Back again to Sacramento, we met Mr. Charles Cummings, who gave us a general pass over the various stage routes of that portion of the State, and we at once went to Stockton by rail, where we took the stage for the celebrated Calevaros trees.  So stupendous appeared every tree upon the route, that a score of times we fancied ourselves nearing the world famed giants, but how did these monsters dwindle into comparative insignificance when we found the real grove.

After this tedious, tiresome stage ride, it was indeed a luxury to find ourselves safely ensconced in the large, elegant hotel in the midst of the Calevaros, the season being quite advanced, and in consequence the hotel less crowded.  This being one of the few places in the State in which we found cool water, we luxuriated in draught after draught of this crystal, ice-cold beverage, and no fabled fountain of rejuvenating power could have been more exhilarating.

Next morning, in eager anxiety, we took an early look at the great trees, all of which are named for some person of distinction.  We stood first beside General Grant, and, as Hattie laid her hand upon the side of the hero, she bade me start around him and see what a distance it would be to find her again.  When I was upon the opposite side I felt quite isolated and lonely, and when I regained her companionship it seemed to have been after a long separation.  We next took a reverent look at the “Mother of the Forest,” which is eighty-seven feet in circumference and four hundred feet in height, and we must confess that these proportions made her look quite like an Amazon.  The “Father of the Forest” was quite prostrate, his huge bulk, as he lay upon the ground, seeming that of a fallen hero.  Thus in the vegetable as in the animal world, the female has the greater power of endurance.  Man, in spite of his conceded superiority of physical strength and supposed mental supremacy, bows before the tornado of life, while woman ofttimes stands erect and fearless amid the storms and winds of years.

The heart of the Father had been bored out, and the hollow converted into a drive, admitting a horse and rider for eighty-seven feet, and allowing them room to turn and go back.  I had the pleasure of taking this novel ride, allowing my horse to be led.

Many of my readers have seen, and most of them have heard of the novel dancing-hall in the heart of one of these denizens of the forest, which admits four quadrilles upon its floors, and can imagine the romance of “tripping the light fantastic toe” amid such surroundings.  Another tree had been sawed into tablets, upon which each visitor left a name or record.  The day previous to our visit, a little boy of eight years old had visited the grove.  When his bright eyes rested for a time upon the tablet, his little fingers grasped a piece of chalk, and he readily wrote:  “And God said, let there be a Big Tree, and there was a Big Tree.”

We looked admiringly upon the “Twin Trees” named for Ingomar and Parthenia, and perhaps like these lovers of old, embodied “two hearts that beat as one.”  During our three days visit we left no tree unexamined, each one being fraught with individuality, and each in living language addressing our hearts in its own characteristic sentiment.