re of bronze. Open lawns are characteristic settings for
the beautiful houses which line the avenue. There are many houses of
white or yellow stucco, some of them set off by delicate iron balconies.
Leaving the finished beauty of Orange Avenue we drove over a great
canyon across which is flung a very ornamental bridge. The canyon has
been turned into a park, and fine houses stand on its banks, commanding
from their heights wonderful views.

We came on through Burbank and once more into the San Fernando Valley,
just being opened up. Here and there were tiny houses and sometimes
tents, the first shelters of settlers who were cultivating their newly
acquired patches of land. We saw people cleaning and plowing their land.
Off to the right were beautiful mountains with houses and ranches
nestled in the foothills. We drove through the new town of San Fernando
and over the fine highway of the Newhall grade, passing through a tunnel
and going on to Saugus by a splendid road running all the way from
Pasadena. Just after leaving San Fernando we came through Sylmar, where
a big sign told us that we were passing "the largest olive orchard in
the world." This is the property of the Los Angeles Olive Growers'
Association. We drove for more than a mile past the ranks of grey-green
trees which stretched away back to the foothills.

From Saugus we turned toward Mint Canyon. We were now about to cross the
great backbone of California, running north and south and dividing the
valleys of the coast from the valleys of the interior. We could have
crossed by the Tehachapi Pass, but preferred for this time to drive
through Mint Canyon and over the Tejon Pass. All along the Canyon we
saw little homesteads planted in pocket valleys. Here and there were
green spots; orchards newly set out, patches of grain beginning to grow.
Little wooden shacks showed where the homesteaders had first sheltered
their household goods. The settlers themselves were working in their
fields and orchards. There were long stretches, too, of rough country
where tall yuccas, sometimes ten feet high, were blooming. At Palmdale
we came out into a great plain, the mountains in the distance. A high
wind was blowing, filling our eyes with dust. Somewhere on the plain the
searching wind whipped my lightweight motor coat out of the tonneau
where I had stowed it and I saw it no more. It was literally blown out
of sight and knowledge. We had seen all along advertisements of
"Palm