THE SAN GABRIEL MOUNTAINS 



dry channel of one of the tributary streams, 

 but, following it down a short distance, I de- 

 scried a few specimens of the scarlet mimulus; 

 and I was assured that water was near. I found 

 about a bucketful in a granite bowl, but it 

 was full of leaves and beetles, making a sort 

 of brown coffee that could be rendered avail- 

 able only by filtering it through sand and 

 charcoal. This I resolved to do in case the 

 night came on before I found better. Follow- 

 ing the channel a mile farther down to its con- 

 fluence with another, larger tributary, I found 

 a lot of boulder pools, clear as crystal, and 

 brimming full, linked together by little glis- 

 tening currents just strong enough to sing. 

 Flowers in full bloom adorned the banks, lilies 

 ten feet high, and luxuriant ferns arching over 

 one another in lavish abundance, while a noble 

 old live oak spread its rugged boughs over all, 

 forming one of the most perfect and most 

 secluded of Nature's gardens. Here I camped, 

 making my bed on smooth cobblestones. 



Next morning, pushing up the channel of 

 a tributary that takes its rise on Mount San 

 Antonio, I passed many lovely gardens watered 

 by oozing currentlets, every one of which had 

 lilies in them in the full pomp of bloom, and a 

 rich growth of ferns, chiefly woodwardias and 

 aspidiums and maidenhairs; but toward the 



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