attaching to El Capitan and the Half Dome. The former was the abode of the semi-deity of the valley-Totokonula -who supplied the earthly wants of its inhabitants. The South Dome was the dwelling of a supernatural winged maiden, a sea-nymph from the south, whose graceful form was ever partially enveloped in a floating cloud. She was known as Tesaiyac, or "Goddess of the Valley." Her beautiful-honestly-golden hair hung in long wavelets, and her eyes of heavenly blue heightened the charm of a lovely face. Sexual attraction has always been a weak point with the gods, and so Totokonula became quickly enamored of the sea-nymph's beauty, and, in his mad fascination, forgetful of those dependent upon him, followed the fair siren from crag to peak in vain pursuit. Deprived of his care, the inhabitants of the valley were menaced with many dangers; the waters wasted away, the herbage withered, the leaves dropped from the oaks, and the acorns ceased to grow. The people in their distress prayed in vain to their infatuated guardian until, eventually, Tesaiyac heard their cries, and, repenting of the evils she had caused them, disappeared from the South Dome forever. At that instant a terrible earthquake was felt, and the South Dome was rent in twain. Half of it disappeared entirely, and the cooling waters. from Lake Tenaya, which had previously emptied into the Tuolumne, filled the parched bed of the Merced, and refreshed the thirsty land. The song of babbling waters and the drooping willows' soft replies were again heard; the herbs revived, the oaks resumed their robes of green, the needed acorns reached a full fruition, and plenty and happiness once more filled the land.

The night was approaching its noon, the cliffs were wrapped in darkness, and the embers of the camp-fire were slowly dying away as the old Indian added that Tesaiyac, conquered at last by her admirer's devotion, lowered a cloud on which Totokonula mounted to the realms of the blest; and as the lovers departed the down from the maiden's wings was wafted hither and thither by the breeze, changing as it touched the earth into the little white

violets which are now scattered over the meadow.

The Indian's account of the creation of the world was also interesting, although it had about it a suspiciously Yankee flavor. "Coh-coh-mah, the Creative Spirit," he said, "made the world in a few days and rested; then He made the buffalo, deer, antelope, rabbit, and all the birds, and rested. He made the fishes and all creeping things, and rested; then with some aid from the Bad Spirit man was made, and another rest taken. Then He took a rib from the man, and after tinkering with it for a while He made wonan, and, the legend goes on to say, it was wise He rested well before creating woman, for He hasn't had any rest since.""

At the foot of all that is left of Tesaiyac's abode lies an enchanting sheet of water, aptly known as Mirror Lake, whose face of purest crystal returns so perfect a reflection of surrounding objects that it is at first sight difficult to distinguish the line where land and water meet. The blue sky and fleeting clouds, the green foliage on the trees, the mighty domes of rock, and lofty, fantastic crags have all their perfect reflex of form and color on the polished surface of the lake.

In close attendance stand Sentinel Dome and Sentinel Rock-a grand mass of granite 3,043 feet high, in the shape of an obelisk-the Three Graces, and those aptly-named twin and graceful pinnacles, Cathedral Spires, shooting into the air like minarets of some Gothic cathedral. At a period not very remote the spires were three in number, but one succumbed to the shock of an earthquake.

If, however, these eccentric masses of rock are magnificent in their cold. and stern sublimity, none the less impressive are the mighty, vibrating, falls of water which plunge, seething and foaming, over the perpendicular walls of the valley at different points. Few waterfalls in the world combine so many elements of grandeur and beauty as the Yosemite Fall. Its highly polished lip is some 2,600 feet above the base, and for the first 1,500 of these the water falls in an unbroken sheet; then for 626 feet it forms a series of

cascades, concluding with one final plunge of 400 feet, on to the rocks at the foot of the precipice, with a ceaseless roar. Of this cataract an American writer recently said: "To stand before that mighty fall, with its grand power and its beauty, and the half of the rainbow like a bright crown laid at its feet by the Almighty, beautifying and illuminating it, the tears came quick to my eyes, and I felt that I walked with God. When I came away it seemed as though I could never go there again, lest the effect should be lessened, but those with me said it grew upon them with each visit."

