iiiiiijii(iiiii^*''''''f'»'wWi!ifStf"!!'*:'^^^ ..^M AliisioJi San Liih Key. vl^'^ V..'' ^,,"''7ni i'.'t^ •■ *^' '■)'«.' ■ 1 ' O-.. 1..J. San Antnni!) de Padua CAPISTRANO. A tiny quaint village in a fertile valley that slopes from a mountain wall to the sea, unkempt and mongrel, a jumble of adobe ruins, white- washed hovels and low semi-modern structures, straggling like a moraine from the massive ruin of the Mission San Juan Capistrano. The mission dominates the valley. Go where you will, the eye turns to this colossal fragment, a forlorn but vital thing; broken, crushed, and yet undying. Swarthy faces are mingled with the pale Saxon type, the music of the Spanish tongue is heard wherever you hear human speech, and from behind the lattices of the adobes come the tinkle of guitars and the cadence of soft voices in plaintive rhythm. The sun makes black shadows by every house and tree, and sweeps in broad unbroken light over the undu- lating hills to hazy mountain-tops: ground-squirrels 125 scamper across the way, wild doves start up with whisthng wings, and there is song of birds and cry of barnyard fowls. The essence of the scene is passing quiet and peace. The petty noises of the village are powerless to break the silence that enwraps the noble ruin ; its dignity is as imperturb- able as that of mountain and sea. Never was style of architecture more spontaneously in touch with its environment than that followed by the mission builders. It is rhythm and cadence and rhyme. It is perfect art. Earthquake has rent, man has despoiled, time has renounced the Mission San Juan Capistrano, yet its pure nobility survives, indestructible. The tower has fallen, the sanc- tuary is bare and weatherbeaten, the cloisters of the quadrangle are roofless, and the bones of for- gotten padres lie beneath the roots of tangled shrubbery ; but the bells still hang in their rawhide lashings, and the cross rises white against the sky. A contemptuous century has rolled past, and the whole ambitious and once promising dream of monkish rule has long since ended, but this slow cnunbling structvire will not have it so. Like some dethroned and superannuated king, whose insistent claim to royal function cloaks him with a certain grandeur, it sits in silent state too venerable for disrespect and too august for pity. WP • 1 sr { > '15 '// /r^" rail' STORY OF THE MISSIONS. In the middle of the eighteenth century the Span- ish throne, desiring to encourage colonization of its territory of Upper California, then unpeopled save by native Indian tribes, entered into an arrange- ment with the Order of St. Francis by virtue of which that order undertook to establish missions in the new country which were to be the nuclei of future villages and cities, to which Spanish subjects were encouraged to emigrate. By the terms of that arrangement the Franciscans were to possess the mission properties and their revenues for ten years, which was deemed a sufficient period in which to fairly establish the colonies, when the entire prop- erty was to revert to the Spanish government. In point of fact the Franciscans were left in undisputed possession for more than half a century. The monk chosen to take charge of the under- taking was Junipero Serra, a man of saintly piety and energetic character, who in childhood desired only that he might be a priest, and in maturity earnestly wished to be a martyr. Seven years before the Declaration of the Independence of the American Colonies, in the early summer of 1769, he entered the bay of San Diego, 227 years after Cabrillo had discovered it for Spain and 167 years after it had been surveyed and named by Viscaino, during all which preceding time the country had lain fallow. Within two months Serra had founded a mission near the mouth of the San Diego River, . ^Si^'^ r^'kHx luJ Mission San Luis Rey which five years after was removed some six miles up the valley to a point about three miles distant from the present city of San Diego. From that time one mission after another was founded, twenty-one in all, from San Diego along the coast as far north as San Francisco. The most important of these were built of stone and a hard burnt brick that even now will turn the edge of the finest trowel. The labor of their construction was appalling. Brick had to be burnt, stone quarried and dressed, and huge timbers for rafters brought on men's shoulders from mountain forests, sometimes thirty miles distant, through canyons and over trackless hills. The Indians performed most of this labor, under the direction of the fathers. These Indians were tractable, as a rule. Once, or twice at most, they rose against their masters, but the policy of the padres was kindness and forgiveness, although it must be inferred that the condition of the Indians over whom they claimed spiritual and temporal authority was a form of slavery. 128 Pala Mission AVi!7>/"*' //llll'liiiT\t«s' . They were the bondsmen of the padres, whose aim was to convert them to Christianity and civiHza- tion, and many thousands of them were persuaded to cluster around the missions, their daughters becoming neophytes in the convents, and the others contributing their labor to the erection of the enor- mous structures that occupied many acres of ground and to the industries of agriculture, cattle-raising, and a variety of manufactures. There were, after the primitive fashion of the time, woolen-mills, wood-working and blacksmith shops, and such other manufactories as v/ere practicable in the existing state of the arts, which could be made profitable. The mission properties soon became enormously valuable, their yearly revenues sometimes amounting to $2,000,000. The exportation of hides was one of the most important items, and merchant vessels from our own Atlantic seaboard, from England and from Spain, sailed to the California coast for cargoes of that commodity. Dana's romantic and univer- sally read " Two Years Before the Mast " is the record of such a voyage. He visited California more than a half a century ago, and found its quaint Spanish-Indian life full of the picturesque and romantic. The padres invariably selected a site favorable for defense, commanding views of entrancing scenery, on the slopes of the most fertile valleys, and con- venient to the running water which was the safe- 129 MISSION GARDEN, SANTA BARBARA. "^'i'^ '!y^ guard of agriculture in a country of sparse ami i\n- i.c^i^^' certain rainfall. The In- dians, less warlike in nature than the roving {\Z tribes east of the Rockies, were almost uni- J^'-'i^^-., versally submissive. If there was ever an Arcadia it was surely there and then. Against the blue of the sky, unspotted by a single cloud through many months of the year, snow-crowned mountains rose in dazzling relief, while oranges, olives, figs, dates, bananas, and every other variety of temperate and sub-tropical fruit which had been introduced by the Spaniards, ripened in a sun whose ardency was tempered by the dryness of the air into an equability like that of June, while the regularly alternating breeze that daily swept to and from ocean and mountain made summer and winter almost indistinguishable sea- sons, then as now, save for the welcome rains that characterize the latter. At the foot of the valley, between the mountain slopes, and never more than a few miles away, the waters of the Pacific rocked placidly in the brilliant sunlight or broke in foam upon a broad beach of sand. In such a scene Spaniard and Indian plied their peaceful vocations, the one in picturesque national garb, the other almost innocent of cloth- ing, while over and around them lay an atmosphere of sacredness which even to this day clings to the broken arches and crumbling walls. Over the peaceful valleys a veritable angclus rang. The Santa Barbara Mission i FRANCI5C0 5I34NTA CLARA mellow bells of the mission churches summoned dusky hordes to ceremonial devotion. Want and strife were unknown. Prosperity and brotherly love ruled as never before. It is true they had their trials. Earthquakes, which have been almost unknown in California for a quarter of a century, were then not uncommon, and were at times disastrous. Rio de los Temblores was the name of a stream derived from the fre- quency of earth rockings in the region through which it flowed; and in the second decade of our century the dreaded temblor upset the 120-foot tower of the Mission San Juan Capistrano and sent it crashing down through the roof upon a con- gregation, of whom nearly forty perished. Those, too, were lawless times upon the main. Pirates, cruising the South Seas in quest of booty, hovered about the California coast, and then the mission men stood to their arms, while the women and children fled to the interior canyons with their portable treasures. One buccaneer, Bouchard, repulsed in his attempt upon Dolores and Santa Barbara, descended successfully upon ^ another mission and dwelt there riot- ously for a time, carousing, and destroying such valuables as he could not carry away, while the entire population quaked in the forest along the Rio Trabuco. This was the same luckless San Juan Capistrano, six 132 The Missions & Chapeb years after the earthquake visitation. Then, too, there were bickerings of a pohtical nature, and struggles for place, after the rule of Mexico had succeeded to that of Spain, but the common people troubled themselves little with such matters. The end of the Franciscan dynasty came sud- denly with the secularization of the mission property by the Mexican government to replete the exhausted treasuries of Santa Ana. Sadly the fathers forsook the scene of their long labors, and silently the Indians melted away into the wilderness and the darkness of their natural ways, save such as had intermarried with the families of Spanish soldiers and colonists. The churches are now, for the most part, only decayed legacies and fragmen- tary reminders of a time whose like the world will never know again. Save only three or four, pre- served by reverent hands, where modern worship- ers, denationalized and clad in American dress, still kneel and recite their orisons, the venerable ruins are forsaken by all except the tourist and the antiquarian, and their bells are silent forever. But so long as one stone remains upon another, and a single arch of the missions still stands, an atmosphere will abide there, something that does not come from mountain, or vale, or sea, or sky ; the spirit of consecration, it may be. But if it is only the aroma of ancient and romantic associations, the suggestion of a peculiar' phase of earnest and simple human life and quaint environment that is San Gabriel Mission forever past, the mission-ruins must remain among the most interesting monuments in all our varied land, and will amply repay the inconsiderable effort and outlay required to enable the tourist to view them. San Diego, the oldest ; San Luis Rey, the most poetically environed ; San Juan Capistrano, of most tragic memory; San Gabriel, the most impos- ing, and Santa Barbara, the most perfectly pre- served, will suffice the casual sightseer. These also lie comparatively near together, and are all easily accessible ; the first three being located on or adjacent to the railway line between Los Angeles and San Diego, the fourth standing but a few miles from the first named city, and the fifth being almost in the heart of the famous resort that bears its name. Reluctantly will the visitor tear himself from the encompassing charm of their roofless arches and reminiscent shadows. They are a dream of the Old World, indifferent to the sordidness and tur- bulence of the New; one of the few things that have been spared by a relentless past, whose habit is to sweep the things of yesterday into oblivion. Almost can one hear the echoes of their sweet bells ringing out to heathen thousands the sunset and the dawn. The California visitor of today should see the , ^ {- Mission Play, ^-A"^* ~'";»': San Gabriel r:. n\ 1& n V^ H-^-LJ^ "^ - H^^< L- Mission Play, written by John Steven McGroarty, and staged in its own special theater at San Gabriel, near Los Angeles, in the shadow of old San Gabriel Mission. This unique historical pageant begins about Christmastime, with daily perform- ances until Spring. It faithfully depicts the early hardships, later triumphs and final decline of the Franciscan missions. Fra Junipero Serra, Don Gaspar de Portola, and other notables of that period are personated by competent actors. The Mission Play has three acts — at San Diego in 1769, Carmel in 1784, and Capistrano in 1847. LOS ANGELES. One can hardly cross this continent of ours with- out gaining a new idea of the immense historical significance of the westward yearning of the Saxon, who in two and a half centuries has marched from Plymouth Rock to the Sunset Sea, and has subor- dinated every other people in his path from shore to shore. The Spaniard was a world-conqueror in his day, and master of California before the Stars and Stripes had been devised. The story of his subju- gation of the southwestern portion of the New World is the most brilliant in modern historw It Mission Sai: Juan Capistranf> rrrV is a story of unexampled deeds of arms. Sword and cross, and love of fame and gold, arc inextri- cably interwoven with it. The Saxon epic is a more complex tale of obscure heroism, of emigrant cavalcades, of pioneer homes, of business enter- prise. The world may never know a sublimer indif- ference to fatigue, suffering and death than characterized the Spanish invaders of America for more than two centuries. Whatever the personal considerations that allured them, the extension of Spanish empire and the advancement of the cross amid barbarians was their effectual purpose. The conquistador was a crusader, and with all his cruelty and rapacity he is a splendid figure of incarnate force. But the westward-flowing wave of Saxon conquest has set him, too, aside. In this fair land of California, won at smallest cost, and seemingly created for him, his descendants to-day are little more than a tattered fringe upon the edges of the displacing civilization. He has left his mark upon every mountain and valley in names that will long endure, but himself has been supplanted. He has not fled. He has diminished, faded away. In 1 781 he named the city Pueblo de la Rcina de las Angeles (Town of the Queen of the Angels). The Saxon, the man of business now supreme, has retained only the last two words of that high sounding appellation; and hardly a greater proportion remains of the original atmos- phere of this old Spanish town. You 137 ^^5.; i»:fe&: The Angelus will find a Spanish (Mexican) quarter, unkempt and adobe, containing elements of the picturesque; and in the modern portion of the city a restaurant or two where English is spoken in a halting fashion by very pretty dark-skinned girls, and you may sat- isfy, if not your appetite, perhaps a long-standing curiosity regarding tortillas, and frijoles, and chili con came. As for tamales, they are, as with us, a matter of curbstone speculation. SeJiores, seTioras, and senoritas are plentifully encountered upon the streets, but are not in general distinguished by any peculiarity of attire. Upon the borders of the city one finds more vivid types, and there the jacal, a poor mud hovel thatched with straw, is not quite extinct. The words Spanish and Mexican are commonly used in California to dis- tinguish a racial difference. Not a few of the Spanish soldiery and colonists originally took wives from among the