W.L.  JEPSON,
in Silva of California.

JULY 15.

Huge live-oaks, silvered with a boar of lichen, stretched their boughs in fantastic frenzies.  Gray fringes of moss hung from them, and tangled screens of clematis and wild grape caught the sunlight in their flickering meshes or lay over mounds of foliage like a torn green veil. * * *

For nearly two miles the carriage drive wound upward through this sylvan solitude.  As it approached the house a background of emerald lawns shone through the interlacing branches, and brilliant bits of flower beds were set like pieces of mosaic between gray trunks.

GERALDINE BONNER,
in The Pioneer.

JULY 16.

The Yellow Pine is the most abundant and widely distributed tree of the forests of California and is particularly characteristic of the Sierra Nevada, where it attains its finest development.  The largest trees most commonly grow along the ridges and it is the ridges which the trails ordinarily follow.  Here the traveler may journey day after day, over needle-carpeted or grassy ground, mostly free of underbrush, amidst great clean shafts 40 to 150 feet high, of really massive proportions but giving a sense of lightness by reason of their color, symmetry, and great height.  No two trunks in detail of bark are modeled exactly alike, for each has its own particular finish; so it is that the eye never wearies of the fascination of the Yellow Pine but travels contentedly from trunk to trunk and wanders satisfyingly up and down their splendid columns—­the finest of any pine.

W.L.  JEPSON,
in Silva of California.

JULY 17.

MENDOCINO.

  A vast cathedral by the western sea,
  Whose spires God set in majesty on high,
  Peak after peak of forests to the sky,
  Blended in one vast roof of greenery. 
  The nave, a river broadening to the sea: 
  The aisles, deep canyons of eternal build;
  The transepts, valleys with God’s splendor filled;
  The shrines, white waterfalls in leaf-laced drapery;
  The choir stands westward by the sounding shore;
  The cliffs like beetling pipes set high in air;
  Roll from the beach the thunders crashing there;
  The high wind-voices chord the breakers’ roar;
  And wondrous harmonies of praise and prayer
  Swell to the forest altars evermore.

LILLIAN H. SHUEY,
in Among the Redwoods.

JULY 18.

They were passing an orange-grove, and they entered a road bordered with scarlet geraniums that wound for a mile through eucalyptus trees, past artificial lakes where mauve water-lilies floated in the sun, and boats languorously invited occupants.  Finally they came upon a smooth sward like that of an English park, embellished with huge date-palms, luxuriant magnolias, and regal banana-trees.  Then they passed a brook tumbling in artificial cascades between banks thick with mossy ferns, and bright with blossoms.  The children led their companion beneath fig and bay trees through an Italian garden; all of this splendid luxury of verdure had sprung from the desert as the result of a fortune patiently spent in irrigation.