y the varied beauties of the
scene. Wandering through these sylvan glades, the eye is continually
charmed with the rare combinations of natural and artificial beauties
scattered around in every direction with such wonderful prodigality.
At one moment you imagine yourself in a wilderness, hundreds of miles
from any human habitation, so dense are the shades of the grand old
forest-trees, and so wild and rugged the moss-covered rocks; a few
steps bring you suddenly upon some fairy scene, where palaces and
temples, gilded carriages, gayly-dressed companies of ladies and
gentlemen, and groups of children sporting upon the grass, dispel the
illusion. Ascending to the highest points by the narrow and tortuous
by-paths, I could almost fancy myself in the midst of the Coast Range,
so perfect was the isolation; then coming out suddenly upon some
projecting cliff, the change of scene from rugged grandeur to the
perfection of civilization was absolutely magical. Vegetation in this
northern region, where the summer are so short and warm, flourishes
with an almost tropical luxuriance. The melting of the snows in
spring, followed by heavy rains and sudden heat, causes the earth to
give forth its products with a prodigality that compensates in some
degree for the long and dreary winters. Trees burst into leaf as if by
magic; flowers shoot up and bloom in a few weeks; the grass, enriched
by the snows, springs forth and covers the earth like a gorgeous
carpet of velvet. All nature rejoices in the coming of the long summer
days. The birds sing in the groves; the bees hum merrily around the
flowers; the gay butterflies flit through the sunbeams; and day and
night are an almost continued period of revelry for all those
beautiful and ephemeral creatures that droop and die with the flowers.
I have nowhere seen such a profusion of intensely rich green and such
wonderfully deep shades as in the neighborhood of Stockholm. It is
almost oppressive to one accustomed to California scenery, where the
whole face of the country wears a dry red-and-yellowish hue in summer.
Strange how one's tastes change by association! I well remember when I
first entered the Golden Gate, in August, 1849, after a long and
dreary voyage round Cape Horn. Glad as I was to see land once more, it
struck me that I had never looked upon so barren and desolate a
country. The hill-sides had the appearance of parched and sodless
deserts. Yet I soon learned to like that warm glow.