native Indians. Their offspring has had its charms for later comers of still other races, and a complexity of mixture has resulted. The term Mexican is generally understood to apply to this amalgamation, those of pure Castilian descent preferring to be known as Spanish. The latter, numerically a small class, represent high types, and the persistency of the old strain is such that the poorest Mexican is to a certain manner born. He wears a contented mien, as if his Diogenes-tub and his imperceptible larder were regal possessions, and he does not easily part with dignity and self-respect. Hotel Lankc'shim Hofcl A^exavffr'tj The existence of these descendants of the con- querors side by side with the exponents of the new regime is one of the charms of Los Angeles. It has others in historic vein. After its first overland con- nection with the East, by way of the Santa Fe Trail, it rapidly took on the character of a wild border town. Its romantic career of progress to its present enviable estate is marked by monuments that still endure. Fremont, the Pathfinder, here first raised the Stars and Stripes in 1846, and Winfield Scott Hancock, as a young captain, had quarters in this historic town. In i860 Los Angeles numbered 4,500 inhabitants; in 1880, 11,000; in 1890, 50,000; in 1900, 102,479; in 1910, 319,198. To-day 450,000 is claimed for it by conservative estimate. With this gallop in growth its commercial, manu- facturing, banking, transportation and other large interests have kept pace, until the city ranks in all particulars with the important cities of the country. The bank clearings in 19 12 reached the gratifying total of $1,168,941,700, while the postoflice busi- ness for that year amounted to nearly two million dollars. In that year, also, 16,453 building permits were issued, as against 10,738 in 1910. Hotel Van Nuys Owing to the great number of strangers who annually come here, it far outranks other cities of the same population in metropolitan attrac- tions. Its hotels are legion and range from the most elaborate structures, with luxurious furnishings, to the most modest. In this respect Los Angeles is outstripped by New York alone amongst American cities. The fear has been expressed that the building of new hotels must cease, not because of lack of patronage, but because the supply of alluring names is almost exhausted. Its public cafes and theatres are numerous and as varied as the cosmo- politan patronage requires. In two of its theaters stock companies are maintained the year 'round, producing the successful plays of the world in an artistic manner, while the other theaters have the traveling companies sent out from New York. The clubs of Los Angeles also will take rank with the most dignified and attractive clubs of other cities. No better examples can be found anywhere than the California Club, Jonathan, University and Country; and for the women the Women's Club and the Ebell, which own their own homes, and others. Los Angeles is an up-to-date American city in every respect. To find evidences of the old Spanish life we must hunt it out in obscure corners. Geographically, Los Angeles covers a large area. 140 It is, consequently, not surprising to find that the average family in Los Angeles has plenty of elbow room. The ordinary size of a resi- dence lot is 50 by 150 feet, and many are con- siderably larger. It is only during the past few- years that apartments have been introduced, and probably ninety-five per cent of the permanent residents live in separate homes. Wood is the almost universal material for build- ing, pine and redwood being used. Owing to mild climate, the expense of building is considerably less than in the East. There is a great and pleasing variety in the architecture of Los Angeles residences. Of late the Mission style, with some modifications, has come into favor. Any one who has not visited Los Angeles for fifteen years would scarcely recognize it to-day. In 1886 there was not a paved street, few graded streets and scarcely any business blocks of importance. To-day there are many miles of paved streets, and several hundred miles of public thoroughfares are graded and graveled. Los Angeles is superbly lighted on its principal down-town streets with elaborate clusters of electric lamps, while the outlying districts are fairly sup- plied with electricity. It was the first city in the United States to adopt electricity exclu- sively for its street lighting. Seen from one of the surrounding hills, it is a striking sight, as the lights are turned on in the evening, twinkling like stars against the dark firmament. 141 Christ's Church -^ f^ , There is a great variety of sites for building '^ «^«lt-^,., .y^.T=V^ within the city Hmits. In the northern and ^^'^J northwestern and western districts are hills, from 1^ many of which a view of the ocean, distant about r^ fifteen miles, is obtained, with the Sierra Madre range of mountains, snow-capped in winter, ^^ bounding the view on the north. These hills have come into favor during the past few years as residence sites. The city in the west end, around Westlalce Park, contains thousands of beautiful homes. The character of the residents reaches a high average for refinement and cultivation, as is evi- denced by their homes. A drive through the residence districts will well repay the most veteran explorer of cities. The architecture is as attractive as it is varied and presents beautiful examples of every school. These homes are set on lots never less than 50 feet front, almost always adorned with smooth lawns, and shaded by a great variety of ornamental trees gathered from the four quarters of the globe. One sees the acacia, the camphor, jacaranda, crepe myrtle, pepper, magnolia, euca- lyptus and cypress; also palm trees of many kinds. Color is lent by flowers and flowering shrubs of even greater variety than the trees, and as some of them are always in bloom, the beauty of the home, no matter howhumble, is enhanced every day of the year. Electric cars connect not only the different section? of the city, l^ Oman's Club, Los Angeles but furnish rapid and frequent communication with Pasadena, SantaMonica, Ocean Park, Venice, Redondo, San Pedro, Long Beach, Monrovia, Glendalc, Santa Ana and other adjacent towns. There are altogether about a dozen parks within Church of the the city b'mits of Los Angeles, of which five are Angels tracts of considerable size. In these parks may be seen many beautiful examples of the semi-tropic vegetation which flourishes here. In four of them are lakes, with boats, and music is usually provided on Sundays. In Eastlake Park, on the east side of the river, the nurseries are worthy of inspection. The Indian Crafts exhibition occupies fifteen acres of ground on Mission Road, near Eastlake Park, and is easily reached by street car. Here Mr. Antonio Apache has gathered typical groups of Indians from the various American tribes, who live in their primitive habitations, wear their native dress, and work at their aboriginal handicrafts. The principal exhibition building is an exact repro- duction of one of the old Maya palaces of Yucatan. Chief Son-i-hat's house and totem-pole, brought from Alaska, are also located here. Elysian Park, a romantic, hilly tract of over 500 acres in the northern part of the city, is a rem- nant of the thousands of acres of land formerly owned by the municipality. Little has been done at Elysian Park, beyond improving the portion near the entrance and the construction of a few roads from H3 Hotel (Jree/i, Pasadena The Raymond, Pasadena '■m "^ Huntington Hotel, Pasadena which enchanting views of the city and surrounding country may be had. Just outside of Los Angeles, on the north, is Griffith Park, a tract of 3,000 acres of mountainous land. Nothing has yet been done toward the improvement of this great tract, except a start at reforestation under the direction of a United States Government forestry expert. A few years ago Los Angeles purchased from private companies the neighboring water sources and their means of supply. In 1905 30,000,000 gallons were distributed at an average cost of ten cents per thousand gallons. As the growth of the city threatened to be limited by shortage in the water supply, it has reached 226 miles across mountains and desert to the Owens River and has undertaken to bring to Los Angeles by gravity system, at a cost estimated at $23,000,000, a supply of pure mountain water sufficient to maintain a city of 2,000,000 people. About 258,000,000 gallons will -be delivered every day into high reservoirs. In addition the water power will be utilized in producing electrical energy, the sale of which will care for bonds and interest. Socially, Los Angeles is a refined and cultivated community. There is nothing here that might be termed " wild and woolly." This is not surprising, when we consider that Los Angeles has been chiefly settled by people of culture from east of the mountains. The school facilities are excellent, including a great variety of private institutions in 10 145 addition to the public schools. All religious de- nominations are liberally represented. An arni\' of specialists give instruction in music, painting and every department of art and science. Many brilliant writers and artists have made their permanent homes here, or in the suburbs. Every fraternal society of importance is represented. Why does Los Angeles grow at such an aston- ishing rate? What is there back of her, what to support such a city? The answer comes back hot, that the whole United States is back of her and supports her. Just so long as people grow rich in the United States, just so long will Los Angeles grow. She is like the best residence street in the cities. People who can afford it prefer to live there, and in their living they create work for thousands of others. Her climate is her chief asset, but this asset is not shared by any important city of the East. She has a monopoly. Aside from this, Los Angeles is the center of a rich agricultural section — richer than is commonly supposed. She has mining interests in California, Arizona, Nevada and Mexico, which return a big sum every year in dividends. Her manufacturing interests are growing rapidly — she is the center of the oil-producing section of California and she is casting her eyes across the Pacific and down the west coast at the commerce that may come to her through the harbor at San Pedro. Her growth really has been a normal one. 147 Plaz.1i Churiili 'jiiliil ui)i|fl'l?i"iiiVi5|i Imtj ^'ffte ' Zo^ Angeles Auditoritim A glance at the following figures will indicate the value of some of these things in dollars: Citrus Fruits $15,000,000 Dried Fruits and Rais- ins 2,050,000 Nuts I 550 000 Beans 1,800,000 Othier Vegetables 5,000.000 Grain and Hay 5,750,000 Sugar 3432,155 Wine, Brandy and Beer 875,000 Canned Goods 1,000,000 Butter and Cheese. . . . 1,200,000 Borax 1,280,000 Poultry and Eggs 1,025,000 Miscellaneous Manu- factured Products.. 45,000,000 Pork, Beef, Mutton, dressed i Fish Wool and Hides Fertilizers Gold and Silver Gems Petroleum Asphaltum Salt, Mineral Waters, Lithia Cement, Clay, Brick, Limestone, Sand- stone, Granite Lumber Lime ; 5,500,000 5,750,000 550,000 650,000 3,900,000 340,000 12,000,000 875,000 170,000 1,640,000 300,000 410,000 PASADENA. Just outside the limits of Los Angeles, intimately connected by railway and street car lines, is Pasa- dena, a thriving modern city of 35,000 inhabitants. For the origin of the name you may choose between the imputed Indian signification. Crown of the Valley, and a corruption of the Spanish Paso de Eden (Threshold of Eden), It is in any event the crown of that Eden, the San Ga- briel Valley, which nestles warmly in its groves and rosebowers below lofty bulwarks tipped with snow, U8 California Club, Los Angeles Here an Eastern multitude makes regular winter home in modest cottage or imposing mansion. Every fruit and flower and every ornamental tree and shrub known to South- ern California is represented in the elaborate grounds of this little realm. Orange Grove avenue is one of the most beautiful residence thoroughfares in the € United States, or in any other country, for ^l that matter. Pasadena entertains a large crowd of Eastern visitors within her gates during the winter months. She is well pre- pared to receive them, hotels and lodging houses being numerous. The Raymond, on the hill, is a prominent landmark for many miles around. The Hotel Green, adjoining the depot of the Santa Fe, is a fine specimen of California architecture. Another notable edifice is Hotel Maryland, recently enlarged. Huntington Hotel, the magnificent new $1,300,000 hotel on Oak Knoll, will be opened December 15. Pasadena is noted, too, for the number and beauty of its church edifices, also for its fine educational institutions. On Mount Wilson, near by, is a great astronomical obsen'atory which has a world-wide renown and boasts the largest tele- scope on earth. Then there is Mount Lowe. Mr 149 The Biiscli Residence, Pasade)ici f^^" .^.^ »/: Hotel Maryland, Pasadena i MOUNT LOWE. From Los Angeles, through Pasadena and Altadena, electric railway cars run to Ruble Canyon, a distance of sixteen miles. There from an altitude of 2,200 feet, the cable incline conveys visitors to the summit of Echo Mountain, nearly 1,400 feet higher. From this point, where there is an observa- tory already somewhat famous for astronomical discoveries, radiate many miles of bridle-paths, and another electric railway extends to still loftier heights at the Alpine Tavern, nearly a mile above the sea, and v^^ithin a thousand feet of the objective summit, which is reached by bridle-path. There is no more pleasurable mountain trip than this, nor anywhere one more easy of accomplishment. Sufficiently elevated above its surroundings to afford commanding views which stretch across wondrously fertile valleys to other ranges upon the one hand and to the coast- w^ise islands of the Pacific upon the other, the total altitude is not great enough to distress those who are disordered by the thin air of more exalted summits, as in the Rockies. Among the manifold attractive features of California the ascent of Mount Lowe worthily holds a conspicuous place. Its details are fully described in local publi- "^ cations, and may be omitted here. 151 THE " KITE-SHAPED TRACK." The most interesting trip for a stranger in Southern California is that over the "Kite-shaped Track" of the Santa Fe. A visitor can not do better than to make this journey, during w^hich he passes through the heart of the most thickly populated and best cultivated portion of the " Land of the Afternoon." It is possible to make this trip be- tvv^een breakfast and dinner, allowing time for an inspection of Riverside and Redlands, but days can be most delightfully spent in many of the tow^ns passed, and mdefinite periods in these two. The track is in the shape of two loops, the larger one extending from Los Angeles to San Bernardino and the smaller end from San Bernar- dino to Redlands. The traveler may start from Los Angeles either by the northern or southern branch of the " kite." Twenty-five minutes after leaving the city, by the northern route, the train arrives at Pasadena. Turning eastward from Pasadena, the Santa Fe line traverses the heart of the San Gabriel Valley, the most beautiful stretch of country of equal expanse in all California. Especially is this so in winter when covered with a vivid mantle of green, beyond which are the tawny foothills, dotted over