XI 



THE SAN GABRIEL MOUNTAINS^ 



After saying so much for human culture in 

 my last, perhaps I may now be allowed a word 

 for wildness — the wildness of this southland, 

 pure and untamable as the sea. 



In the mountains of San Gabriel, overlook- 

 ing the lowland vines and fruit groves, Mother 

 Nature is most ruggedly, thomily savage. Not 

 even in the Sierra have I ever made the ac- 

 quaintance of mountains more rigidly inac- 

 cessible. The slopes are exceptionally steep 

 and insecure to the foot of the explorer, how- 

 ever great his strength or skill may be, but 

 thorny chaparral constitutes their chief de- 

 fense. With the exception of Uttle park and 

 garden spots not visible in comprehensive 

 views, the entire surface is covered with it, 

 from the highest peaks to the plain. It swoops 

 into every hollow and swells over every ridge, 

 gracefully complying with the varied topog- 

 raphy, in shaggy, ungovernable exuberance, 

 fairly dwarfing the utmost efforts of human 

 culture out of sight and mind. 



^ Letter written during the first week of September, 1877. 

 [Editor.] , 



145 



