heat was intense and the car crowded with excursionists. I shall never forget the strange effect of this arctic vision in the midst of tropical surroundings. As my fascinated gaze rested on the central figure of Mount Shasta, a sense of supernatural influence seemed to emanate from its pallid surface, and so possessed my imagination. that I was never able to divest myself of the feeling as long as I remained within the sweep of its comprehensive brow. I understood then why the Indians held it in reverence and never desecrated its sacred solitude by sound of warfare or hunter's chase.

A cloud of dust and cinders drove us inside the car, where we utilized our hats for fans, exchanged places at the water-tank, and vainly wished we weighed less, and that our clothing might have been metamorphosed with the climate when we finally escaped the sinuous arms of the bay.

"This is the very worst time for you to come up here, Kate," said Hal regretfully. "I always intended you should visit us in May or October. Then the weather is delightful, and the changes in the woods are much the same as those in dear old Wisconsin. Many of the trees, flowers, and grasses that grow around Shasta are identical with those that surrounded us when we were children. I never see one such reminder that I do not long for you to share it with me." .

My sympathetic answer was cut short by the brakeman calling out "Cottonwood," and gathering up our satchels we hurried out, glad of the opportunity to shake off the dust and generally refresh ourselves at the hotel.

After an early supper, some friends of Hal's suggested that we should ride out with them as it was then the pleasantest part of the day. We gladly acquiesced, and soon were driving over the finest kind of roads, behind a dashing pair of bays. The little town is charmingly situated, within a half mile of Cottonwood Creek, which hunts the

Sacramento River through a wide valley, now russet with unharvested fields, and dotted irregularly with great oaks that made. rings of cooling shade in the midst of the yellow grain. The sun for a few moments seemed to glare more fiercely at the prospect of his enforced retreat behind the head of Yallo Balley. Later his brilliant blaze was slowly displaced by faint shadows that purpled Shasta's roseate cone and Lassen's frosty buttes, and then spread down the mountains' sides, and took up their march across the plain.

"We must show you the ruins of Major Pearson B. Reading's homestead. That was a man to know!" And the Doctor's voice indicated that he had once enjoyed the privilege, and felt all an old pioneer's pride and pleasure in recalling the circumstance. "The Major was the first white settler in Shasta County. It was in '45 that he built the old homestead over there near the junction of Cottonwood Creek with the Sacramento River. Many a houseless immigrant remembers with gratitude the cheer he received within its hospitable walls. You will find all over the State those who treasure up as cherished mementoes his helpful words and deeds. The Major owned all this country once; for the original Reading grant embraced more than twentysix thousand acres of choice, well watered land. You see it now all cut up into farms and orchards; but then it was one unbroken pasture for his immense herds of cattle. I remember he told me that in one day he had marked and branded seven hundred calves. Here is the old corral," stopping the horses before a dilapidated adobe wall that had received modern improvements at various stages of decay. "Once

I arrived here just in time to see Joaquin Miller, then but a stripling, mounted on a spirited horse, his long, auburn hair waving like corn-silk in the wind, and his right arm dexterously swinging a riata, which, a moment later had fastened its coils around the

horns of a bellowing young bullock. never saw Sam Neal do a neater piece of lassoing. The animal was the pick of the herd, and promised by the Major as a feast to the Indians who accompanied the poet." We found the Doctor's reminiscences vastly entertaining. Beyond the corrals were tumbling walls of sun-dried brick of Indian manufacture. Scarcely a vestige remained of the old-time comforts that had once made the Reading homestead famous for miles around. A few gnarled apple trees hooked their hungry branches in the falling roof. Below, in a secluded hollow, some better trees were loaded with ripening fruit, and still farther off we could hear the meeting of the three rivers through the pleasant rustle of the cottonwood trees on their border, and catch a silvery gleam of their waters through the branches.

"My old friend is buried near here," continued the Doctor softly. "I will drive over to his grave if you would like to see it." And as we urged him to do so, he turned the horses off the road across a blackened stubble-field, where a recent

We were too much in sympathy with the feelings of this stanch old comrade to break his revery, and for some time nothing was said as we drove along through the moon

THE OLD READING HOMESTEAD.

of acres of grain.