with chapparal, backed by the majestic Sierra California Limited in Southern California Madre, pine-fringed and often snow-clad in winter, when oranges are ripening in the valley below. East of Pasadena the train runs for several miles through the Santa Anita ranch of " Lucky" Bald- win. The home place, with its lake and beautiful grounds and thoroughbred horses, is a favorite resort for Los Angeles people and visitors. There are many well kept orchards of citrus and deciduous fruits in the valley. The old mission, from which the valley obtained its name, lies several miles to the south, and is not visible from the train. A dozen flourishing towns are scattered along the fifty miles between Pasadena and San Bernardino. The most important of these are Pomona, Upland and Ontario, through which the Santa Fe runs. At Pomona a specialty is made of olive culture. Ontario and Upland are celebrated for their lemons. In the vicinity of Cucamonga are io,000 acres of vineyards. An electric car line runs from Ontario through Upland to the Canyon at the head of Euclid avenue, a wide, shaded thoroughfare. On either side nestle the homes of the citizens, embowered in orange and lemon groves and gardens. Ontario was founded by the Chafiey brothers, somewhat more than twenty years ago. They are now en- gaged in developing the settlement of Imperial on the Colorado desert, near Yuma, visitor from sections of the East where h soils are the rule will probably notice lightness of much of the soil between Ont 153 L and San Bernardino. With an ample water supply, it gives excellent results in fruit culture. At Cucamonga are some of the largest vineyards in California. North of San Bernardino there is seen on the mountain side what looks like a big arrowhead. San Bernardino is an old city, as age is reckoned among the American improvements of Southern California, having been settled by Mormons from Salt Lake City in the fifties. They were after- ward ordered back to Utah, but a few of them chose to remain in this land of promise, and some of their descendants are still living there. Here are the Santa Fe shops, which give employment to hundreds of men. The merchants of the place do a considerable trade with the surrounding country. A fine toll road leads, by an easy grade, up to the pine-clad summit of the mountains, back of San Bernardino, where, amid the big forest trees, is a picturesque clubhouse, known as Squirrel Inn, surrounded by cottages, in which some of the members of the club spend weeks every summer. At San Bernardino commences the smaller loop of the Kite-shaped Track, which runs around the upper end of the Santa Ana Valley. Here, in the foothills, overlooking a magnificent panorama of mountain and valley, lies Redlands, a beautiful city, twenty-five years of age, having been laid out Squirrel Inn ■'-t::^S^t,_; (luring the big real estate boom of 1887. Redlands people claim that the finest oranges in California — or in the world — are raised there, and the prices paid for the product in the East seem to justify their assertions. Canyon Crest Park, Smiley Heights, a picturesque and beautifully improved private estate, from which there are magnificent views of the surrounding country, is open to visitors. Up in the mountains, behind Redlands, and con- nected by a stage line during the summer months, is Bear Valley, with its lake, from which water is obtained for the thirsty orchards below. This is a favorite camping place for the valley people, who find excellent fishing and shooting, with plain and comfortable accommodations at several points in the valley. There are sawmills in the neigh- borhood. Returning around the loop, close to the foothills, the train passes Highland, where is located one of the State insane asylums. Back in the hills, but plainly visible from the train, lies Arrowhead Hot Springs and its fine new hotel. San Bernardino is soon again reached, and the train runs southward on its spin around the lower branch of the loop. Colton is a railroad junction. Between Colton and Riverside a branch of the Santa Fe runs ofif to the southeast, through a section of the country that has been celebrated by Helen Hunt Jackson, in her widely read Southern California novel, " Ramona," to Ferris, where it again divides. One branch runs to San Jacinto, in the valley of that name, the starting-place for Strawberry Valley, a 155 romantic spot among the pines, a mile above th^ cities of the plain. This for many years has been a favorite camping ground during the summer months, and recently has been made more attractive by the erection of a hotel on the detached cottage plan with central cafe and casino. The visitor w^ho is fairly robust may scale the summit of San Jacinto Mountain, five thousand feet higher up. Idyllwild, as this resort is now known, is reached from Hemet by stage. The main branch of the Santa Fe from Ferris extends to Elsinore and Temecula. At Elsinore there is a lake of consider- able size, and more than a hundred hot springs, with great curative properties. Around the lake is a drive, fifteen miles long. Near Murietta, south of Elsinore, is another group of hot springs. The run from San Bernardino to Riverside is alongside a big cement main ditch. Riverside is a locality renowned for navel oranges, culmina- ting in a busy little city of 12,000 population, overhung by mountain battlements and pendant to two hundred miles of shaded and oiled avenues, lined with tall eucalyptus, drooping pepper and magnolia trees, and broken only by short lateral driveways through palm, orange and cypress to mansion homes. The almost continuous citrus Arrowhead Hotel groves of Riverside are the result of twenty years of co-operative efifort, supplemented by some preponderating advantages of location. The pioneer settlers had much to contend with, but they persevered, and their monument is visible to all. The community is one of culture and refinement, and the Riversiders boast that their city is the wealthiest in the United States, in proportion to population. The Mission Inn, at Riverside, is a modern hotel, combining the picturesqueness of the eighteenth century with the luxury of the twentieth. It is a long, low, cloistered building, in style like the old missions — tiled roof, arched porches and many a gable — built around a spacious court. This court is faced by a long palm promenade. The tower is a campanile, with twelve ancient bells, where vesper hymns and old Spanish tunes are played. Inside this hospitable inn you see open chimney-places, massive beamed ceilings, mission- bell chandeliers, iron latches on the doors, and other reminders of the old California days. The most striking features of the old-time mis- sions are reproduced in a recent addition to the inn, called the cloister. In the assembly hall thereof is a magnificent cathedral pipe organ. Automobiles meet Santa Fe trains, carrying passengers to the U. S. Indian School and up Rubidoux mountain ; the summit is reached by a ^1 ' \^ ■'^-■ u V'V^4**v^!^ \S%^' . ^/- %■& *%-- ^'■'i/''mji/// ■-- _/__ ■''r-'TT'rc-' • , ' TZ7. < Mission It fine road with easy grades, equal to aiij' Alpine highway, and the jcy of all autoists. After leaving the station, the train runs for sev- eral miles through a succession of well-kept orange groves. Fourteen miles from Riverside is Corona, a colony famous for oranges and lemons. A tree- lined avenue extends between the two places. A few miles farther and the track follows the wind- ings of the Canyon of the Santa Ana River, through a wild, picturesque region, bounded on each side by low ranges of mountains. Orange is the next place of importance. The three towns of Santa Ana, Orange and Tustin form practically one con- tinuous settlement of attractive homes. Here one may travel mile after mile, over good roads, aligned by beautiful shade trees, behind which are orchards of deciduous and citrus fruit, in a high state of cultivation. Orange is a railroad junction on the line from Los Angeles to San A ready, Montecito i yverside, Cal. Diego, b}'^ way of Santa Ana. Anaheim, the next stopping place, is the pioneer settlement of this region, having been founded more than forty years ago as a co-operative vineyard colony by Germans from San Francisco. The town lies a short distance from the railroad. A few miles west of Anaheim, and connected with it by a short line of railroad, is the Los Alamitos beet and sugar factory, in which Senator Clark, the Montana and Arizona mining millionaire, is interested. Fullerton, the next largest town of Orange County, was laid out during the real estate boom of 1887. It has since developed on merit, and it is now an important shipping point for horticultural products. There are also a number of profitable oil wells in the neighborhood. La Mirada, with a pretty little sta- tion, built in the Mission style of archi- tecture, is the center of an extensive tract of olive and lemon orchards, covering 3,000 acres. In connec- 159 tion with this enterprise is a chemical laboratory, in which are prepared a number of by-products from the orange, lemon and grapefruit. Santa Fe Springs, formerly known as Fulton Wells, is so named from springs of mineral water, for which great medicinal effects are claimed in the treat- ment of rheumatism, gout and other diseases. There is a sanitarium, which is open all the year around. A few miles away, to the right, on the side of a sloping hill, may be seen Whittier, which was started in 1887 as a Quaker colony. The large brick building is one of the State reform schools, in which several hundred wayward boys and girls are taught useful trades. Fine lemons and other fruit are raised at Whittier, and there are a number of producing oil wells in the hills back of the town. Rivera, a smalt settlement between the old and the new San Gabriel Rivers, is the chief walnut-growing section of Southern California. Standing upon the dome of the hotel, and looking to the northeast, south and west, the eye may follow long stretches of this valuable tree, for miles in every direction. In less than twenty minutes after leaving Rivera the train pulls up at the Los Angeles depot. Hotel Redondo Tilton's Trolley Trips, "One hundred miles for one hundred cents," operated from Los Angeles, furnish a very satisfactory way of seeing many of the best points of interest in Southern California within touch of Los Angeles by electric lines. These include rides in special electric cars to Pasadena, the old Mission San Gabriel, Cawston Ostrich Farm, Long Beach, San Pedro and several other places. SEASIDE RESORTS. There are several popular seaside resorts in the vicinity of Los Angeles, easily reached, within an hour, by steam or electric cars. They are largely patronized by residents and visitors, especially dur- ing the summer months. Of late the fact has begun to be realized that in some respects these places are even more attractive during the winter, after the rains have carpeted the surrounding country with a mantle of green, and laid the dust. It is no uncommon thing to see a crowd of merry visitors sporting amid the breakers at Christmas, in plain view of the snow-capped Sierra Madre Mountains. The chief of these resorts are Redondo, Santa Monica, Long Beach, Ocean Park and Venice. Santa Monica is the oldest. All are well improved, progressive towns, with beautiful homes, fine beaches, comfortable hotels and many attractions for summer visitors. 11 i6i Venice of America The census of 1910 showed that Long Beach had grown from 2,252 to 17,809 inhabitants in the decade. This was a gain of 690.8 per cent, and is remarkable as the largest shown by any American city. Along its semicircle of ocean front is nine and a half miles of broad, sandy beach, fine for surf-bath- ing. At low tide this becomes a wave-swept boule- vard of hard sand, the lasting delight of motorist and horseman. To the west is a land-locked harbor. Long Beach has nine grammar schools with a registration of about five thousand, and a modern Polytechnic high school with an attendance of nearly a thousand. The hotel accommodations are exceptional. Hotel Virginia, situated on the beach, has few equals along the coast. Other good hotels are the Kennebec, Arlington, Julian and many smaller ones. Alamitos Bay and Naples nestle close to the Orange county line, just east of Long Beach, con- nected with that city by two electric lines, which give twenty-five-minute service. Naples is trav- ersed by about five miles of canals whose banks Hotel Virginia, Long Reach '2 ;ire dotted by summer homes ; there is also a well- equipped hotel of fifty rooms. At Alamitos Bay, across the channel, are many cafes popular for Sunday dinners and evening parties. North of Long Beach is another suburb, Signal Hill, four hundred feet above the sea. From here twenty-two other towns are visible on a clear day. San Pedro, with its potential prominence as a harbor and its already important commerce, is the principal port of Los Angeles. Many million dol- lars are to be spent here widening and deepening the channel for entrance of big steamers. The fishing industry gives employment to some seven liundred people. The town also is historically inter- esting to all readers of Dana's "Two Years Before the Mast." Terminal is a port of considerable importance, particularly in its receipts of lumber, which in 1911 ran upwards of 250,000,000 feet. Redondo is a pleasant beach resort. A friendly point of land shelters it from harsh breezes and mellows the winter temperature to a delightful mildness. The completion at Redondo of a great power plant, the development of the oil industry, and the building of the Standard Oil Company's large refining plant at near-by El Segundo, have materially aided its growth. Near the shore is a summer tent city, with mammoth plunge, casino, auditorium and other amusement features. Manhattan Beach is a popular resort on the line of the Pacific Electric, as it follows the crescent i6] of Santa Monica Bay, south from Playa del Rey to Redondo. It occupies a commanding position on the clifif overlooking the sea. Santa Monica, one of the oldest of the beach towns adjacent to Los Angeles, has numerous hotels of which Hotel Windemere, in Mission style, is the most pretentious. An even larger one is planned to the north of the town, with bathhouse, auditorium and casino in connection. Handsome clubhouses shelter social and fraternal organiza- tions. The summer life of Santa Monica is enliv- ened by the usual entertainment features. Port Los Angeles, near the mouth of Santa Monica Canyon, possesses the longest wooden pier on the coast, costing about one million dollars, and devoted almost wholly to fishing. Notable improvements recently have been made at Venice, the amusement center of this section. It is another Coney Island, only more dignified. Here the seeker after new thrills finds roller coast- ers, grist mill and rapids, theaters, a captive aero- plane and an auto racing course. Venice's Tent City also has been enlarged. Several new pleasure piers are under construction, each a thousand feet long, equipped with scenic railways that will carry passengers beneath the sea, also with casinos and roof gardens. 