, like a bridal robe adorned with jewels, with the
rising sun kissing each separate fold into glowing splendor; mountains
whose rugged summits rise far above the timber line, somber and
imposing, with fleecy clouds floating round the rocky pinnacles like
fine spun silver.

Mount Tamalpais is not so lofty as Pike's Peak, or Mount Hood, but
what it loses in altitude it makes up in splendor, and a trip to its
summit, over the crookedest railroad in the world, offers a view that
is unsurpassed.

Leaving the ferry building, we have a delightful ride on the bay,
passing close to Alcatraz Island, where the military prison is
located, with a view of Fort Point and Fort Baker, passing near the
United States Quarantine Station on Angel Island, and arrive at
Sausalito, perched on the hillside like some hamlet on the Rhine; then
by rail to Mill Valley, a beautiful little town nestling at the foot
of the mountain like a Swiss village. Here we change to the
observation train drawn by a mountain-climbing traction engine, and
begin the climb. The ascent is a gradual one, the steepest grade being
a trifle over seven per cent, while the train twists and turns around
two hundred and sixty curves from the base to the summit. We enter a
forest of the giant redwoods, which, enormous in girth, and three
hundred feet high, have defied the elements for thousands of years.
Crossing a canon filled with madrones, oaks, and laurels, we look down
upon a panorama of exceeding beauty. At a certain point the train
seems about to jump off into space, but it makes a sharp curve around
a jutting cliff on the edge of the canon, and a broader view bursts
upon us, a view unparalleled for its magnificence.

[Illustration: MOUNT TAMALPAIS]

About half way up we reach the double bowknot, where the road
parallels itself five times in a short distance, and where one can
change cars and go down the other side of the mountain to Muir Woods.
We stay by the train, and toil upward, over Slide Gulch, through
McKinley Cut, and at last, with aching but beauty-filled eyes, we
reach the summit. From the top of most mountains surrounding peaks
shut off the view to some extent, but from the summit of Mount
Tamalpais there is an unbroken view. Rising as it does almost from the
shores of the bay, there are miles and miles of uninterrupted view.
Far below us the ocean and the bay shimmer like a mirror, and majestic
ocean liners, outward bound, look like toy boats. To the l