alley to see the
Bridal Veil rainbows or up the river canyon to see those of the Vernal
Fall; where, standing in the spray, not minding getting drenched,
you may see what are called round rainbows, when the two ends of the
ordinary bow are lengthened and meet at your feet, forming a complete
circle which is broken and united again and again as determined by the
varying wafts of spray. A few ambitious scramblers climb to the top of
the Sentinel Rock, others walk or ride down the Valley and up to the
once-famous Inspiration Point for a last grand view; while a good many
appreciative tourists, who slave only day or two, do no climbing or
riding but spend their time sauntering on the meadows by the river,
watching the falls, and the relay of light and shade among the rocks
from morning to night, perhaps gaining more than those who make haste up
the trails in large noisy parties. Those who have unlimited time find
something worth while all the year round on every accessible part of the
vast deeply sculptured walls. At least so I have found it after making
the Valley my home for years.

Here are a few specimens selected from my own short trips which walkers
may find useful.

One, up the river canyon, across the bridge between the Vernal and
Nevada Falls, through chaparral beds and boulders to the shoulder of
Half Dome, along the top of the shoulder to the dome itself, down by a
crumbling slot gully and close along the base of the tremendous split
front (the most awfully impressive, sheer, precipice view I ever found
in all my canyon wanderings), thence up the east shoulder and along the
ridge to Clouds' Rest--a glorious sunset--then a grand starry run back
home to my cabin; down through the junipers, down through the firs, now
in black shadows, now in white light, past roaring Nevada and Vernal,
flowering ghost-like beneath their huge frowning cliffs; down the dark,
gloomy canyon, through the pines of the Valley, dreamily murmuring in
their calm, breezy sleep--a fine wild little excursion for good legs
and good eyes--so much sun-, moon- and star-shine in it, and sublime,
up-and-down rhythmical, glacial topography.

Another, to the head of Yosemite Fall by Indian Canyon; thence up the
Yosemite Creek, tracing it all the way to its highest sources back of
Mount Hoffman, then a wide sweep around the head of its dome-paved
basin, passing its many little lakes and bogs, gardens and groves,
trilling, warbling rills, and back by t