The New Sequoia Forests of California.

• Main Author: Muir, John
• Format: Text
• Language: English
• Published: Scholarly Commons 1878
• Subjects: John Muir; Bibliography; Kimes; William F. Kimes; Maymie B. Kimes; pamphlets; journal articles; speeches; writing; naturalist; annotation; Chateau; Douglass; Indian; Long Mountain; Martyrs; North Fork; Rancheria; Ripen; Rocky Ridge; Sickle; Sitter; South Fork; The Gallery; Whit; Woodcock; Ice Sheet
• Online Access: https://scholarlycommons.pacific.edu/jmb/7; https://scholarlycommons.pacific.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1006&context=jmb

THE NEW SEQUOIA FORESTS OF CALIFORNIA. 813 Exchange until 1811, when it changed to the old conveut of the Miuiuies, and there "began to form the Museum. Oue of Teniers's sous having entered the order of San Franciscans at Mechlin, Lis father presented the convent with uiuetee'u pictures representing the nineteen martyrs of Gorcum. They were in the same conveut as late as the middle of the last century. Terriers was twice married. After many years Anne Breughel died; and though the marriage contract had been so drawn that, in case of her dying first, her large fortune should go to her children, Iris private fortune was ample, and his works still commanded large sums, so that the loss of the money made no difference in the style of his living, in spite of the statements of some that after her death he was obliged to leave his chateau. Anne was buried at Perck, and so also was his second wife, Isabella Fren, of whom there is no account, and the painter rests beside the latter. Terriers lived to be eighty-four, and died at Brussels in 1694. He painted to the last. About his latest work was the portrait of a councillor surrounded by his papers. To this sitter he said, "I have always before used the black of ivory, but to paint you I have burned my last tooth." Bontemps,a favorite chamberlain of Louis XIV., aud an admirer of Terriers, thinking to give bis royal master pleasure, bought a number of Teniers's pictures, and quietly hung them in the gallery at Versailles. The next time the king strolled through the gallery he stopped in front of them, and cried, with great disgust, " Take away those caricatures !" This was the "Grand Monarque's" estimation of the artist's works; but there are not many wbo agree with him. Greuze said, " Show me but a pipe, and I will tell you if it belongs to oue of Teniers's figures." Aud David, when working on his picture "The Sabines" was considering one day how best to paint the foreground, aud after speaking of his difficulties to Gerard, added, " Come with me we will go to the Louvre and see how Teuiers has treated his foregrounds." The two looked long and earnestly at oue of the Fleming's landscapes, and David, as he turned away, said to his pupil, "There is a master whom it is well to cousult." . So accurate is Teniers's touch, so clear his coloring, so vigorous his drawing, that Charles Blanc asserts " he has a personality so decided that his handling can not be confounded with that of any other painter. He is the Proteus of painters; he colors like the Venetians; he emulates the satin-finished aesh-colors of Rubens; he is by turns Dutch, Spanish, Flemish, as the mood seizes him. Yet when he enters his .cabaret he is sole master; no other artist can draw a pitcher, paint a jug, give the pure tone of a pipe- stem even, but one cau say, unhesitatingly, ' That is not a. Teniers; his touch, light, delicate, yet decisive, is not here.'" Moutabert, in his History of Painting, sums up his account of Teuiers thus: "The great secret of Teniers's success is his knowledge and appreciation of perspective. He understood that thoroughly, not onty of lines, but of tones, tints, aud touch. Besides this knowledge—the most necessary for a painter—Teniers had the art of combining the chiaro-oscuro and better yet, to my mind, the art of combining shades so as to produce the desirable effect of satisfying the eye." THE NEW SEQUOIA FORESTS OF CALIFORNIA. THE main forest belt of the Sierra Nevada is restricted to the western flank, and extends uubrokenly from one extremity of the rauge to the other, waving compliantly over countless ridges aud canons at an elevation of from three to eight thousand feet above the level of the sea. Here grow the noblest conifers in the world, averaging about two hundred feet in height, and from five to twenty feet in diameter—the majestic Douglass spruce; the libocedrus, with warm yellow-green, plumelike foliage; the two silver-firs (Picea ama- bilis and P. grandis), towering to a height of more than two hundred feet, with branches pinnated like ferns, and whorled around the trunk in regular collars, like the leaves of lilies; the yellow pine, forming arrowy spires of verdure; aud the priestly sugar-pine, with feathery arms outspread as if addressing the forest. But the great master-existence of these unrivalled woods is Sequoia gigantea, or " big tree"—a monarch of monarch, By reference to the map ou page 815 it will be seeu that the sequoia belt extends from the well-known Calaveras groves ou the north to the head of Deer Creek on the south—a distance of nearly two hundred miles; the northern limit being a little above the thirty-eighth parallel, the southern a little below.the thirty-sixth, aud the elevation above sea-level varies from about five to eight thousand feet. From the Calaveras to the south fork of King's River the sequoia occurs only in small isolated groves and patches, so sparsely distributed along the belt that two gaps occur nearly forty miles in width, one between the Calaveras and Tuolumne groves, the other between those of the Fresno and King's River. But from here southward nearly to Deer Creek the trees are nowhere gathered together into small sequestered groups, but stretch majestically across the broad rugged basins of the Kaweah and Tule in noble forests a distance of nearly [page 2 not translated] THE NEW SEQUOIA FORESTS OF CALIFORNIA. 