here was also near by a collection
of Arizona plants in all their grotesque shapes, and a most interesting
group of hieroglyphic rocks brought from some mountain place, having on
them prehistoric inscriptions of lines and rude figures, suggesting the
Ogham records found in Ireland and other parts of Europe, usually
attributed to most primitive times.

It was my privilege to assist at the service at St. Paul's Church,
where the Bishop of Los Angeles preached. The unwinterish conditions of
this climate were well suggested by the out-of-door passage of choir
and clergy from the choir-room to the church. The service was well
rendered by a choir of men and boys. In the evening it was my lot to
preach. It was delightful to join in the worship of the Church, and to
be as much at home among brethren on the shores of the Pacific as if we
were thousands of miles away, on the other side of the continent, near
another sea. We spent our next day at Los Angeles and neighborhood in
democratic fashion, going by street and electric cars in various
directions. We went out to Pasadena, where a Chicago friend gave us a
pressing invitation to stay over and visit his villa built on the old
Spanish model. His kind hospitality, so hearty and unexpected, we could
not accept. We had, like most tourists, to press on. Now California, of
all places, is a region to tarry in. It is too huge, too complicated,
too strange to be done in a flying visit, although a flying visit is
well worth having. The clear atmosphere makes you imagine you could
take an easy stroll over to the mountains, but a day would not suffice
to reach them. You think you have exhausted some place or other, but
you find that you have only skimmed over the surface.

We left Los Angeles with regret in the afternoon of our third day
there. We were sorry to leave our pretty garden anchorage, where we had
for a near neighbor the distinguished Madam Melba, travelling on a
concert tour in her private car. The diva had quite a suite in
attendance. The only music that we heard from its sacred interior was
from her colored _chef_, who, while his mistress was on the concert
stage, made the garden, where we were wandering about in the moonlight,
vocal with her piano and his by no means unmelodious voice. There was a
touch of the comic in this sentimental proceeding quite irresistible.

Our memory of Los Angeles and the whole _entourage_ of that garden
spot will always be a vision of palms an