164 SANTA CATALINA ISLAND. Thirty miles off the coast it rises, like Capri, from the sea, a many-peaked mountain cap, vary- ing in width from half a mile to nine miles, and more than twenty long. Its bold cliff shores are broken by occasional pockets rimmed by a semi- circular beach of sand. The most famous of these is Avalon, one of the most frequented camping grounds of Southern California. In midsummer its numerous hotels are filled to overflowing, and in the hundreds of tents clustered by the water's edge thousands of pleasure-seekers gather in the height of the season. Summer is the period of Santa Catalina's greatest* animation, for then, as in other lands, comes vacation time. But there is evenjess variation of season than on the mainland, and the nights are soft and alluring, because the seaward- blowing mountain air is robbed of all its chill in passing over the equable waters. Here after night- fall verandas and the beach are still thronged. The tiny harbor is filled with pleasure-craft of every description, from rowboats to commodious yachts, and hundreds of bathers disport in the placid ele- ment. Wonderful are the waters of Avalon, blue as a Mediterranean sky and astonishingly clear. Through the glass bottom of skiffs specially con- structed for the purpose you may gaze down through a hundred feet *of transparency to where emerald weeds wave, and myriad fishes, blue and i6s ^«i^<^Vv ((( ''\ \# '^ ffks.:m i€P' brown and flaming red, swim over pebble and shell. Or, climbing the overhanging cliffs, you gain the fish-eagle's view of the life that teems in water- depths, and looking down half a thousand feet upon the fisherman in his boat see the bright-hued fishes flashing far beneath him. He seems to hang sus- pended in the sk;\ . Notable fishing is to be had. The barracuda is plentiful; likewise the yellow-tail, or sea-salmon, also generally taken by trolling, and frequently- tipping a truthful scale at fifty pounds. Sea-bass fishing is a famous sport here, and probably the most exciting known anywhere to the hand-fisher- man. This fish is commonly taken, and in weight ranges from 200 to 400 pounds. The fisherman who hooks one is frequently dragged in his skiff for several miles, and finds himself nearly as much exhausted as the fish when it finally comes to gaff. The most popular fishing at Catalina, however, is for the tuna, known in the Mediterranean as the " tunny," a gamy fish that furnishes the ambitious angler all the sport he can reasonably expect, and more than many can appreciate. Visitors come from all over the world to fish for tuna at Catalina, and a tuna club has been formed, which issues diplomas and prizes to those who capture with rod and reel the biggest tuna during each season. They must do it without assistance, and this is frequently a difficult job, as the tuna sometimes weighs over 250 pounds, and has been known to pull a boat con- taining three people for nearly twelve hours. The 167 favorite diet of the tuna is flying-fish, in following which they will jump out of the water and catch their prey in the air. The average weight of sixty-one tuna caught with rod and reel at Catalina during the season of 1901 was 119 1-2 pounds, and of 142 black sea-bass, or "jewfish," caught in like manner, 225 i-2 pounds. Perhaps the greatest novelty of a trip to Santa Catalina, for most travelers, is the great number of flying-fish that inhabit its waters. At only a few miles' distance from the mainland they begin to leap from beneath the bows of the steamer, singly, by twos and by half dozens, until one wearies of count- ing, and skim over the waves like so many swal- lows. The length of flight of which this poetical fish is capable proves usually a surprise, for in spite of its abundance of? the Southern California coast its precise character is none too generally known. In size, form and color it may be roughly compared to the mackerel. Its "wings" are muscular fins whose spines are connected by a light but strong membrane, and are four in number. The hinder- most pair are quite small, mere butterfly wings of stout fiber; the foremost pair attain a length of seven or eight inches, and when extended are two inches or more in breadth. Breaking from the water at a high rate of speed, but at a very low angle, the flying-fish extends these winglike fins and holds them rigid, like the set wings of a soaring hawk. With the lower flange of its deeply forked tail, which at first drags lightly, it sculls with a con- i6g vulsive wriggle of the whole body that gives it the casual appearance of actually winging its way. The additional impulse thus acquired lifts it entirely from the water, over whose surface it then glides without further effort for a long distance, until, losing in momentum and in the sustaining pressure of the air beneath its outstretched fins, it again touches the water, either to abruptly disappear or by renewed sculling to prolong its flight. Whales of great size are frequently seen in the channel separating Catalina from the mainland. Santa Catalina is reached by steamer from San Pedro, connecting with trains from Los Angeles. The exhilarating ocean ride and the unique pleas- ures of the island can not be too strongly com- mended. Two new steamers soon will be built, shortening the channel trip between San Pedro and Avalon to an hour and a quarter. SANTA BARBARA. Santa Barbara long has been known the world over as " The American Mentone," because in seeking a term to convey its characteristics some comparison with celebrated resorts of Europe was thought nec- essary and this particular comparison most fitting. Such comparison is no longer required. Santa Barbara is a name that now everywhere evokes the soft picture of a rose-buried spot, more than a village, less than a city, rising gently from the sea-rim by way of shade. i avenue and plaza to the foot of the 169 gray Santa Ynez Mountains, above whose peaks the condor loves to soar ; where, when with us the winter winds are most bitter, normal existence is a joyous activity in constant summer sunshine. It presents an endless variety of winsomeness. Here are found the best climatic advantages of Egypt, Italy, the Hawaiian Islands and Florida. The flat beach is broken by rocky points where the surf spouts in white columns with deaf- ening roar, and above it lies a long mesa, dotted with live-oaks, that looks down upon the little dreaming mission city and far oceanward ; and on the other hand the mountain slopes beckon to innumerable glens, and, when the rains have come, to broad hillsides of green and banks of blossom. There are long level drives by the shore, and up the prolific valley to famous orchard ranches, and Mon- tecito, a fairyland of homes, is close at hand. Between Los Angeles and Santa Barbara, on the coast, lies San Buena Ventura, with a well preserved mission, and Summerland, where may be seen the curious spectacle of oil wells pumping from wharves erected for the purpose, and extending beyond low- water mark. Four Channel Islands lie opposite Santa Barbara— Anacapa, Santa Cruz, Santa Rosa, and San Miguel. The last three are only less attractive by nature than Santa Catalina. Fishing boats frequently leave Santa Barbara for the island fishing grounds. 170 C<«|l 11 HP I »t2^» I • k a 11 I II I J> ";« »! ^^m-%^ ^^ HoUi Potter, Santa Barbara These islands are now permanently inhabited only by sheep-herders, who tend flocks of many thousands. Santa Barbara lies northwest from Los Angeles, on the coast line of the Southern Pacific. It is a thriving town of 15,000 inhabitants, with paved highways, busy stores and attractive residences. Modern American methods are in evidence along the business streets, but Santa Barbara still has much to remind one of the early Spanish days. The old mission is elsewhere mentioned. Here the visitor may enjoy outdoor life to the utmost ; deep-sea fishing, autoing, golf, and horseback riding are the principal pastimes. Santa Barbara is splendidly equipped to care for the tourist. The old Arlington Hotel made Santa Barbara one place on the coast that should not be hastily passed by. Now a new Arlington has risen on the old site. It is a magnificent fireproof structure in the strictly Mission style, with grace- ful arches, recessed windows and red-tiled roof. The equipment for taking care of its possible five hundred guests is down to the last minute in perfect detail. The five-acre tract surrounding the hotel is beautified by rose gardens and palms. Hotel Potter, located on a large tract facing the ocean boulevard, is a palatial edifice, six stories high, covering two acres of ground and valued at a million dollars. The architecture is that of the old Spanish missions. There are five hundred guest rooms and four roof gardens. The hotel also has a polo ground and tennis courts. The A'txf Arlington Sania Harhara OSTRICH FARMING. One of the popular attractions of Southern Cali- fornia, that is visited by most new arrivals, is the ostrich farm, at South Pasadena, beside the Santa Fe track and a short ride from Los Angeles on the electric. Here may be seen 150 ostriches, ranging in size from the newly hatched chick to the mammoth, full-grown bird. Ostriches appear to do as well in Southern California as in South Africa, their native habitat. There were formerly several small ostrich farms in this section, but they have all been combined in the establishment at South Pasa- dena, which has been running for a number of years. It is not merely a show place for visitors, but does a large and profitable business in the sale of ostrich feathers and useful and ornamental articles manufactured therefrom, which are exported to all parts of the United States. There were recently imported to this farm seven- teen Nubian birds, which are supposed to have the finest plumage of any of the African ostriches. They run wild, and the only way to obtain them is by bar- tering with the natives for the chicks, the old ones escaping. As there is an export duty of $500 on each ostrich sent out of South Africa, these are the only birds that can now be obtained to improve the California stock. The proprietor of this establish- ment recently opened an ostrich farm between 172 Nice and Monte Carlo, in the south of France, jwith birds from South Pasadena, so that Southern Cah'fornia may now add to her other varied (resources the exportation of ostriches. WINTER SPORTS. Where out-of-door life is the rule, there being [neitherfrost nor chill throughout the day, recreation becomes a matter of pure selection, unhampered by [any climatic condition outside the relatively infre- luent rainstorm. A few enthusiasts make a point of taking a daily dip in the surf, but the practice does not reach the proportions of a popular pastime in midwinter. Cross-country riding finds then its perfect season, the whole land being transformed into a garden, over enough of which the horseman is free to wander. Happy must he be who knows a purer sport than to gallop, either singly or with comrades, in fragrant morning air over a fresh sod spangled with poppy, violet, forget-me-not, larkspur and alfilerilla; bursting through dense thickets of lilac and mustard to cross an intervening highway ; dipping to verdant meadow vales ; skirting orchards heavy with fruit, and mounting tree-capped knolls that look off to glimmers of sea between the slopes of the hills. Coaching has its proper season then, as well, and the horn of the tallyho is frequently heard. For such as like to trifle with the snows from which they have fled, the foothills are at hand, serried with tall firs in scattering growths or dense shadowy L^.i 3i. ' , •■'■•% ' '^i''*.''' ;*.''/'*' ■^-^ ■^, jungles, topping canyons where the wagon-trail x the crested mountain quail skulks over the ridge ' - above one's head. There may be had climbing to _^-y^ suit every taste, touching extremes of chaotic tan- gle of chaparral and crag. There are cliffs over f?" which the clear mountain-water tumbles sheer to great depths; notches through which the distant cones of the highest peaks of the mother range may be seen in whitest ermine, huge pines dotting their drifts like petty clumps of weed. Under foot, too, on the northerly slopes is snow just over the ridge from where the sun is as warm and the air as gentle as in the valley, save only the faintest sense of added vigor and rarefaction. So near do these extreines lie, and yet so effectually separated, you may thrust into the mouth of a snow man a rose broken from the bush an hour or two before, and pelt him with oranges plucked at the very mouth of the canyon. And one who is not too susceptible may comfort- ably linger until the sun has set, and above the lower dusky peaks the loftier ones glow rose-pink in the light of its aftershine, until the moon lights the fissures of the canvon with a ghostly radiance against which the black shadows of the cliffs fall like ink-blots. Notwithstanding the rapid settlement of South- ern California, this section can still show better fishing and hunting during the winter season than almost any other region of the country. VV^ith the first grass that follows the early winter rains the 174 wild duck comes down from his northern nursery to bathe in the warm sunshine. The gHstening green of the mallard's neck dots the water of the lagoon. Duck-shooting on a moonlight night is a favorite sport'. With the mallard come the canvas- back, the redhead, the sprigtail, the gadwell, the widgeon, the spoonbill and the delicate little teal. This is not the blue-winged teal of the Mississippi Valley, or the green-wing that is there so common, but another variety of green-wing, of about the same size as the Eastern bird, and with equal swiftness of wing. These ducks, and some others, are found in great abundance during the winter season, within an hour's ride of Los Angeles. There are great flocks of the Canada goose, together with the snow goose. They feed on the alfilerilla and clover of the plains and hills, occa- sionally making excursions into the grain fields. The valley quail of California is a gamy bird, which has become somewhat shy since guns have increased in number. Formerly this bird was so abundant that one might easily obtain as big a bag as could be car- ried home, without a dog; but now a good bird dog is becoming essential, unless the sportsman is an expert, or goes into a thinly settled region. The little brown plover makes good game for the begin- ner during the greater part of the winter. The mountain pigeons sometimes come down in flocks and afiford lively shooting. The English snipe is found on some of the meadows. Among the brush, on the foothills, cottontail and hare are 175 plentiful, in seasons of normal rainfall. One needs to be a good shot to make a bag of these active little animals. Deer are becoming scarce, but are still brought in during the season. The Pacific Ocean abounds in fish, and while midwinter is not the best season, there is often good fishing along the coast, long before the winter is over. Among the leading members of the finny tribe that may be counted on to furnish sport are tuna, mackerel, yellow-tail, barracuda and bonita. Then, among deep-water fish, are the rock cod and the redfish. Catalina Island, thirty miles from the main- land, is a noted place for the catching of big fish with rod and reel, especially the gamy tuna, to which sport reference has been made on a preced- ing page. There are also found the monster "jewfish," weighing sometimes over 400 pounds. The catches frequently made by fishermen in the Bay of Avalon, within a few hours, are so remark- able as to challenge the credulity of Eastern peo- ple, so that the sportsman usually carries home with him a few photographs, as an ocular demon- stration of his prowess. In the spring months trout fishing is a favorite sport all along the streams of the