But, though the Yosemite, the Sentinel, the Nevada, and the Vernal Falls are all equally awe-inspiring in their reckless magnificence, and superior by far in height and volume to the most highly-vaunted cataracts of our European pilgrimages, the Bridal Veil Fall, close by the entrance to the valley, is undoubtedly far and away the most beautiful, as it leaps over the cliff beside Cathedral Rocks in one unbroken plunge of 630 feet, and then falls for another 300 feet in a series of cascades, hidden in wreathing, eddying, sparkling mists glimmering in rainbow tints. As the column of water sways from side to side and waves under the varying pressure of the wind, it seems to flutter like a white veil, producing an indescribably graceful effect. Its Indian name is Pohono, and to it is attached the following legend: "In ancient days, as one of the women of the tribe was gathering berries on the bank of the creek she slipped into its angry stream, and, being hurried down its rocky course, was carried over the brink and lost forever. Never after was she seen, or was aught heard of her. Apt at drawing supernatural conclusions, fear filled the Indian heart at this mishap. They dared no longer sleep in the vicinity of the cataract, nor in passing it would they loiter, for in their dread of the supernatural their excited imaginations always heard in the rustling leaves and descending water the plaintive warning of the lost maiden to beware of Pohono-Pohono, the Spirit of the Evil Wind."

By a pleasant road, across the green meadow-land, dotted with plants and

shrubs and flowers of every hue, by the gracefully fringed banks of the shimmering river-from 70 to 80 feet in width, and clear as crystal as it flows over its bed of granite sand-the air heavy with the fragrance of subtle odors, we pursued our way through the parklike valley to Cook's (uot he of Tourist fame) beautifully situated hotel, sandwiched between Eagle Peak (3,830 feet) and Sentinel Rock (3,070 feet). Two o'clock was sounding as we alighted, and all hands were soon busily engaged with brooms and switches removing the dust, which seemed like the accumulation of ages, with which everything was covered.

Luncheon over, we strolled through the small village of some dozen dwellings, inhabited mostly by hunters, and including one other hotel, under the shadow of mighty trees nearly 200 feet in height and 8 to 10 feet in diameter, to a quiet nook where a small party of nomadic Indians had pitched their picturesque camp. Their "wallies" or "wickieups," inade of branches of trees, covered over with skins, etc., were of the most primitive description; and although the deep copper hue of the redskins, with their large features, fleshy figures, and long, lank, black hair did not make up a very prepossessing ensemble, we found them most docile as well as preternaturally grave people. But if the general appearance of either men or women was not attractive, Nature had certainly compensated the latter by bestowing on them such delightfully musical voices as might well have been the envy of many a West End belle.

At first the women folk, more especially, seemed to entertain a wholesome dread of the white man, and, although eyeing us with evident curiosity at a distance, fled under cover like fiddler crabs at the merest approach to a friendly advance. Stiffened in a mummy-like robe, the papoose was slung handily at the back of the squaw, and slipped round to the breast whenever hungry. And marvellous babies they were-for they never cried, but stared with absurd gravity at the strangers through their weird little, black, beady eyes. Even the bigger children and the dogs wore a peculiarly wistful look,

as though they had prescience of the inevitable extinction of their race. Later on, however, we became wonderfully good friends with the nomads, and spent many a pleasant hour listening to the old men's weird tales of mythical romance, recited in rich and solemn tones.

Round our own comfortable log fire on the first evening of our stay we laid our plans of future operation, haggled with guides, and engaged our Mexican ponies for the term of our visit. We found as time went on that this foresight saved us a lot of trouble; and we adhered, with remarkable consistency throughout, to the programme we then drew up.

All the usual trips, to Register Rock -its old face scarred with inscriptions, dates, and names hailing from almost every quarter of the civilized worldGlacier Point, Cloud's Rest, the Merced Gorge, and the various other points of interest about the valley and its bulwarks, we duly made, but the ascent of the Half Dome is worthy of a special word. Of all the marvellous wonders which the mighty forces of Nature have wrought in this region, none presents so many imposing aspects as does this unique mass. No two views of it are alike, and yet from any standpoint it is incomparable-always the first and the last of the great white peaks to catch the traveller's eye. Much time has been spent in conjecturing how the wonderful Yosemite cleft was occasioned; whether it was washed out by the streams, or ground out by the ice mills of the glacial period, or whether the bottom fell out, and if so whither it fell, but no satisfactory conclusion has ever been reached. And so in the Half Dome we have a mighty tower, with a round and shapely dome of 1,000 feet smoothed and polished by the breath of ages, cleft in twain, and no trace left of the manner in which the fragments have been disposed of. Yet fancy still loves to linger round these mysteries, and each new spectator has his own particular theory.

