2 THE MOUNTAINS OF CALIFORNIA 



forest-lined vistas to the sea ; others, with but few 

 trees, to the Central Valley; while a thousand others 

 yet smaller are embosomed and concealed in mild, 

 round-browed hills, each with its own climate, soil, 

 and productions. 



Making your way through the mazes of the Coast 

 Eange to the summit of any of the inner peaks or 

 passes opposite San. Francisco, in the clear spring 

 time, the grandest and most telling of all California 

 landscapes is outspread before you. At your feet 

 lies the great Central Valley glowing golden in the 

 sunshine, extending north and south farther than 

 the eye can reach, one smooth, flowery, lake-like bed 

 of fertile soil. Along its eastern margin rises the 

 mighty Sierra, miles in height, reposing like a 

 smooth, cumulous cloud in the sunny sky, and so 

 gloriously colored, and so luminous, it seems to be 

 not clothed with light, but wholly composed of it, 

 like the wall of some celestial city. Along the top, 

 and extending a good way down, you see a pale, 

 pearl-gray belt of snow ; and below it a belt of blue 

 and dark purple, marking the extension of the for 

 ests ; and along the base of the range a broad belt 

 of rose-purple and yellow, where lie the miner's gold- 

 fields and the foot-hill gardens. All these colored 

 belts blending smoothly make a wall of light inef 

 fably fine, and as beautiful as a rainbow, yet firm 

 as adamant. 



When I first enjoyed this superb view, one glow 

 ing April day, from the summit of the Pacheco Pass, 

 the Central Valley, but little trampled or plowed as 

 yet, was one furred, rich sheet of golden com- 

 positae, and the luminous wall of the mountains 