Sierra Madre range, within a few hours' journey of Los Angeles, amid wild and romantic scenery. The grizzly was once exceedingly common. One of the great sports of the old mission days was to hunt the grizzly on horseback with the riata for sole weapon, and it is of record that in a single 176 neighborhood thirty or forty of these formid- i able brutes were sometimes captured in a ^ s. '''' night by roping, precisely as a modern cowboy y'^ ^ ropes a steer; the secret of the sportsmen's ■' immunity lying in the fact that the bear was almost simultaneously lassoed from different sides and in that manner rigidly pinioned. But Ursus horribilis has long since retreated to deep solitudes, where his occasional pursuers, far from approaching him with a rawhide noose, go armed with heavy repeating rifles, and even thus equipped are not eager to encounter him at very close range. Cricket is naturally a favorite diversion among the many young Englishmen who have located upon ranches; and yachting, polo and tennis do not want for devotees. Golf finds many devotees in this favored land, and is at its best during the winter. Excellent links will be found in Los Angeles, Pasadena, Riverside, Coronado, San Diego, Santa Monica, Santa Catalina, and elsewhere. A LAND OF FLOWERS. Nothing is more delightful and astonishing to visitors in California than the wonderful wealth of flowers, and winter and early spring are the best time to witness this beautiful exposition of nat- ural beauty. Indeed, these are the only seasons in which the wild flowers may be seen in variety. Soon after the first rain the dull brown of the hills and plains is supplanted by a mantle of vivid green, »9 177 and this, later in the season, is transformed into a carpet of variegated hues. The most rare and ten- der plants, which in the East are found only in hot-houses, here grow rampant in the gardens. The size to which some of these plants attain is astonishing. The geranium and heliotrope cover the side of a house, and two-story buildings are smothered in blossoms from a single rose-bush. The mammoth California violet has acquired a world-wide reputation. In the front yard of the humblest cottage may be seen the brilliant poin- settias, luxuriant passion vines, heliotrope, bego- nias, and calla-lilies, together with waving bananas, magnificent palms and graceful bamboos. The calla-lily and tube-rose are planted by the acre, for the market. Among the most interesting sights of Southern California are the flower carnivals, held at regular intervals in Los Angeles, Santa Barbara, and other cities, where may be seen all kinds of vehicles, from a bicycle to a four-in-hand, smothered in fragrant blossoms. On New Year's Day, each year, Pasadena has maintained its Tournament of Roses, and established a reputation for the most elaborate festival of this character. Flowering trees are also here in abundance, notable among which are varieties of the eucalyptus, bearing bunches of beautiful white blossoms. At the State Experiment Station, near Santa Monica, are over one hundred varieties of this tree. The crepe myrtle, jacaranda, magnolia, acacia and 178 Aos Angeles Country Club grevillia are also represented in j^reat numbers. It is not a constant struggle to make flowers and plants grow in California throughout the year. Plenty of water and a little cultivation, and a kindly nature does the rest. The most noted of the wild flowers which make the country a blaze of glory dur- ing the later winter months and in the early spring is the California poppy, which has been burdened with the unromantic name of escholtzia. This has been made the State flower. The hills back of Pasadena are a blaze of gold with this beautiful wild flower, in the early spring, and on a clear day the flame tint may be clearly discerned from the ocean, thirty miles distant. Another beautiful wild flower, abundant in the foothills of Southern California, is the scarlet larkspur, a flower peculiar to this State. There is a commercial side to flower culture in Southern California. Besides supplying the local market, florists have occasionally made shipments of cut flowers to the East, with varying success. At Redondo, Oceanside and Santa Monica may be seen several acres of magnificent carnations. The growing of seeds for Eastern dealers is a profitable business. One enterprising woman at San Buena Ventura has made a great success in growing seeds and developing new varieties. There have been attempts at the manufacture of perfumery from flowers. *~«*-2%: "i -'■ ■¥-' -*y;^i '■ "^^ V. CENTRAL CALIFORNIA. /^ENTRAL CALIFORNIA comprises that part ^-^ of the State between Tehachapi Mountains and San Francisco. Its chief feature is the great San Joaquin Valley, bordered on sunset and sunrise sides by the Sierra Nevada and coast ranges. Going from Barstow (junction point for Southern California) over the line of the Santa Fe to San Francisco, the desert continues as far as Mojave. The railroad has robbed these wastes of their w^orst terrors. Occasional friendly oases mark the homes of adventurous settlers, and on either hand scarred mountain-faces proclaim the conquering miner, •who, seeking gold, is undismayed by Nature's for- bidding front. Off to the north is the Randsburg mining district, reached from Kramer Station. But the prevailing note is that of silence and desolation. Beyond Mojave the line bears northward. The summit of Tehachapi Range is achieved by a series of remarkable loops and tunnels. Tehachapi Pass, with its limpid streams, shady forests and cool air, 1 80 is in pleasing contrast to the hot Mojave sands.'* ^ The altitude is nearly 4,000 feet, with steep grades ^.^^^.^'i.^^ that are only surmounted by a strong and steady 'St^^p pull. Rapidly descending, the imperial San Joa- v>?>^-. quin Valley, 32,000 square miles in extent, is entered at Bakersfield. In this magnificent basin, containing ten million acres of arable land, products of the temperate, semi-tropical and tropical zones flourish side by side. Along its eastern slope are numerous mines and dense forests, while at its southern extremity an extensive petroleum field pours rich floods from a thousand throats. Through this valley runs the Santa Fe's newest train, the luxurious "Saint-Angel," between San Diego, Los Angeles and San Francisco — a night run both ways, for the most part, and with service equaling that of any "limited." The pleasure-seeker may be wooed from his Pullman by stories of the wondrous big trees that are reached by stage rides from either Merced or Visalia stations ; or he may be attracted by the scenic beauties of lovely Yosemite (now expedi- tiously reached via Merced and the Yosemite Valley Railroad), and the wild canyons of Kings and Kern rivers — these latter known to few travelers, but pronounced indescribably grand. A San Joaquin Valley Vineyard Mount Whitney, the king of the California Sierras, rises higher than any peak in the United States, exclusive of the Alaskan giants. The business man will be allured by the many opportunities here offered for successful farming, manufacturing and trading. This vast expanse constitutes one-fifth of California's total area, con- tains twelve counties, is 260 miles long by 60 to 90 miles wide, and is nearly as large as Indiana. Steamers ply between San Francisco and Stock- ton; the San Joaquin River is navigable at all times for a considerable distance, especially in the rainy season. It is fed by many tributary streams, such as Kern, Kings, Merced, Tuolumne, and Stanislaus rivers, which head in mountain snows and furnish — by irrigation's aid — abundant water for crops. The east side of the valley is a network of main and lateral canals. Abundant crops are thus assured, for the soil only needs wetting at the right times to yield luxuriantly. Half the grain grown in California is harvested along the San Joaquin. Wheat farms of I0,000 to 50,000 acres are not uncommon. On these big areas wholesale methods are imperative. Large gang plows, operated by traction engines, arc employed. Harvesting is accomplished only by the aid of machines drawn by as many as thirty horses, that cut and thrash the grain, delivering it in sacks ready for shipment. Alfalfa, the favorite forage plant of California, grows greenly on thousands of acres, and great cattle ranches contribute their quota of industrial wealth. The tendency now is to divide these big holdings and invite settlement by small farmers, fruit- raisers, and cattlemen. The Laguna deTache grant, west of Fresno, is an example of such colonization. Raisin and wine industries center at Fresno, where there are raisin-seeding and packing plants, wineries and distilleries. Fresno County alone has 40,000 acres of vineyards. Bakersfield, Corcoran, Tulare, V^'salia, Hanford, Fresno, Merced and Stockton are the principal cities — thriving communities, with modern busi- ness blocks, tree-bowered homes and public build- ings worthy of cities twice their size. Clustering around these busy centers of industry are found immense orchards of prunes, peaches, apricots, figs, and other fruits, also profitable dairies. On the rich river bottom lands, near Stockton, winter vegetables are grown for the Eastern markets. More than a million persons easily could be accommodated on the rich farming lands of the San Joaquin Valley, allowing a family of five to each forty-acre tract. Without wishing to usurp the prerogatives of the real estate boomer, one may truthfully aflirm that the San Joaquin Valley is an ideal place for the man who wishes to begin in a [TSfSS^fS^^- moderate way and surely acquire a competence. Small tracts can be bought at reasonable rates, on time, with excellent water rights. One need not wait years for his orchard to come into bearing. Here the Iowa or Illinois or Nebraska farmer has no new business to learn. He can at once start in raising hogs and cattle, wheat, hay and garden truck, and make the farm pay from the start — gradually working into fruit, as a side issue or the main support, at his convenience. SAN FRANCISCO. From Ferry Point we sight San Francisco, the largest city on the Pacific Coast and the largest in the United States west of the Mississippi. By day its tall buildings rise white and imposing. At night thousands of electric lights illumine the distance like a cluster of diamonds. Leaving the ferry slip, on a huge Santa Fe ferry boat, the traveler soon is out on the bosom of the bay, one of the world's premier harbors — vast, land- locked and deep. Angel Island is first glimpsed, with its Government quarantine and recruiting stations. The island is one-and-a-half miles long, its crest ris- ing 760 feet from the water. Alcatraz Island, where are located the military prison and lighthouse, also is to the right, while to the left is Oakland, the new metropolis on the mainland. To the north is Mare Island, where the big navy yard is located. Mount Diablo seems to rise close to the Suisun shore, and Mount Tamalpais' sharp peak dominates the horizon. After passing Alcatraz, the Golden Gate bursts upon our vision. This name was given by Fre- mont, in 1848, to the straits between bay and ocean, a tide- way passage separating two peninsulas. Smoke wreaths of incoming steamers show above the hori- zon. Transpacific vessels pass on their voyage to the Far East, while the white-painted vessels of the United States transport service lazily ride at anchor. On the high northern bluffs are the guns of a heavy battery of 12-inch rities, making it the Gibraltar of America. Few bays in the world ofifer such a panorama. None, save that of Naples, is so beautiful. The Italian fisher boats — feluccas, they are called — dot this western bay, too. It is easy to imagine that one is cruising, along the Mediterranean or the Adriatic. San Francisco Bay was discovered in 1769 by a Spanish land expedition. The first ship entered the harbor in 1775, a mere dot on a quiet stretch of water seventy miles long and from five to fifteen miles wide. The chief characteristic of San Francisco is its cosmopolitanism. Many races, and many types of the American race, have contributed their quota. W \X'l The Santa Fe Ferry '^'■'<^:.-, ?- - i,|is---^>s . -^ Co Here, away back in 1776, the Franciscan fathers founded the Mission de los Dolores de Nuestra Padre San Francisco de Asis, the sixth mission established in upper California by Father Junipero Serra; but the actual settlement was more recent, in 1835, and known as Yerba Buena trading post. The Santa Fe makes its entry into this modern metropolis of 500,000 inhabitants through the high- towered union ferry station. Besides serving as a depot, here also is a remarkable museum of the resources of California. After the era of the Franciscans — a time of peace and idealism — San Francisco passed into a turmoil of the age of gold — the rough and ready days of the forty-niners, meanwhile changed from Spanish to Mexican rule and subsequently ceded to the United States. This strenuous period of the argonauts and their golden fleece was followed by comparative quiet. Then came the War of the Rebellion. The war over, the town lapsed into a humdrum state, only to be awakened by sandlot riots and the advent of a transcontinental rail- r| , , road. Finally came the quick Jj growth ending with to-day's half /?: a million, the great fire being a .^,^' painful interlude. .^\ Rome, set upon her seven hills, has not had a more eventful history. Oddly enough, though gold was at the basis of its growth, the big 187 r t r ■• iiiii Markit Sirtit. San Fraiw k-^^V? values to-day come from cattle, wool, cereals, fruits, sugar and wines. Picturesque and wholly charming the old San Francisco certainly was, a romantic note in story, art and song. And the San Francisco spirit has been breathed into much of the world's most fascinating literature. While many of the quaint abodes of Bohemianism were wiped out by the calamity of 1906, the essential spirit has not been changed. To that old gaiety and picturesqueness is now added a mature beauty which the old city at its best never had. Immediately after the great fire many of San Fran- cisco's citizens proposed that the new metropolis be built upon lines of classic beauty. But the impera- tive necessity of immediately rehousing the homeless multitude and of rehabilitating nearly every business enterprise, forbade carrying out these ambitious projects at that time. Now, however, rebuilt and prosperous, the city has taken the matter up definitely, with the result that about $9,000,000 has been voted as the initial step in perfecting a civic center. Several blocks are to be taken near Golden Gate avenue and Market street. One of the salient points in the group of buildings to be placed about the boundaries of this open park will be a new city hall, to cost $4,500,000. Here will be erected, also, a niassive auditorium, besides many other edifices of a public character. Incidental to this ambitious I scheme is the building of many miles of boulevards. San Francisco's main artery is Market street. From this wide thoroughfare radiate streets in every direction. By transfer one may reach almost any part of the metropolis. This alluring city of the Golden Gate comfort- ably can accommodate a hundred thousand visitors in a thousand hotels of every grade and nationality. Its restaurants are as famous as those of Paris. One may w^ander away from the exclusive inns of the downtown district — like the St. Francis, the Fairmont and the Palace — to the foreign quarters, and in a few minutes revel in the cooking of an Italian cuisinier or sit down to a repast prepared by a chef from Budapest. Even the names are whimsical — Poodle Dog and Pig'n Whistle being typical. Here the American has made way for the swarth Slavon- ian, the yellow Chinese and the suave Frenchman. Mexican and Spanish types also are found. While Bohemianism is a cult, San Francisco has the commercial spirit, too. Commerce over seas vies with the vast inland trade. Its docks fly the flags of all nations. Its products are shipped to every port the world over. The tonnage rapidly is increasing, with jumps of a million tons yearly. When the water-front is fully developed the length will exceed thirty-five miles. The bank clearings approximate $50,000,000 a week, there being forty- eight banks with a capital and surplus exceeding $80,000,000. 