The day was still very young as we galloped down the valley to the Half Dome trail, and, save for the tumbling of the waters, the song of the breeze among the trees, or the distant echo

ing crack of a hunter's rifle, no sound broke the morning solitude. The very footfalls of our ponies were hushed as they fell on the pine-cones carpeting the meadows, and not even the sound of a bird's song from the cool groves of the snow-water river or the clumps of graceful trees came to disturb the solemn and restful spirit of the place. First across an open glade green with herbage and bright with the blossoms of many flowers, then through closegrown woods, and the ascent commenced. The steep trail of glistening and slippery granite blocks, no more than three feet wide, compelled us to ride in single file, and zigzagged so sharply from side to side that the ponies on the turn above seemed frequently to be almost overhead; but they climbed with wonderful pluck and sureness of foot. Three hours had thus passed away when, through an opening in the trees, at a sudden turn in the road, we caught sight of a magnificent sheet of water, falling like a curtain for 400 feet, which proved to be the Vernal Fall. At the head of this cataract and near the foot of Nevada Fall stands Snow's Hotel, and here we dismounted.

Of all the falls of this favored district the Nevada is one of the best worth seeing, as, with the full volume of the Merced River, it dashes over the cliff 700 feet above, sending a dense volume of spray high in the sunlight, then rushing on through a narrow chasm out on to the smooth inclined rocks and down the Silver Chain into the Emerald Pool. Here the turbulent waters are quieted for a while, until they make their last calm and peaceful leap over the Vernal Fall into the cañon below. "Visiting the Yosemite and not going to the Nevada Fall," said one inhabitant of the valley, "is like going to the great Niagara and stopping at the bridge below.'

At Snow's we stayed long enough to rest and refresh our horses, then continued up the trail to the top of the Nevada Fall, and round the base of a stupendous and isolated mass of rock, nearly perpendicular on all sides, known as the Cap of Liberty. Here we turned out of the Merced Gorge into the Little Yosemite Valley, and by the side of

a small brook, the last water we were to see till the same spot was reached on our return, partook al fresco of the luncheon we had brought with us in our saddle-bags.

Our Mexican ponies took us to within 1,000 feet of the summit, the point at which most of the amateur climbers of the ancient abode of Tesaiyac finally stop. Comparatively few, we were assured, ever reached the flag staff. We had been duly warned before starting of the dangers attendant on the ascent of the rounded dome itself, and we had to confess, as we looked up at the almost perpendicular (about 80 degrees) smooth granite surface and the solitary rope to which we were to trust our lives, that it did look somewhat fearful.

The rope, of fifteen strands of a very strong fibre, was securely fastened at the top of the peak, and then fixed by iron cleats driven into the face of the rock at intervals of 100 feet. The ascent is effected by pulling one's self up this rope hand over hand, at the same time firmly gripping the granite face of the mountain with one's feet. Despite the assertion of guide-books that the ascent is "hazardous in the extreme," it is not a difficult feat provided one has a good head and can rely on one's fingers-for a moment's loss of power or self-control must mean inevitable destruction. Only two of us, Only two of us, however, essayed this final portion of the ascent-a Scotchman, bearing the truly Scottish name of Burns, and the writer-but I do not think either of us were sorry when we at last stood on the plateau beside the flag-staff. This plateau was some ten acres in extent, and surrounded on all sides, except that by which we had come, by apparently bottomless abysses, out of which the roaring of distant waters was the only sound that issued. No sign of life or vegetation was visible anywhere save away down in the Yosemite Valley, 5,000 feet below, but the panorama was nevertheless superb. Over intervening cañons and gorges the pale majestic Sierra peaks rose grandly desolate against the cloudless sky, and the bald granite rocks around us showed almost as white as the distant snow-capped heights beyond. On such a spot the

words of the American poet Stanley Wood seemed strangely appropriate : Yonder the mountains sinuously lie, As mighty silhouettes against the sky, And earnest souls can rev'rently define The granite writings of a hand Divine. For some twenty minutes we stood on this awe-inspiring spot, and then commenced the return journey. This had to be performed backward, so fully an hour and a half had elapsed before we again rejoined our friends and ponies.

