y knew their business, and were as careful of
themselves as if we were not in existence. The ever-increasing panorama
of the mountains was full of interest. The great, swelling foothills
were yielding and soft-looking in their brown outline, dotted over by
huge, woolly-looking, dark green live-oaks and other trees. The whole
effect was like a gigantic piece of old Flemish tapestry. If some giant
horsemen with winding horns and bounding dogs of like vast scale, and a
stag with antlers touching the mountain-tops, and a castle like
Walhalla were in our vision, the thing would have been the ancient
tapestry, indeed, in true Californian proportions. It was all beautiful
as it was, the mossy brown of the mountains, and the dark green of the
trees, and over all a cloudless sky, and in our lungs the clear, pure
air, full of elation and vigorous life.

Of course in such a mountain drive we changed horses frequently, and
at Smith Creek we made a long halt for supper. It seemed that that
much-desired meal would never arrive, and the fear that we would miss
the sunset view from the summit, added to our impatience. It so
happened that there was a rush of visitors that day, and we had to wait
our turn while the limited domestic force in this isolated spot,
renewed their labors in cooking and serving another meal.

The perfect imperturbability of our host was a thing to admire. No
amount of muttered discontent moved him a particle. He did not show
impatience even, when we lined up at the dining-room door; by this
action, and the rush which it intimated, suggesting that we felt he
might come some game upon us, and let some more favored ones in first.
When we did make the rush, and saw the well-filled tables, and saw also
the patient wife and daughter, neither of them over-robust, who had to
do all the work, no "help" wishing to stay up there, we almost felt
ashamed of ourselves for our grumbling.

We soon got through our eating, and once more were _en route_ for
the summit. We got there before sunset all right, and were received in
most hospitable fashion by Professor Schaeberle, who showed us through
the long halls and into the library, where transparencies and
photographs of eclipses and double stars, and various other celestial
phenomena charmed us, until at last it was announced that the royal
presence of the sun was about to sink to its rest, in the distant west.
Then all were soon out on the grand terrace, and as we watched the