189 Music Stand, Golden Gate Park M San Francisco's parks are thirtv-tvvo in number, ranging from tiny Portsmouth Square, on the edge of Chinatown, where Robert Louis Stevenson used to sun himself, to mammoth Golden Gate Park, which extends three and a half miles from the city's center to the Pacific surf. Unchecked by frosts, grass grows green the year 'round. Here may be seen antelope, deer, bear, bufifalo, elk, kangaroo and moose, all living in domesticated contentment. Historical art is represented by monuments to Burns, Key, Serra, Grant, Garfield, Halleck, McKinley and other notables. The museum build- ing is a memorial of the midwinter fair of 1895. From the Cliff House, on the ocean front, may be seen the sea-lions, on Seal Rock, and the Sutro salt water baths. The city itself now extends far beyond the limits of Golden Gate Park, The club life of San Francisco is another inter- esting feature. Possibly the Bohemian club is the widest known, because of its literary and artistic membership, and the unique entertainments given, such as the Midsummer Jinks on Russian River. The Pacific-Union, which is the oldest of the men's social clubs, occupies the old Flood mansion on Nob Hill. Always famous for its theatres, when the projected municipal opera house in the civic center is finished, the long seasons of grand opera will have a fitting home. The presidio, largest of Uncle Sam's military headquarters on the Pacific slope, extends along the 191 Court of Palms, Panama-Pacific Exposition. northern extremity of the peninsula, adjoining the main Panama-Pacific exposition site. Forts Baker, Barry, Mason, McDowell, and Miley guard the city from attack by land or sea. Chinatown still exists, a quaint Oriental note on the edge of the down-town district. It is as if a bit of Cantonese life had been set down in modern America. The eight thousand residents of the Chinese quarter have their own newspapers and banks ; but it is in their shops and joss houses that the visitor will find the most entertainment. Two solid blocks on Grant Avenue are lined with bazaars, each a museum of Chinese art. The northern extremity of Chinatown merges into the Italian quarter. PANAMA-PACIFIC INTERNATIONAL EXPOSITION. The opening of the Panama Canal will change some of the currents of commerce and increase San Francisco's ocean trade. The many miles of dock- age, along the shores of San Francisco Bay, soon are to be occupied by big liners from all over the world. Thus having easy and cheap access to raw materials everywhere, and with inexhaustible quan- tities of cheap fuel oil close at hand, her growth as a manufacturing center is assured. The Panama-Pacific International Exposition will be held here from February 20 to December 4, 1915, to celebrate the completion and formal open- ing of the Panama Canal — a vision of ivory and 13 193 gold, covering 625 acres, with a frontage of three miles on the northern shore line of the penin- sula and enclosed on three sides by abruptly rising ground. This undertaking will require an expenditure of fifty million dollars. Much of this amount is to be so spent that while it will all contribute to the beauty of that ephemeral wonder city by the Golden Gate, it will survive the closing of the Exposition and remain as a permanent part of the San Francisco that is to be. Triumphal Arch ^nder this plan it is proposed practically to surround and gridiron the city with a system of wide boulevards, which will border the water sides of the city — the Bay, the Golden Gate and the open ocean. The exposition grounds are situated between the presidio and the Italian quarter, locally known as North Beach. The National Government is planning to spend nearly two million dollars on its exhibit, which will be staged upon a ten-acre field. Here will be exemplified the building of the Panama Canal, sanitation, general engineering, fisheries and light- house service. There will be thirteen exhibit palaces, including 194 J Festival Hall, with an area of 3,730,000 square feet. Fifty acres will be devoted to a horticultural display, forty acres to state buildings and thirty-five acres to foreign buildings. The main edifices will be centrally grouped, in a series of quadrangles, connected by arcades and courts. The western court, with its Moorish arches, will remind one of the Alhambra; the eastern court will be Oriental in design. The northern facade will front San Francisco Bay. Along this waterfront is the Marina, a great marine esplanade with gardens and terraces, beautified by fountains and statuary. There will be naval reviews, displays and maneu- vers galore. In the Bay alone is abundant sea room in which to assemble the combined fleets of all nations, a superb spectacle. A varied program of spectacular events is assured. The international military tournament, participated in by foreign troops, also American militia and regulars — nearly forty thousand men — ^will last all summer. Aviation and ath- letic meets, boat and auto races, and a song festival, are other attractions. American art will receive a new impetus, and up-to-date educational displays will be a prominent feature. By day the ivory buff walls of the buildings, with their red-tiled roofs, green domes and splashes of blue and gold, will be a color 195 h Toiver of Administration Building revelation. At night it will be an electric fairyland, with striking effects never before used. At the foot of Market street, where the ferry system pours out its flood of passengers, and where travelers over the Santa Fe are landed after an all- too-short ferry ride over the waters of the Bay from Richmond, the gate of the Exposition City will open to its guests. Market street, San Francisco's main thoroughfare, is one hundred and twenty feet wide. For a distance of over two miles this street, lined with tall buildings and at night blazing with lights, will be an avenue of triumph, Zeppelin dirigibles will be on exhibition, carrying passengers on daily trips for hundreds of miles. Other world's fairs have had their midways under different names. None of these lanes of laughter, down which the revelers of past expositions have strayed, has had such ideal surroundings or a wider field from which to garner all that is quaint, pictur- esque, laughable, sensational and educative. A concession has been granted the Santa Fe for five acres of ground, on which will be built a replica of the Grand Canyon of Arizona, with a Pueblo Indian village. The observer will ride along the rim in electric cars. Parties will be seen going up and down the trails, while the rainbow tints of the canyon itself, as well as the immense reaches and titanic forms, will be worked out in a realistic manner. It is the most expensive and startling scenic spectacle ever staged at any world's fair. 196 OAKLAND. Suffering somewhat in prestige by having been considered for many years as a suburb of San Francisco, Oakland recently has been assert- ing its own individuality. Probably no city on the Pacific coast has made more marked progress in the last five years. With a population now of about one hundred and sixty thousand, Oakland has become distinctly urban, with a clearing-house of its own, large and numerous banking houses, hotels, theatres, cafes and public buildings. It has had a won- derful development in the last AVoy Municipal Building. Oakland few years, with assurance of a prosperous future. Resting in the amphitheatre formed bythe Sierran foothills back of it, with the Bay on its front, the peninsula of San Francisco four miles due west, and a landlocked harbor six miles in length on its southern side, its location is commercially most for- tunate. Its eastern shore has fifteen miles of water front, while Oakland Estuary and the basin lying at its head is suited for shipping of larger draft. Manufacturing interests are moving up the eastern shore of the Bay; the room, the small cost of ground, close touch with overland railway, ship and factory appealing to manufacturers. While still keeping its residential charm, lately 197 Oakland has become one of the most important business centers of the Pacific Coast. The topog- raphy of the city makes natural the separation of residence and business sections. It is built upon an almost level plain that slopes gradually from the Bay to the foothills of the Contra Costas. The two miles or so of this plain have been built over with factories and warehouses, near the water- front ; then comes the retail district. The better class of residences occupy the nearer slopes of the hills. These hills, extending through the whole East Bay section for a dozen miles back of the growing cities which make up the Oakland district, have become the sites of country villas. From the heart of Oakland's business district the terraced ridges of the Contra Costa hills are in plain view, green with trees and grass and dotted with dwellings. A fifteen-minute street- car ride takes one from factories and business Berkely Cs.hl- Sania Fe Station, (^a/ctaiid blocks to green-clad heights with their scenic drives of varied beauty. Hotel Oakland occupies two acres in heart of city. Completed recently at a cost of two million dollars, it is one of the finest metropolitan hotels on the Coast. Oakland has a frontage on San Francisco Bay of thirty miles. Six miles of this is occupied by wharves or included in municipal plans for further improvement. To this add about four miles of prospective landlocked deep-water dockage in what is known as the inner harbor or estuary. Approxi- mately twenty millions of dollars have been expended on this enterprise. In 1911 over four million tons of freight were handled over the wharves of Oakland's water front. Piedmont Park, in the Piedmont Hills section; Lake Merritt, in the heart of the residence district, 5 !» ill Hotel Oakland i and Idora Park, near the northern line of the city, provide outdoor pleasure. Immediately north of Oakland lies Berkeley, the rapid growth of both having practically erased the dividing lines. This lovely town, sloping up from the water front and crowning the Berkeley hills with gardens, groves and villas, is the home of California's State university, set in a campus of great natural beauty. In an amphitheatre on this campus, surrounded by a grove of trees, is the Greek Theatre, known the world over for its revivals of old Greek tragedies here staged by some of the world's most celebrated artists. More mod- ern spectacles are produced, too, on gigantic scale. From no point are finer views to be had of the wide sweep of San Francisco's harbor than from the hills immediately back of the University campus, and from those farther north, and there are few more inspiring panoramas. Away to the north are the outlines of the giant Sierras; in the immediate foreground, Mount Tamalpais, the Golden Gate, San Francisco and the peaks behind it ; below, far to the south, Berkeley, Oakland, Alameda ; and still beyond, the shining waters of the Bay and the Coast Range peaks. Berkeley, with only about 18,000 people in 1900, had increased to more than 40,000 in 1910, and now is well on toward the 50,000 mark. Richmond, a thriving town of ten thousand population and a terminal of the Santa Fe, has grown with mushroom rapidity. It is the home of the refineries of the Standard Oil Company, of the PuUnian plant, and a host of other manu- facturing industries. For only a dollar one may take the Key Route trolley trip — a sixty-mile ride in special electric cars from San Francisco (by ferry) and Oakland along the eastern shore of San Francisco Bay — under personal escort, including admission to recre- ation parks, art galleries and other attractions. A day can be spent very pleasantly on this popular sight-seeing tour. SUBURBAN SAN FRANCISCO. Suburban San Francisco embraces much of inter- est. One of its chief charms is its infinite variety. Here one may enjoy the commanding views fur- nished by the highlands and the cosiness of the valleys. Many good country clubs play a large part in the lives of the residents. The bay shore cities of Berkeley, Oakland and Alameda (housing a population one-half as great as San Francisco's normal number), are in turn neighbored by pretty suburbs. On the heights above Oakland is the home of Joaquin Miller, farther south Mills College, delightfully environed, and several charming picnic parks — among them Piedmont Springs and Leona Heights. On the Marin County shore, beyond the Golden Gate, are Sausah'to and Mill Valley, through which a winding scenic railway is built to the half-mile high summit of Mount Tamalpais, from whence one may view the entire bay region. The trip is similar to the climb up Mount Lowe, near Los Angeles. Farther inland is the charming residence suburb of San Rafael. To the south, along the peninsula, one comes upon the homes of some of California's million- aires, at Burlingame, of polo repute, Milbrae, and San Mateo, while below the junction of San Fran- cisco's peninsula with the mainland the Santa Clara Valley stretches southward between the Coast and Santa Cruz ranges. Along this valley lies the way to San Jose and the coast resorts of Santa Cruz and Monterey, with intermediate points of celebrity. Palo Alto is the site of the Stanford University, where, in a campus of 8,000 acres, an arboretum to which every clime has liberally contributed, stands this magnificent memorial of a cherished son. The buildings are conceived in the style of mission archi- tecture — low structures connected by an arcade surrounding an immense inner court, with plain, thick walls, arches and columns, built of hufi sand- stone and roofed with red tiles. Hard' by, at Menlo Park, is the Stanford horse breeding and training establishment, where hun- dreds of thoroughbreds are carefully tended in paddock and stable, and daily trained. A PACIFIC TOUR. Along the great San Francisco water front, with its masts and spars, flapping sails and ship chan- dlery stores, the very spirit of roving and adventure is in the air. A stroll here will impress the visitor with the city's wonderful future possibilities. The dream that along San Francisco Bay will be built n world-city bids fair to become a reality. Here one may observe the big four-masters, laden with wheat brought around Cape Horn. A rakish brig unloads a cargo of copra and sandalwood, which tells of the scented groves of south Pacific islanc's. Over 3'onder are big bunkers, with sooty workmen and busy engines, straining at coal buckets. Farther on is a party of gold-seekers, bound for the Alaskan fields. Other steamers are taking on passengers and freight for lower California, Panama and Mexico, or for the far-off countries of the