our eyes, and find everything
below curtained by a bank of snowy fog. As for myself, I enjoy the
prospect most when I cannot see it at all--that is, at night.

There is a varied interchange of signals between the mountains and the
valley. At noon the people here talk with their Pasadena friends by
gleaming flashlight. Then there are the reservoirs scattered over the
valley. In certain lights they are not seen at all, but in line with the
sun they send up great flash signals themselves, and just after sunset
they are always seen reflecting the calm twilight. An hour after sunset
our camp-fire is lighted. As we stand by it, the horizon seems to have
retired for the night. There is continuous sky, shading without a break
into the shadows below. Gazing dreamily down, I am startled by the
flashing forth of a hundred brilliant stars from what was the valley
below. They disappear for a moment and then blaze out and become a
permanent constellation. These stars are too numerous to resemble any
known constellation. I concluded after a little that the mighty Orion
had drawn his sword and slain the Great Bear; that the lion had rashly
interfered and his carcass had been dragged to that of the bear, and
that the exhausted Orion had thrown himself wearily upon them to rest.
And there are the Pleiades close by; with feminine curiosity they have
come as near as they dared, to see what it is all about.

Those wishing a scientific explanation of these phenomena must consult
the Pasadena Electric Lighting Company, except as to the stray Pleiades,
which seem to have some connection with the lights of the Raymond Hotel.

But what is that dim and curious meteor slowly moving toward the spot
where Los Angeles used to be? Perhaps it is the headlight which heralds
the coming of the belated overland train. Suddenly I see out of the
darkness beyond Pasadena the blazing forth of a majestic cross, of
wavering, uneven outline, but made up of crowded multitudes of
sparkling, glittering, scintillating stars. Los Angeles has
substantially the same system of street illumination as Pasadena.

You will note that I have abstained from hauling the sun above the
eastern Sierras in the morning, and from tucking it under the Pacific at
night. This rearrangement of ponderous constellations is all that my
strength and my other engagements will permit. Those who want to know
the glories of the sunset and moonlight must climb Mt. Wilson
themselves.

CH