Bloody Is

We were directly opposite land," which is formed by Battle Creek on one side, and the Sacramento River on the other. On this little island, some forty years ago, General Fremont had his well remembered conflict with a tribe of Diggers, many of whom were slain and the rest forced to sign a treaty with the whites. Overlooking this picturesque spot some half a mile. above the rivers is a small knoll covered with manzanita and scrub oak. Under these are two graves marked by rude boards, on

Doctor roused himself, and went on in his pleasant way to tell us what places we should. visit around his beloved home.

"There is the Shingletown district. You should see the orchards and lumber mills along Bear Creek. The first car-load of fruit ever shipped from this county came from this section. You would find rare sport hunting and fishing on Deer Flat and in Manzanita Lake, some nine miles above the town," to Hal, who had questioned him with animation. "There are myriads of large, crimson-sided trout running in and

out through the branches of the sunken forest in that lake. It is very strange to see down in the clear water the lifeless trunks of trees running up to within a few feet of the surface. I have heard old Shave Head credited with having stocked the lake with fish, but know that the people owe this benevolent act to Major Reading, who brought them in buckets of water from Hat Creek nearly forty years ago."

Before parting for the night, we planned a trip to Anderson and Happy Valley on the morrow.

The morning sun dropped down a flaming day that rivaled the one before in unmitigated heat. I envied Hal his long association with the climate, for I was hopelessly uncomfortable. By a little after six we were on the road. A shining haze enveloped the mountains and spread its golden net across the glowing valley. A meadow lark arose and flung on the air his rich, sweet notes, while a flock of chattering black-birds, catching the morning's colors on their wings, wheeled close to the heavy-headed wheat

that grew by the wayside. All the country from Cottonwood to Anderson, Reddir.g and Millville, is the very best farming land in the county. To one who has served a seven years' apprenticeship in Southern California, the beautiful rivers and streams that here meet the eye are a source of never ending delight. A ride of six miles brought us to the suburbs of Anderson, a railroad town some five years old, lying in the lap of the great agricultural valley just alluded to. We passed some fine farms and orchards; the peach and prune trees we had never seen excelled in any part of the State.

"Don't miss the bridge across the Sacramento," cried Hal to me, interrupting the Doctor's account of the healthfulness of the climate. "There it is: length, thi teen hundred feet; three main spans, one hundred and fifty-five feet cach; cost, twentyseven thousand dollars," he quoted g bly. "Hold fast to the figures, my dear, as you value your reception among my Anderson friends. I can tell you they are proud of it, and it certainly is one of the finest in North

ern California. It didn't bridge over their little quarrel with Millville, but materially widened the breach by robbing the latter town of a part of her trade. We'll drive over it and give you a bit of a river view that is an exquisite painting in itself."

And soon we were crossing the noble stream that rolled its stainless flood under the all-rejoicing sun. Just here it divides its waters, making a miniature island, whose tangle of wild grape-vines swings loose from the supporting trees, and trails a veil of silvery green into the swift current. On the opposite bank, from a mass of living foliage, the white trunk of a dead tree extends its naked limbs far out on the river, which reflects its lifeless length on a background of richest color. I found the picture merited all Hal's enthusiasm. It is interesting to learn from the styles of the houses and business structures how far a town is inhabited by farmers, and how far by mechanics and other craftsmen. The face of a landscape indicates, to a certain extent, the occupation of its people. A thoughtful traveler

need not pause to ask of Anderson if she is engaged in agriculture, for every house and sign suggest the necessity of the farm and orchard.

I was treated so cordially here by Hal's friends that I had a refreshing feeling of irresponsibility. It is soothing to know that some one else's merits have placed you above criticism by strangers. After lunch we started for Happy Valley in company with its beloved patriarch, of whom I had heard enough to interest me greatly. He was a man past the prime of life, but was in no wise infirm or weakened by age. It might have been some peculiar gift of mind or spirit rather than of the body that gave one the impression that he had at his command great powers of strength and endur