/n the Santa Clara. 279 



were doomed to some disappointment. The authorities of the narrow- 

 gauge railway, or some of them at least, had promised us to make a stop at 

 the redwood forest, that we might see the wonders ; but, up to the present 

 date, that promise has not been fulfilled. We were driven right through, 

 and had to catch such glimpses as we could of the big trees of the mountains. 

 The better part of the grove was so situated that we could not see it from 

 the train ; and of the rest you can, of course, have no more than a glance as 

 the train rushes along, whirling around knobs and diving into tunnels. Of 

 the latter I may say, as a matter of interest, that there are two on this little 

 road from Santa Cruz to San Jose that are each more than a mile in length 

 It was after debouching into the valley on the other side that we passed The 

 Cats already referred to on a preceding page. On coming to San Jos^ some 

 straggling and unadventurous members of our company were taken up ; and 

 then we whirled on toward Oakland, where another grand banquet and re- 

 ception had been planned for the Society. 



As we passed on our way thither, a short distance north of Santa Clara, 

 a sudden movement of the passengers to the right-hand side of the coaches 

 indicated that something unusual had appeared in the horizon. Indeed, it 

 was something unusual. There, at the distance of six or eight miles, were 

 the foot-hills, and, beyond, the more aspiring elevation of the Coast Range 

 of mountains. Above all the heights in this part of the chain, there stood 

 old Mount Hamilton ; and on its clearly defined summit, scalped somewhat 

 and flattened for the purpose, was seen the sharp outline of a structure reared 

 by man. It was a building, square and long, and low toward the southern 

 extremity, but rising at the northern end into a dome of perfect regularity 

 and beauty. Everything was sharp and fine and shining in the morning 

 light. Why should I name this famous structure, known already in the 

 annals of mankind ? Everywhere on this mundane sphere, where the heav- 

 ens are seen above by the intelligent eye of man, there the fame and pros- 

 pective renown of the Lick Observatory have already extended. And the 

 day comes, my reader, when the huge Patagonians, bounding among the 

 rocks of the Land of Fire ; when the black villagers now drinking out of 

 their ivory cups in their huts above the falls of the Congo; when the sav- 

 ages who dash in reckless nakedness out of th» forest to plunge into the 

 waters of the Victoria N'yanza ; when the swarthy folk who beat down the 

 three-cornered pods from the cocoa trees in the groves of Ceylon, will gather 

 with eager haste into their academies of science to hear the reports of their 

 secretaries concerning the latest revelations of the great equatorial on old 

 Mount Hamilton. 



Think of this, my friends. Only a quarter of a century ago it was 

 believed and taught by scientific men that the limits of our knowledge 

 of the heavens had been almost reached — that the peculiarities of the at- 

 mospheric enveloi^e of th^ earth, and the difficulties insuperable in the 

 nature of the material substances out of which telescopic apparatus must 

 be constructed, had established an everlasting barrier against the further 