Orient. Japanese, Chinese and Koreans mingle with the throng. A patriotic bit of color is displayed where soldiers just back from the Philippines are disembarking. And when evening comes on, the deep-sea chants rise above the city's roar as anchors are lifted. One then keenly feels the call of the sea. The g_*nius of Stevenson has woven a halo of romance over these semi-tropical seas that woos the traveler with well-nigh irresistible charm. As you look westward out of the nation's front door from the 203 Cliff House headland height, it would be strange, indeed, if you were not seized with a longing to set sail. Where will you go — since go you must ? To Hawaii ? Magical isles, wreathed in flowers and laved by flashing summer seas ; land of banana plantations, cane and rice fields ; land of roaring volcanoes and verdant plains. To Samoa ? Coral shores under the Stars and Stripes ; happy natives, cocoanut palms and delicious tropical fruit, transparent seas and beautiful shells. To Tahiti ? Riotous vegetation, the supple bamboo, broad-leaved banana and lance-leaved mango ; an out-of-doors country, where houses are used only to sleep in. To New Zealand ? Newest England, as it has been fittingly called ; half round the world, but nearer than many of you have thought ; the famous west coast sounds, rivaling the fiords of Norway. To Australia ? A partly explored continent of vast and varied resources ; wonderful cities, strange races, and strange flora and fauna, kangaroos and paroquets, cockatoos and pouched bears. Which one, or all of them ? It can not be decided for you here. Indeed, the purpose of these brief pages is only suggestive, to point the way and tell you of the excellent facilities for travel. Other publications will tell you more in detail of the attractions, and they may be had for the asking from agents of the Santa Fe. One rare trip outlined therein is around the world via -Sffi San Francisco, Hawaii, Samoa, New Zealand, Aus- tralian ports, India, Suez, the Mediterranean, Continental Europe, England, Atlantic liners, and United States railways. The Union Steamship Co. of New Zealand runs a monthly boat from San Francisco to Sydney, Australia, via Papeete, Raratonga and Wellington. Return can be made via Suva or Hong Kong and Honolulu. Their steamers (theAorangi, Manuka and Tahiti) are 8,ooo to i2,ooo tons displacement, and are fitted with the most modern appliances for speed, safety and comfort. Connections arc made for the islands of the Pacific and for the Orient. The Oceanic Steamship Co. (Spreclcels Line) has established new service to Sydney, Australia. Steamers, of I0,000 tons displacement, sail from San Francisco every four weeks. The voyage consumes nineteen days, including stops for Hawaiian Islands and Samoa. These boats are especially fitted for tropical voyaging, with large and well ventilated cabins. The Oceanic S. S. Co. still has fast passenger service to Honolulu, Hawaii, with sailings every two weeks. Luxurious steamers of the Pacific Mail and Toyo Risen Kaisha lines may be taken from San Francisco on a straightaway cruise to Yokohama, and thence to Hong Kong. By this route both China and Japan may be visited, including a run down to our new possessions in the Philippines. The steamers are all swift, commodious and sea- worthy. 205 COAST LINE TO SAN FRANCISCO. The coast route northward from Los Angeles by rail has many notable attractions, chief of which are Santa Barbara (page 169), Monterey and San Jose. The two last namsd may be conve- niently visited by a short ride from San Francisco and the first from Los Angeles. The traveler who elects to follow the coast in his journey to the Golden Gate will be taken northward and then west to the sea at San Buena Ventura. On the way San Fernando (near which are the ruins of the San Fernando Mission) is passed and a considerable oil district in the vicinity of Newhall and Santa Paula ; also Oxnard and its big beet sugar factory, producing 75,000,000 pounds of sugar annually. At San Buena Ventura is another mission estab- lishment surrounded by luxuriant orchards of deciduous fruits and vast lima bean fields, the product of which reaches far-away Boston. Beyond San Buena Ventura the winding coast lip -3 is closely followed for a hundred miles or more to and through Santa Barbara, until crossing the mountains it leads down into the Salinas Valley, a mfuntain-walled, oak-dotted park, the northern end of which merges in the far-famed Santa Clara Vdley of the north. From the gray-brown bluffs and rounded hills, lor the hundred or so miles bv the sea, but little 206 hint is given of the fertile interior; but a continu- ous marine panorama of wave-washed shore is unfolded, with a far-reaching ocean view bounded by the Channel Islands. Wayside items are the asphaltum pits and ocean oil-wells at Summerland, the mammoth eucalyptus trees and great olive orchards at Ellwood in the Goleta Valley, the asphaltum works at Alcatraz Landing, and the mouth of historic Gaviota Pass. There are picturesque ranch houses of the old days, also herds of grazing cattle and sheep, vast fields of grain and mustard and sugar beets, the largest vegetable and flower seed farms in the world, and many other features, each adding inter- est to the journey, but which must be considered minor attractions where so much is worthy. San Luis Obispo is a city of four thousand popu- lation, the business center of a rich valley. The mountains overshadow it. The church of the old mission of San Luis Obispo is here. Northward from San Luis a climb over a spur of the Santa Lucia Mountains, with numerous curves in the track, presents from the car window a bird's- eye view of the city and fertile valley in which it Hjs. Paso Robles (pass of the oaks) is a place of wonderful mineral springs with a fine hotel and bathhouses. Not far away is Santa \sabel ranch, and Hot Springs. Salinas is a town of growing importance. Near it is the great Spreckels beet sugar factory, one of the largest in the world. -.'iflCt^'^^'iS^ Ajv'J Knbhs Ilotil A slight divergence from the main line at Cas- troville will bring you to Hotel del Monte and the famous old town of Monterey, on the southern shore of Monterey Bay. Monterey was the old capital of California in the earliest period of Spanish rule. Here the forest crowds upon the sea and mingles its odor of balm with that of the brine. The beach that divides them is broken by cliffs where the cypress finds footing, and in the gentle air of a perfect climate the wild flowers bloom profusely. Upon such a foundation the Hotel del Monte, with its vast parks of lawn and garden and driveway, covering many hundred acres, is set, all its magnificence lending really less than it owes to the infinite charm of Monterey. Its fame has spread through every civilized land, and European as well as American visitors make up its throng. The hotel is located in a scattering grove of 200 acres, a little east from the town, and for lavishness of luxury and splendor in constructionand accessory has perhaps no superior. It is a golfer's paradise with fine links, well-grassed and kept in tip-top condition. The specific points of interest are Carmel Mission, Pacific Grove, Moss Beach, Seal Rocks, and Cypress Point. The pretty city of Santa Cruz at the northern end of Monterey Bay is reached from Del Monte by a railway along the shore. It is also reached direct from San Francisco by a line crossing the beautiful Santa Cruz Mountains and passing through the big trees {Sequoia semper virens) . 2o8 It is San Francisco's most popular seaside resort as well as a notable summering and vvinterinj^ place for many eastern people. There arc good hotels and ample facilities for enjoying the pleas- ures of the sea. An interesting industry of the place is the exca- vation of asphalt from a small mountain of the almost pure material. By the main line again toward San Francisco from Castroville one comes upon San Jose, the Garden City, at the junction of the narrow gauge line to Santa Cruz. The appellation Garden City may be taken literally, for besides its urban beau- ties, it lies in the center of the largest compact orchard area in the world. Perhaps there is not, in the whole of Northern California, a town more attractively environed. It is protected by mountain walls from every wander- ing asperity of land or sea; a clean, regularly plat- ted city, reaching ofi through avenues of pine and of eucalyptus, and through orchards and vineyards, to pretty forest slopes where roads climb past rock, glen and rivulet to fair, commanding heights. The immediate neighborhood is the center of prune production, and every year exports great quantities of berries, fruits and wines. The largest seed- farms and the largest herd of short-horned cattle in the world are here, Twentj'-six miles east from San Jose is Mount Hamilton, upon whose summit the white wall of the Lick Observatory is plainly visible at that 209 I distance. Tliisobscrvatory has already become celebrated for the discovery of Jupiter's fifth sateUite, and gives promise of affording many another astronomical sensation in time to come. Visitors are permitted to look through the great telescope one night in the week, and in the intervals a smaller glass sufficiently powerful to yield a good view of the planets in the broad sunlight of midday is devoted to their entertainment. It is reached by stage from San Jose, the round trip being made daily. Aside from the attraction of the famouii sky-glass, supplemented by the multitudinous an:! elaborate mechanisms of the observatory, the ride through the mountains to Mount Hamilton more than compensates the small fatigue of the journey. There are backward glimpses of the beautiful val- ley, and a changing panorama of the Sierra, the road making loops and turns in the shadow of live-oaks on the brink of profound craterlike depressions. The remainder of the coast-line trip to the Golden Gate has already received brief mention under title of Suburban San Francisco. YOSEMITE VALLEY. The high Sierras have been termed the American Alps, and merit the appellation. Here are snowy peaks that meet the sky along a thousand miles of the California border, and, crowning all. Mount Whitney, the loftiest peak in the United States. There are in this Sierra region mighty evergreen forests, groves of the greatest and grandest trees in the world, the Canyons of Kings and Kern Rivers, Lassen Buttes, the Minarets, and numerous other wonders. Not a mile of the gigantic mountain ridge but is replete with interest. Among them all, however, Yosemite is the best known and the most easily accessible. It lies due east of San Fran- cisco, at an elevation of 4,000 feet, and is reached from Merced (a prosperous town on the Santa Fe in the San Joaquin Valley) ; thence by the Yosemite Valley R. R. eighty miles to the boundary line of Yosemite Park, ending with a short and enjoyable stage ride of twelve miles. The way is by Merced Falls and Pleasant Valley, up the picturesque Canyon of the Merced River and near the old-time mining town of Coulterville, to El Portal. The entire trip may be made easily and comfortably in about half a day. The Mariposa, Merced and Tuolumne groups of giant sequoias may be reached as a side trip. These monster trees are from 25 to 30 feet in diameter at base and are of fabulous age — quite the oldest living things on earth's crust. And there is nothing finer in the Black Forest of Ger- many than the great sugar pines near Hazel Green. Yosemite Valley itself does not disappoint. The floor is a parklike tract about eight miles long by half a mile to a frolics glade mile wide. The Merced River its way through this mountain 212 and around it rise imperious walls thousands of feet high. As you enter, mighty El Capitan rears its monumental form 3,200 feet at your left. It is a solid mass of granite, taller than the valley is wide at this point and presenting two perpendicular faces. On the other hand Bridal Veil Fall is flinging cascades of lacelike delicacy from a height of 950 feet, and in the far distance you catch a glimpse of Half Dome, Washington Columns and the crests of the highest Sierra peaks. The road leads on beyond Cathedral Spires, Three Brothers and Sentinel Rock, the valley widens and Yosemite Falls appear, with the Sentinel Hotel and the little village at the stage terminus, midway between the falls and Glacier Point opposite. Beyond Glacier Point the valley angles sharply, and in the recess thus formed Vernal, Nevada, and lUiloutte Falls, Liberty Cap and Mount Broderick are located, but are not visible from the hotel. Looking east, Half Dome presents an almost per- pendicular wall; at its base is Mirror Lake, and, opposite. North Dome and Washington Arches. The peak of Half Dome is 4,737 feet above 213 ?3t '1ft!. /, the vallcv floor, and 8,7^7 feet above the sea. Yosemitc is accessible and may be explored easily. The best time to ^o is in May and June, when there is no dust and the falls are full of water. The main tourist season usually begins the middle of April and lasts until October, though one may go in both earlier and later if desired. In midwinter the snowfall is quite heavy and the outdoor life per- tains to that season — skating, toboggan- ing and sleigh riding. The mountain trails are closed then; but there's plenty to do and see on the floor of the Valley. There are excellent hotels and public camps, or you may bring your own outfit and pitch tent almost anywhere, witli reasonable limitations. There are telephone antl telegraph facilities, a general store and a postoffice with daily mail. The custodian of the valley resides here. Charges for guides, carriages, sad- dle animals, etc., are regulated by a commission, and there are no tolls. The entire Yosemite National Park is now under control of the United States Government. You may visit both the base and lip of Nevada Falls, poise in mid-air from the over- hanging rock at Glacier Point, gaze 4,000 feet below from a parapet of Three Brothers or ofif to the wilderness of peaks that lose themselves in the sky to the eastward ; or you may pitch pebbles into the gushing torrent of Yosemite Falls, where it makes its dizzy leap over the cliff. aiS The glory of Yosemite has passed into hterar ture. It lends to word-painting as do but few of Nature's masterpieces. Yet all the pens that have essayed to describe it can have con- veyed to you but little of its charm unless you have visited the wonderful valley. Only for those who have seen can the name conjure up visions of a waterfall of filmy tracery that bends and sways in the breeze, of a gigantic clifif that stands at the portal a colossal greeting and fare- well, of another fall whose waters plunge from a far height half a mile above you. It were idle to enumerate. No single feature wins admiration. It is the harmonious whole, blending majesty with color, form and action, that woos all our senses with siren touch. It is not a matter of height or breadth or mere bigness. The Grand Canyon of Arizona outclasses Yosemite a hundred times over in greatness and other-world- ness. But here Nature is truly feminine ; she is tender, gracious and becomingly gowned ; she puts on little airs; she is in the mood for comradeship. For here are found song birds, gorgeous wild flowers, ;('" ^ -, rippling streams, grassy parks and bowers of shrubbery and ferns. These, quite as much as the bee- tling crag or stupendous waterfall, are the secret of Yosemite's hold on the imagination. It is this sense of the supremely