he business almost as marked as that of his collie. He
has but a small flock to look after, sees his family and neighbors, has
time for reading in fine weather, and often carries books to the fields
with which he may converse with kings. The oriental shepherd, we read,
called his sheep by name; they knew his voice and followed him. The
flocks must have been small and easily managed, allowing piping on the
hills and ample leisure for reading and thinking. But whatever the
blessings of sheep-culture in other times and countries, the California
shepherd, as far as I've seen or heard, is never quite sane for any
considerable time. Of all Nature's voices baa is about all he hears.
Even the howls and ki-yis of coyotes might be blessings if well heard,
but he hears them only through a blur of mutton and wool, and they do
him no good.

The sick sheep are getting well, and the shepherd is discoursing on the
various poisons lurking in these high pastures--azalea, kalmia, alkali.
After crossing the North Fork of the Merced we turned to the left toward
Pilot Peak, and made a considerable ascent on a rocky, brush-covered
ridge to Brown's Flat, where for the first time since leaving the plains
the flock is enjoying plenty of green grass. Mr. Delaney intends to seek
a permanent camp somewhere in the neighborhood, to last several weeks.

Before noon we passed Bower Cave, a delightful marble palace, not dark
and dripping, but filled with sunshine, which pours into it through its
wide-open mouth facing the south. It has a fine, deep, clear little lake
with mossy banks embowered with broad-leaved maples, all under ground,
wholly unlike anything I have seen in the cave line even in Kentucky,
where a large part of the State is honeycombed with caves. This curious
specimen of subterranean scenery is located on a belt of marble that is
said to extend from the north end of the Range to the extreme south.
Many other caves occur on the belt, but none like this, as far as I have
learned, combining as it does sunny outdoor brightness and vegetation
with the crystalline beauty of the underworld. It is claimed by a
Frenchman, who has fenced and locked it, placed a boat on the lakelet
and seats on the mossy bank under the maple trees, and charges a dollar
admission fee. Being on one of the ways to the Yosemite Valley, a good
many tourists visit it during the travel months of summer, regarding it
as an interesting addition to their Yosemite wonders.