s and brought up the water that made the whole country the fertile,
grain-growing region it evidently was. We ate supper at the McFarland
Hotel some twenty-five miles from Bakersfield. Our Wisconsin hostess who
talked with us while her Japanese cook prepared our supper told us that
three years ago there were only a few people living in tents in this
region. Now the wells are down and there is a prosperous little town,
the water being found only thirty feet below the surface. We came on
through more fields of ripe wheat and green alfalfa. We saw one
settler's tent pitched in the midst of a beautiful almond orchard, with
great stacks of alfalfa near by. His wellhouse was near, and some day in
the golden future he will undoubtedly build his dwelling.

Eleven miles from Tulare a tall country boy came out from the shadows as
we passed through a little village and asked if he might ride to Tulare
with us. We tucked away his bulky newspaper bundle in the machine and
gave him permission to sit on the tool box, which was fastened on the
running-board. He thanked us warmly when we reached the quiet streets of
Tulare and offered to pay us, but of course we assured him that we were
glad to have given him a lift. We did not often do this as we were
always afraid some one would be hurt in riding on the running-board. We
had a comfortable room at the Hotel St. Maxon, and drove on the next day
through the fertile valley to Fresno. Now we were in the region of rich
vineyards and luxuriant fig trees. For the first time, as we approached
Fresno, I saw whole orchards of fig trees. Fresno is a pretty town with
the wide, bright streets and look of prosperity of so many California
towns. It is the home of several thousand Armenian and Greek workers.
Only that morning the Young Women's Christian Association had welcomed
to Fresno a little woman who had come all the way from Constantinople to
meet her husband. The town pays the price for being the seat of the
raisin industry by being very hot in summer.

[Illustration: 1. Old Grizzly, Mariposa Big Trees. 2. Old Sunset,
Mariposa Big Trees.]

From Fresno we drove across somewhat uninteresting country, rolling and
solitary, diversified only by grain fields and stacks of alfalfa, to
Madera. At Madera we turned our faces toward the high Sierras, going on
to Raymond with a view to driving over the mountain road to Wawona, one
of the gates of the Yosemite and very near to the famous Mariposa Grove
o