core in number,
the loftiest of which is entitled Starr King, after the late clergyman
of that name, and is five thousand six hundred feet in height. But the
Three Brothers, with an average height of less than four thousand feet,
and Sentinel Dome, measuring four thousand five hundred feet high, seem
to the casual observer to be quite as prominent, while El Capitan, which
is about three thousand three hundred feet in height, appears from its
more favorable position to be the most striking and effective of them
all. Eleven water-falls of greater or less magnitude come tumbling into
the valley, adding to the picturesqueness of the scene. Of these several
falls, that which is known as the Bridal Veil will be sure to strike
the stranger as the finest, though not the loftiest. The constant
moisture and the vertical rays of the sun carpet the level plain of the
valley with a bright and uniform verdure, through the midst of which
winds the swift-flowing Merced River, adding completeness to a scene of
rare and enchanting beauty.

It was not until so late as the year 1851 that the foot of a white man
ever trod the valley, which had for years proven the secure hiding-place
of marauding Indians. In their battles with the whites, the latter were
often surprised by the sudden disappearance of their foes, who vanished
mysteriously, leaving no traces behind them. On these occasions, as was
afterwards discovered, they fled to the almost inaccessible Yosemite
Valley. Betrayed at last by a treacherous member of their own tribe, the
Indians were surprised and nearly all destroyed. There is scarcely a
resident in the valley except those connected with the running of the
stages during the summer months, and those who are attached to the
hotel. It is quite inaccessible in winter. An encampment of native
Indians is generally to be seen in the warm months, located on the
river's bank, under the shade of a grove of tall trees; the river and
the forest afford these aborigines ample food. For winter use they store
a crop of acorns, which they dry, and grind into a nourishing flour.
They are a dirty, sad-looking race, far more repulsive in appearance
than the lowest type of Spanish gypsies one meets in Andalusia.

In returning from the Yosemite to San Francisco, let us do so by the
road leading through the Mariposa Grove of Big Trees. These forest
monarchs are situated in a thickly wooded glade hundreds of feet up the
slope of the Sierra. We find