DIARY AND NOTES 347 



should not care to live there. Peculiar are the color 

 changes of these mountains, which appear sometimes 

 grey, then red, yellow, violet and green in the oddest pos- 

 sible mixtures. It strikes me that the Titans must have 

 had among them an artist, who tried his color mixtures 

 and new brushes on these rocky walls. Again a change 

 as we approach the Bay of Santa Maria, which forms a 

 crescent of low sandstone hills, until Cape San Lazaro 

 shows its height of fifteen hundred feet, backed by a 

 chain of rocks and volcanic mountains. Here, as else- 

 where on the coast of Lower California, not enough vege- 

 tation to raise a cow on nor enough wood with which to 

 cook a pot of coffee. 



Sunday, the 22d. This is our twelfth day from Pan- 

 ama. We are speeding along with Cape Abrojos in sight, 

 while approaching Cape San Koque, which resembles a 

 mighty heap of grey, yellow and reddish ashes, and sug- 

 gests to me that the same Titanic painter must have 

 emptied his pipe after his work was done. Nowhere was 

 there even a weed to be seen. As is the custom on most 

 American and English vessels, there has been what they 

 are pleased to call "Divine Service" in the cabin. 



We have had a very high sea all day, which is the rea- 

 son that the ship was kept closer to the shore than usual 

 to protect the immense cargo we took on at Panama. 

 There is no change in the desolate scenery, as we pass 

 the large Cerros Island late in the evening. 



Monday passed quietly, the air grew colder and I ac- 

 tually had to take out my overcoat toward evening. The 

 company's steamer "Colorado," fifty-two hours from San 

 Francisco, came within speaking distance. 



Tuesday morning brings us to an old acquaintance, San 

 Clemente Island, some fifty miles south of San Pedro. 

 Hurrah for the Stars and Stripes which greet us from the 

 nearby shore. And at still greater distance the progress- 

 ive town of Los Angeles with many a good friend within. 

 Onward we speed and the next day brings me face to face 

 with the dear old "Orizaba" and her well known crew; 

 she had been twenty-four hours at sea on her trip from 

 San Francisco to San Pedro. 



