342 THE MOUNTAINS OF CALIFORNIA 



miles out. Here were bahia, madia, madaria, bur- 

 rielia, chrysopsis, corethrogyne, grindelia, etc., 

 growing in close social congregations of various 

 shades of yellow, blending finely with the purples 

 of clarkia, orthocarpus, and cenothera, whose deli 

 cate petals were drinking the vital sunbeams with 

 out giving back any sparkling glow. 



Because so long a period of extreme drought 

 succeeds the rainy season, most of the vegetation 

 is composed of annuals, which spring up simultane 

 ously, and bloom together at about the same height 

 above the ground, the general surface being but 

 slightly ruffled by the taller phacelias, pentstemons, 

 and groups of Salvia carduacea, the king of the mints. 



Sauntering in any direction, hundreds of these 

 happy sun-plants brushed against my feet at every 

 step, and closed over them as if I were wading in 

 liquid gold. The air was sweet with fragrance, the 

 larks sang their blessed songs, rising on the wing as 

 I advanced, then sinking out of sight in the pol- 

 leny sod, while myriads of wild bees stirred the 

 lower air with their monotonous hum monoton 

 ous, yet forever fresh and sweet as every-day sun 

 shine. Hares and spermophiles showed themselves 

 in considerable numbers in shallow places, and 

 small bands of antelopes were almost constantly in 

 sight, gazing curiously from some slight elevation, 

 and then bounding swiftly away with unrivaled 

 grace of motion. Yet I could discover no crushed 

 flowers to mark their track, nor, indeed, any de 

 structive action of any wild foot or tooth whatever. 



The great yellow days circled by uncounted, 

 while I drifted toward the north, observing the 



