CHAPTER XV 



HOW MAY I DO IT, TOO ; — GRAFTING 



XTE who is fortunate enough to stand some 

 -■-■- midsummer day on the summit of the 

 Macayamas, an inner spur of the great Coast 

 range, hard by the Pacific and skirting the 

 beautiful Sonoma valleyj will look out upon a 

 scene of surpassing interest. In the foreground 

 lies the fertile valley, with the fruit of its 

 hundreds of ranches ripening in the mellow 

 sunshine, pears and peaches, apricots and 

 apples, plums and prunes and cherries, with 

 here and there great vineyards heavy with 

 grapes, the whole broken in upon by wide 

 green fields of hops and broader stretches of 

 yellow wheat, with the reapers already at their 

 work. Through the valley flows the winding 

 Russian river, emptying at last through a pass 

 in the mountains into the Pacific at the point 

 where the Russians came down in the early 

 days and sought to fix their flag upon Spanish 

 soil ; while far through the distance, across the 



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