SCI Nli IN A MOUNTAIN HOTK1-. 
tance was only five or six miles, we expressed our ability to finish the journey on foot in far less 
time. The driver merely said, “perhaps so;” and soon we began the ascent of an almost per¬ 
pendicular mountain where every gentleman was compelled to walk, and for about four very long 
miles we ascended the Rattlesnake Mountain, and before reaching the top had given up all idea 
of boasting of our pedestrian abilities. 
Perhaps we may as well give a word of caution here, as anywhere, to those of our readers 
who contemplate a trip to California. Lime-stone, and consequently lime, seems to be scarce in 
the country, and the partition walls at most of the hotels in the mountains are made of white 
cotton cloth nailed to ordinary studding, and with a light in the neighboring bed-rooms often 
amusing shadows are cast upon these walls. Our engraving shows’a shadow picture that very 
much frightened us one night, not knowing 
but our neighbor in the adjoining room was 
taking poison or something of the kind. 
Refreshed, and satisfied with host and 
company and ourselves, after an early break¬ 
fast, a cheerful start was made for the Yo- 
semite — the great object of our travels 
almost reached — the wonderful Valley to be 
seen by our own eyes before they were again 
closed in sleep. Everybody was happy ; even 
the old lady who had insisted on the favorite 
seat with the driver for the whole route, and 
who seemed to delight in being miserable, 
gave some signs of warming up to the occa¬ 
sion. Forty miles would bring us to Gen¬ 
try’s, where the descent to the Valley com¬ 
mences, and eight more to HuTCHING’s 
Hotel, near the head of the Valley. This was considered a pretty long route for our teams, but as 
we would have to take saddle horses at Gentry’s for the descent of the mountain, we thought 
they could accomplish the forty miles, especially as they would have several days of rest while 
we were exploring the Valley. As there would be no time for dinner, however, we provided 
ourselves with luncheons. Having made about twenty miles over a country interesting but 
not particularly grand, we halted a season for luncheon in a shaded dell, through which ran a 
pleasant little stream, after which we began to ascend the mountains; for the hills had become 
mountains and the shrubs had become mammoth trees — Sugar Pines ( Pinus Lamberliana), ten 
feet in diameter, and often two hundred feet in height; Yellow Pines ( Pinus ponderosa)\ 
Douglas Firs ( Abies Douglasii), and other trees almost as large, and not thickly set, as in our 
woods, but standing as if planted by the Great Landscape Gardener for a mammoth park. In 
the distance, piercing the clouds, the snow-covered peaks of the Sierras lifted their venerable 
heads. For miles we enjoyed a scene of grandeur and beauty, the like of which we never 
before beheld, nor do we think the world can equal. 
After a brief halt at IIodgin’s, a place of refreshment, we continued our journey, and in two 
or three miles passed through the Tuolumne grove of mammoth trees. There are about thirty 
in this group, and some of them very fine specimens. In about an hour after leaving IIodgin’s 
we arrived at Crane’s Flats, where a little mountain hotel is kept by Mrs. Gohin, and here we 
were so near the clouds that our further progress was obstructed by banks of snow. We were 
eight miles from the edge of the valley, and here we were compelled to remain until saddle 
horses and pack mules could be sent from the valley to carry us and our baggage over the moun¬ 
tains of snow. The accommodations were not equal to a first-class hotel, but the good landlady 
apologised for the scantiness of her larder, stating that she had only just opened for the season, 
and her cows had not yet been driven up the mountain, and the chickens were coming with the 
cows, and the house had tumbled down on account of the weight of snow the past winter, and 
in the fall of the house the furniture had been destroyed or badly injured; and the accommoda¬ 
tions were truly meagre. We were all, however, disposed to be happy, and one Boston gentle¬ 
man suggested that next winter the chairs should be hung upon the trees, and the house buried. 
!) 