The sun was getting very low when we once more reached Snow's, and by the time we entered the wood again we found it necessary to dismount and lead our ponies as best we could through the darkness, and many tumbles and bruises were ours before we emerged from the forest on to the floor of the valley.

As we cantered along the level ground a glorious harvest moon was shining, and tipped with silver the giant, ghost-like forms surrounding

us,

calling forcibly to mind Bret Harte's picturesque verse : Above the pines, the moon was slowly drift

ing,

The river sang below;
The dim Sierras far beyond uplifting

Their minarets of snow.

A smart gallop to finish, and we were again at the door of our hotel, having been some twelve hours in the saddle, pleased with ourselves and grateful for all the beauty and majestic grandeur we had seen.

As we sat a largely increased party -for the last time round the log-fire in the spacious hotel parlor news was brought in that the " up" coach had been held up," and booty to the extent of £400 secured by the highwaymen. The horses had then been turned adrift, leaving the travellers helpless by the roadside, while the robbers themselves took to the mountains. A sheriff's posse, we were informed, had started in pursuit as soon as the news arrived. Of course, we all felt very valiant, and numerous rash speculations were indulged in as to what we would do if we were treated so; but there was, nevertheless, an audible sigh of relief when mine host assured us that we, at any rate, were safe, for

66

nobody was foolish enough to think of holding up" people returning from the valley. It was a matter of common repute that the valley citizens. themselves had already relieved those tourists of all their surplus cash.

The valley was filled with morning shadows as we started on our return journey to the world of masks and junketings. Once more we galloped over the thick carpeting of brown fircones, through the noble pine aislesthe growth of centuries, and such as one never sees elsewhere-and past the grim, vast walls which dominate the valley. For the last time we lingered to hear the quiet music of the rippling Merced, to listen to the plaintive wail

of Pohono, and to gather the legendary down from Tesaiyac's wings. Much time was spent in these "last looks" on Nature at her brightest and her best, for every change of position presented some new charm of grimmest shadow or sweetest sunlight, some new ideal revealed in the real. But it was from Inspiration Point that we took our final farewell of the grand, serene, impassive Yosemite, and with hearts filled with the keenest emotions of the realms of Fancy and of Fact we once again regretfully turned to face the hackneyed scenes and severe prose of "civilization." Gentleman's Magazine.

IN a strange little village, somewhere in England, lived Prissy Emlet. People sometimes strayed very near her home, and strayed away again tired and hungry, longing for sign of human creatures, when all the time they had been looking right over the tops of a score of chimneys, old chimneys wrapped about with ivy and house-leek, whence, if the wind had lain aright, they might have savored frizzling bacon and eggs. Stomachs, braced by the keen air of the plain, and the fear of never smelling anything more substantial, would have been irresistibly drawn on by such means, in spite of the fact that there was naught but dun grass from their feet to the wind-hole; but if they had followed their noses they would certainly have heard something soon, a rusty pump braying, the thud of chopping, the crying of babes, or the crowing of cocks. Spurred by the sound, they would have at last won sight of a wisp of blue smoke arising from the ground, and so have lighted on Little Dinder, lying curled up like a field mouse in a hollow of the great green blanket, with pinfold, pump, church, and parsonage, springing up, with an inn and eighteen cottages to look after them, beside a rough chalk road, which a few miles back over the brow was but a faint track. And there was a tinkling stream, turning

up unabashed from nowhere, and frisking down the roadside as if it had been guiding the wanderer for miles past like a properly conducted watercourse. Weary men who found these things were often very irritated, and would vow that they had never seen such a place in their lives, and that it ought to have been marked on the map; they wanted to know how people could live in such a hole, and how they ever found their way into it or out of it. Then Prissy, as she slapped thick, salt, glistening rashers into the frying-pan, or raked together smouldering turves, would say: "Lor' bless 'ee, we'm able to get here right 'nough. We'd jess look at that tump," indicating with her fork a far-away clump of firs, like a pimple on the face of the plain.

But travellers, unless they were old, or blind, or bilious, looked not at the clump but at Prissy, for she was goodly to look at, sweetly slender, divinely tall, and generally half blinded by a drifted wisp of golden hair, which needed tucking under a thick net with a rounded arm. Nature the everyoung, Mistress of Arts, had taught her to look at one in a kind of accidental, dreamy manner, and to retire into herself as a down rabbit dives into his burrow. But her little ways were all her own; and when she looked at a man so, she did not know quite