The Father of Trout Streams 299 



pie varies. I see one of these trees every day 

 in Pasadena, California; a young one not over 

 fifty feet in height, yet few people would pass 

 it by without turning to look at it again. There 

 is no other tree like it. Its trunk, round, grows 

 directly upward, large, firm, imposing for the 

 amount of foliage, but the message that it car- 

 ries is strength, vitality, something built to with- 

 stand the fires and storms of centuries. It is 

 as though the Washington or Bunker Hill monu- 

 ment should throw out foliage and become a 

 tree. 



The trees of the Mariposa forest are disap- 

 pointing to some. They do not seem so large at 

 first, but day by day they grow on the stroller, 

 and at the end of two or three weeks the idea 

 has entered his mind that here is something 

 stupendous, something left behind in the race 

 of time and eternity. The lofty pillars grow 

 into the mind. There is a majesty or beauty 

 to them that takes entire possession of one, and 

 you return again and again, and hunt for new 

 and different points of view. They stand among 

 other trees in a perfect park, the beauty of which 

 cannot fully be described. One is impressed 

 with the lack of verdure and the small leaves 

 for so large a tree foliage that often appears 

 more like a green haze or a " mist of pale apple- 

 green." Why these trees are found here, and 

 nowhere else, is due, doubtless, to the equable 