beautiful incar- nated which makes Yosemite the desire of all travelers. El C a pi tan KINGS RIVER CANYON. Kings River Canyon is destined soon to become as noted as Yosemite Valley or the Shasta Region. Few travelers have visited this beauty spot of the high Sierras because few know of it and it is not quite as easily gotten at as other sections. You must sleep in a sleeping-bag and use both saddle and pack animals to reach Kings River Canyon. For the person who seeks a real campmg- out vacation, good fishing and beautiful scenery, in a region untouched and unspoiled by civilization, surely this region is his paradise. And the trail leads through the Big Trees. Kings River Canyon is situated in Fresno County, about thirty -five miles east of General Grant National Park. In this Park and Sequoia National Park, also between the two, are found the Big Trees — the largest groves and largest trees in California. The best way to reach Kings River Canyon is to leave the Santa Fe train at Visalia; thence electric line (forty-five minutes' ride) to Lemon Cove, and stage from Lemon Cove to Camp Sierra in Sequoia National Park, or to Camp Juanita, a few miles south of General Grant National Park. From these points, saddle and pack animals must be used. Immediately after leaving either camp, one is ush- ered into a dense forest of pine and redwood, through verdant meadows and across crystal streams. The summit of the trail is at Lookout Point, on 217 the very brink of Kings River Canyon, altitude 8,547 feet. From Lookout Point you look down to the floor of the Canyon 3,916 feet belou\ The chasm is studded with stately trees, and through it races Kings River. Above the wall of the Canyon are seen the snow-clad peaks and domes which form the backbone of the Western divide. When the floor is reached, the roughness of the trail "^l^::^^^ changes to park-like surround- ings. There are a few substantial bridges, which make it possible to cross the turbulent waters of Kings River in safety. A short ride brings you to "Kanawyers," the only camp in Kings River Canyon. From this base side trips are made to Paradise Valley, Rae Lake, Bull Frog Lake, Mt. Whitney and hundreds of other wonderful places. If one chooses, these points can be visited and the journey continued through Kearsarge Pass to the desert side, coming out by way of Independence and Moliave, California. Trail Party, Kii Rizcr Caiiyoi. SS9 f/waSVi;?>*l. '■■>:-* .i/*:£sii*'^^^~'* ^<>'A- Call forma Groove of B'l^ Trees GOOD ROADS IN CALIFORNIA. Recojj;nizinfi the importance of good roads, pro- gressive citizens, at a special election, recently voted $18,000,000 as an opening gun in the campaign to make the state highways of Califor- nia among the best in the world. A comfortable sum, but only a beginning, and in due time much more must be added. This liberal State appro- priation already had been preceded by the expendi- ture of large sums on behalf of the different counties and cities of California for immediate local improvements along similar lines. California now has many hundred miles of public roads that are ideal for automobiling and driving. Oil is cheap, and a well-oiled and properly cared for roadway is of such inestimable value to the ranch- man, as well as to the tourist and pleasure driver, that a great deal has been accomplished in tl at direction. El Camino Real, planned as a boulevard to follow the line of the old Missions from San Diego northward to San Francisco, is one of the " good roads" projects soon to be realized. And in all parts of the State the work of the campaigners for better highways is being pushed with charac- teristic energy. THE RETURN VIA OGDEN. The trip to California along the old Santa Fe Trail is memorable for its scenic charm. Pleasant, also, because of the comfort of the journey. Hut many travelers like to vary their itinerary and return by a line farther north, which passes through a different region. In recognition of this fact the Santa Fe recently has put on tvv^o superbly equipped fast trains, running daily betw^een San Diego, Los Angeles and San Francisco, by way of Cajon Pass, Tehachapi Pass and San Joaquin Valley. These are locally known as The Saint" and "The Angel." Their equipment is compar- able to that of the California Limited. They &re convenient for both business men and sightseers^ especially those who return across the continent through Ogden and Salt Lake. Going eastward via Ogden the Southern Pacific takes the traveler from Oakland Mole past West Berkeley and Richmond, up along the shore of the Bay and across the Carquinez straits at Benecia. Then, for many miles, the way lies through the big ranches of the Sacramento Valley and Sacra- mento, the capital of the State, is reached. Leaving Sacramento the climb up the western slope of the Sierras is soon begun, past pioneer settlements, like Dutch Flat, Gold Run and Emigrant Gap. Here one sees mile after mile of mountain tops scarred by the old days of hydraulic mining. Here one sees, also, many little mountain towns bowered in roses and golden with orange and lemon trees. Near the end of the climb begins a series of monster snowsheds, by which, for about forty miles over the crest of the Sierras, the winter storms of the Sierran altitudes arc shut out. At the emi of these sheds, and shortly after leaving Suinmit, one looks down upon Donner Lake, some two miles above Truckee. At Truckee the traveler may leave the main line and, after a short ride of fifteen miles along 'the headwaters of Truckee river, come upon in- comparable Lake Tahoe — girt round by rugged mountains. It is of great clarity, so that at the depth of ninety feet and more one distinctly sees the smallest pebbles and ridges of sand. The Lake may be circumnavigated in a day's steamer ride. .Reno next is reached, a city of about thirty thousand people, surrounded by a rich country, recently reclaimed from the sagebrush desert by a Government project. Your eyes are gladdened with the rich greens of intensive cultivation, and other signs of agricultural prosperity. Thence across Nevada, past Battle Mountain, Palisade and Elko, until at Lakeside, on the west- ward border of the Great Salt Lake of our school geographies, begins the ride of about two hours over Lucin Cut-Ofif — a feat of engineering that has built a solid roadbed across the lake instead of skirting its northern borders, as did the older line. A short run after leaving the lake brings the train into Ogden, an important Utah city and railroad division point. The Western Pacific Railway offers still another series of views between San Francisco and Ogden 223 On the line of the Western Pacific Rail'u.ay Ttmple Square, Salt Lake City by way of Salt Lake. Leaving Oakland this line runs southward a short distance to Haywards, turn- ing north and east at Livermorc. It passes through Stockton, now sharing largely in the abundant prosperity of the lower San Joaquin Valley, and comes into Sacramento from the south. Leaving Sacramento it continues north through the Sacramento valley, a region of rich agricultural lands, passing Marysville, one of the old California towns of the days of gold. Just above Oroville the Western Pacific enters the Golden Canyon of Feather River. At Oroville the climb has begun along this river toward the highest point on the line, which is reached at Bcck- with Pass — elevation only 4,754 feet. Along Feather River the road follows the North Fork, winding by easy grades through a deep canyon for about one hundred and twenty-three miles. These rock-wallcd canyons alternate with peaceful meadows, surrounded by high mountains. "A Royal Gorge ninety miles long" is the way one of the constructing engineers described the canyon of Feather River — an apt phrase. Once over the summit, green mountains give place to yellow deserts with low hills and long stretches of sand and sage. Then come gleaming salt beds, with strange mirages of rivers, lakes and islands in the blue distance. As the train approaches Great Salt Lake there are miles of salt beds which in the early dawn or moonlight look like driven snow. This inland sea 225 is a gleaming body of sea-green water, of unusual size and beauty. The Western Pacific crosses an arm of it on a causeway high above the waves. Eastward from Ogden and Salt Lake City the routes to Denver traverse either southern Wyoming and northern Colorado, through Cheyenne; or Utah and central Colorado, by way of Grand Junc- tion and Leadville. Several high passes of the Rockies are crossed and many canyon abysses are threaded, before the Rampart Range of the Rockies is reached. Colorado has been called the Switzerland of America. Its plains country starts in about where Mount Washington leaves off, the mountain chains and peaks rising nearly two miles higher. There is no finer scenery in America than along this sec- tion of the transcontinental journey. Pueblo, Colo- rado Springs and Denver are elsewhere mentioned briefly. The Santa Fe has its own rails from these chief cities of Colorado to Kansas City and Chi- cago, and the train service is excellent. 226 SPANISH NAMES, THEIR MEANING AND PRONUNCIATION. Nanie. Meaning. Pronunciation. Adobe, sun-dried brick Ah-do'-ba)'. Alameda, shady walk (from J^lamos, poplars) Ah-lah-may^-dah. Alamitos, small cottonwoods. Ah-lah-mee'-tos. Alcatraz, pelican Al-cah-trahs''. (In Mexico z is pronounced like double s, in Spain like /// in think). Albuquerque Ahl-boo-ker''-kay. Alejandro, Alexander Ah-Iay-hahn''-dr6. Almaden, mine Al-mah-den'. Alvarado, Spanish explorer . . Ahl-vah-rah''-d6. Amador, lover Ah-mah-dor''. Anita, Anna Ah-nee'-tah. Antonio, Anthony An-to''-nee-6. Arroyo Seco, dry ravine Ar-ro\v'y6 Say'-co (with the r strongly trilled) . Bernalillo, little Bernal Behr-nal-eeK-yo. Bernardino, little Bernard . . . Behr-nahr-dee''-no. Boca, mouth Bo''-cah. Bonita, pretty Bo-nee'tah. Buena Vista, good view Bway'-nah Vees^-tah. Cajon, large chest or box . . . .Cah-hon''. Calaveras, skulls Cah-lah-vay'-rahs. Caliente, hot Cah-lee-en'-tay. Campo, country or field Cahm'-po. Canyon Diablo, Devil Canyon. Cahn-yon' Dee-ah'-blo. Capistrano, named from an Indian saint Cah-pees-trah''-n6. Carlos, Charles Car'-16s. 227 Name. Meaning. Pronunciation. Carmencita, little Carmen . . . Car-men-see'-tah. Casa Blanca, white house. . . .Cah'-sah Blahn'-ca. Centinela, sentinel Sen-tee-nay-^lah. Cerrillos, little hills Ser-reeK-yos. Chico, small Chee'-ko. Ci^naga, marsh See-en'ah-gah. Colorado, red Ko-16-rah'-do. Conejo, rabbit. K6-nay^-h6. Contra Costa, opposite coast .Kon''-trah Kos'-tah. Coronado, crowned (named for explorer) Ko-ro-nah'-do. Corral, enclosure Kor-rahl'. Corralitos, small enclosures . .Kor-rahl-ee''-t6s. Covina, small cane K6-vee''-nah. Coyote, prairie wolf Ko-y6'-tay. Del Norte, of the north Del Nor^-tay. Del Sur, of the south Del Soor'. Dos Palmas, two palms Dos PahK-mahs. El Cajon, the large box El Kah-hon'. EI Capitan, the captain El Kah-pee-tahn^. El Dorado, the gilded El Do-rah'-do. El Monte, the hill El Mon'-tay. El Morro, the castle El Mor'-ro. EI Paso, the pass El Pah''-s6. El Torro, the bull El To'-ro. Encinitas, evergreen oaks. . . .En-see-nee''-tas. Escondido, hidden Es-con-di''-do. Estrella, star Es-treK-ya. Farallones, small i;>lands, high, rough and difficult of ac- cess Fah''-rahl-yon^-es. Fresno, ash tree Fres''-no. Galisteo, a name Gah-lis-tay^-o. Garbanza, wild pea Gar-ban''-thali . Graciosa, graceful Grah-see-o'-sah. Guadalupe, a name Gwah-dah-loo^-pay. 228 Name. Meanine Pronnncfation. Hermosillo, little beauty Er-mo-seeK-yo. Isleta, little island ees-lay^-ta. La Canada, the valley, glen..Lah Cah-nah''-dah. Lagiina, lagoon, pond Lah-goC'-nah. La Joya, the jewel Lah Ho''-yah. La Junta, the junction Lah Hun^-tah, La Mesa, the table-land Lah May'-sah. La Punta, the point Lah Pun''-tah. Las Animas, souls in purga- tory Las Ah''-nee-mahs. Las Cruces, the crosses Las Crew''-ses. Las Flores, the flowers Las Flo''-res. Las Vegas, fertile fields Las Vay^-gahs. Lerdo, slow Ler''-do. Linda Vista, beautiful view . .Leen''-dah Vis''-tah. Loma Alta, high hill Lo''-mah AhK-tah. Loma Prieta, black hill Lo''-mah Pree-aMah, Los Alamitos, little cotton- woods Los Ah-lah-mee''-tos. Los Alamos, cotton wood trees Los Ah^-Iah-mos. Los Gatos, the cats Los Gah''-tos. Los Nietos, the grandchildren. Los Nee-a''-tos. Los Olivos, the olive trees. . . .Los o-lee''-vos. Madera, timber wood Mah-day''-rah. Manzana, apple Mahn-thah'-nah. Merced, mercy Mer-sed''. Mesa, table, table-land May'-sah. Mesa Encantada, enchanted land May^-sah En-kan-tah^-dah. Mesquite, tree of that name . .Mes-quee''-tay. Montecito, little hill Mon-tay-see''-to. Morro, tower or fortification. .Mor''-r6 (r strongly trilled). Naci6n, nation Nah-see-oil''. Nuevo, new Nway''-vo. Pajaro, bird Pah''-hah''-ro. 229 Name. Meaning. Pronunciation. Pampa, plain Pahm''-pah. Paso de Robles, pass of the oaks Pah''-s6 day Ro'-bles. Picacho, peak Pee-kah'-cho. Pinde, sweetened corn water. .Peen^-day. Plumas, feathers PIoo''-mahs. Presidio, garrison Pray-see^-dee-o. Pueblo, village Pway'-bio. Puente, bridge Pwen''-tay. Puerco, a hog, hence unclean. Pwer''-co. Punta Gorda, thick point. . . . Poon''-tah Gor^-dah. Purgatoire, Purgatorio, pur- gatory Poor-gah-to^-rio. Ranchito, small ranch Rahn-chee^-to. Raton, mouse Rah-ton''. Redondo, round Ray-don'-do. Rincon, corner Rin-kon'. Rio, river Ree''-o. Rivera, shore Ree-vay''-rah. Sacramento, sacrament Sah-krah-men''-to. Salinas, salt pits Sah-lee'-nahs. San Andres, St. Andrew ....Sahn Ahn-dres''. San Buena Ventura, St. Bon- aventure (good fortune) .... Sahn Bway'-nah ven-too'-rah. San Ciemente, St. Clement ..Sahn Klay-men''-tay. San Diego, St. James Sahn Dee-ay''-go. San Francisco, St. Francis. . .Sahn Fran-sees''-ko. San Jacinto, St. Hyacinth. . . .Sahn Hah-seen''-to. San Joaquin, St. Joachin Sahn Hwah-keen'. San Jose, St. Joseph Sahn Ho-say''. San Luis Obispo, St. Louis the bishop Sahn Loo-ees'' 0-bees''-p6. San Miguel, St. Michael . . . .Sahn Mee-geiK (hard g.) San Pablo, St. Paul Sahn Pah'-blu. San Pedro, St. Peter Sahn Pay^-dro. San Rafael, St. Raphael Sahn Rah-fah-elK. 230 Name. Meaning. Pronunciation. Santa Barbara, St. Barbara. .Sahn'-tah Bar''-bah-rah. Santa Catalina, St. Catherine. Sahn^-tah Cah-tah-lee''-nah. Santa Cruz, holy cross Sahn^-tah Krooss''. Santa Fe, holy faith Sahn'-tah Fay'. Santa Rosa, St. Rose Sahn'-tah Ro'-sah. Santa Ynez, St. Inez , Sahn'-tah E-ne'ss. Santa Isabel, St. Isabel Sahn'-tah E-sah-be!!'. Sauciiito, little willow Sau-see-lee'-t(3. Savana, vast plain (Sdbana) Sah'-bah-nah. Sierra, mountain chain See-er'-rah. Sierra Madre, mountain range literally mother range See-er'-rah mali'-dre. Sierra Nevada, snowy range (saw-tooth) See-er'-rah Nay-vah'dah. Soledad, solitude So-lay-dad' {d in Spanish has a peculiarly soft sound like th in the.) Tamalpais, Tamal Indians . .Tah-mahl-pais. Temecula, Indian name Tay-may-coo'-lah. Tia Juana, Aunt Jane Tee'-ah Hwah'-na. Valle, valley VahK-yay. Vallecito, little valley Vahl-yay-see'-to. Vallejo, small valley VahKyay'-ho, Ventura, luck Ven-too''-rah. Verde, green Ver'-day. Viejo, old . . . Vee-ay'-ho. Vista, view Vees'-tah. SJI UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA AT LOS ANGELES THE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY This book is DUE on the last date stamped below I mrb 1 1352 JUL 1 4 i^^t to* JAW 101^1 tlRI 4kHtO tm APR 1 4 1982 MAY07199C JUN 28 1993 m L-9 -1,M1(1122) ■JXUk IJrr^ .V:l F595 .H53t 1914 y L 009 537 695 UCSOIJTHCKM Qcr P595 H53t 1914 AA 001363 948 m hHfffp m "