of the mountain for some distance we came to a
dimly marked trail, leading to the left. The "Major Domo" of our party
said that this road led to Doane's Valley, and that we must go down it.
It was a straight up and down road, with exceedingly abrupt pitches, in
places damp and slippery, and covered with fallen leaves. At the bottom
of the descent, which it would have been impossible to retrace, we came
to a small stream. Directly in the only place where we could have
crossed it a log stuck up, which rendered passage impossible. After a
deal of prodding and hauling, we dislodged it and safely made the ford.

Doane's Valley is one of those beauty spots which abound in the
mountains of California. Its floor is a beautiful meadow, in which are
innumerable springs. Surrounding this meadow is heavy timber, oaks,
pines and giant cedars. Pauma Creek flows out of this meadow through a
narrow gorge, which nature evidently intended should some day be closed
with a dam to make of the valley a reservoir to conserve the winter
waters. We followed a partially destroyed road through the meadow to its
upper end. Then as high and dry land was within sight we attempted to
cross a small, damp, but uncertain looking waterway.

Wheels Stuck.

The front wheels passed safely, but when the rear wheels struck it they
went into the mud until springs and axles rested on the ground. Two full
hours we labored before we left that mud hole. We gathered up timbers
and old bridge material, then jacked up one wheel a little way, and got
something under it to hold it there. The other side was treated the same
way. By repeating the operation many times we got the wheels high enough
to run some timbers crosswise beneath them. We put other timbers in
front and pulled out.

We soon reached Bailey's Hotel, a summer resort of considerable
popularity. We continued up the grade until we came onto the main road
left by us when we descended into Doane's Valley. We got up many more
pigeons, graceful birds, which the Legislature of our State should
protect before they are exterminated. We moved on through heavily
timber-covered hills, up and down grade, and finally came out on the
south side of the mountain overlooking the canyon, some 5000 feet deep,
at the bottom of which ran the San Luis Rey River. What would have been
a most beautiful scene was marred by a fog which had drifted up the
canyon. But the cloud effect was marvelous. We were above the clouds. A
mo