815 nious view. When, however, ws approach so near that only the lower portion of the trunk is seen, and walk round ausU-'o-H-i-i.d the wide bulging base, then jj_e begin to wonder at their vastness, and seek a measuring rod. Sequoias bulge considerably at the base, yet not more than is required for beauty and safety; and the only reason that this bulging is so often remarked as excessive is because so small a section of the shaft is seen at once. The r.el taper of the trunk, beheld as a unit, is riesfcetfy- charming in its exquisite fineness, and the appreciative eye ranges the massive columns, from the swelling muscular- instep to the lofty summit dissolving in a crown of verd- outlines so firmly drawn and so constantly subordinate, to a special type. A kuotty, angular,ungovernable-lookiugbrauch eight otiew feet thick may ofteu he seen pushing out abruptly from the trunk, as if sure to throw the curves into confusion, but ri as soon as the general outline is approached it stops short, and dissolves in spreading, cushiony bosses of law-abiding sprays, just as if every tree were growing underneath some huge invisible bell-glass, against whose euij-es-every branch is pressed and moulded, yet somehow indulging so many small departures that there is still an appearance of -pe-rfoet freedom. The foliage of the saplings is dark bluish- green in color, while the older trees OF THE SEQUOIA KELT. nre, rejoicing in the unrivalled display of giant grandeur and g-ia-n-t loveliness. . About a, hundred feet or more of the trunk is usually branchless, but its massive simplicity is relieved by the flirting" bark furrows, and -loose tufts an+1-KJsettea. of slender sprays that wave lightly on the breeze and east flecks of shade, seeming to have been pinned on here and there for the sake of beauty alone. The young trees wear slender, simple branches all the way down to the ground, put on with strict regularity, sharply aspiring at top, horizontal about half-way down, and drooping in handsome curves at the base. By the time the sapling is five or six hundred years old, this spiry, feathery, juvenile habit merges into the firm rounded dome form of middle age, which in turn takes on the eccentric picturesqueness of old age. No other tree in the Sierra forests has foliage so densely massed, or presents .quently ripen to a warm yellow tint like the libocedrus. The bark is rich cinnamon brown, purplish in younger trees, and in shady portions of the old, while a-H the gronridAis covered with brown burs and leaves, forming color masses of extraordinary richness, not to mention the flowers and underbrush that brighten -and bloom in their season. Walk the sequoia woods at any time of year, and you will say they are the most beautiful.on earth. Rare and impressive contrasts meet yon every where—the colors of tree and flower, rook and sky, light and shade, strength and frailty, endurance and evanescence. Tangles of supple hazel bushes, tree pillars rigid as granite domes, roses and violets around the feet of the giants, and rugs of the low blooming-chamas- batia where the light falls free. Then in winter the trees themselves break forth in universal bloom, myriads of small four-sided SNOW-CRUSHED SAPLINGS IN THE FRESNO GROUP. conelets crowd the ends of the slender sprays, coloring the whole tree, and, when ripe, dusting a-H-the air and the ground with golden pollen. The fertile cones are bright grass green, measuring about two inches in length by oue and a half in thickness, aud are made up of about forty firm rhomboidal scales densely packed, with from five to eight seeds at the base of each. A single cone, therefore, contains from two to three hundred seeds, about a fourth of an inch loug by three-sixteenths wide, including a thin flat margin that makes them go glancing and wavering iu their fall like a boy's kite. The irrepressible fruitfuluess of sequoia may be illustrated by the fact that upon two specimen branches one and a half and two inches in diameter respectively I counted 480 cones clustered—together -like grapes. No other California conifer produces nearly so many seeds. Millions are ripened annually by a single tree, and the product of one of the small northern groves in a fruitful year would suffice to plant all the mountain ranges of the globe. Nature takes care, however, that not one seed in a million shall germinate at all, and of those that do perhaps not one in ten thousand is suffered to live through the many vicissitudes of storm, drought, fire, and snow-crushing that beset their youth. The Douglass squirrel, the " chickaree" of the West, is the happy harvester of most of the sequoia cones. Out of every hundred perhaps ninety-nine fall to his share, and unless cut off by his sharp ivory sickle, they shake out their seeds and remain firmly attached to the tree for many years. Watching the squirrels in their Indian-summer harvest days is oue of the most delightful diversions imaginable. The woods are calm then, and the ripe colors are blazing in all their glory. The cone-laden trees poise motionless in the warm smoky air, and you may see the crimson-crested woodcock, the prince of Sierra woodpeckers, drilling the giant trees with his ivory pick, and ever and anou filling the glens with his^careless cackle; the humming-bird, to», glancing among the pentstemons, or resting wing- weary on some leafless twig; and the old familiar robin of the orchards; and the greats grizzly or brown bear, so obviously fitted for these majestic solitudes-^-jnam- moth brown bears harmonizing grandly with mammoth brown trees. But-th^'Douglass"! squirrel gives forth more appreciable life j than all the birds, bears, aud Immuring insects taken together. His movements are/ perfect jets and flashes of energy, as if surcharged with the refined fire and spice of the woods in which he feeds. He cuts off his food cones with one or two snips of his keen chisel teeth, and without waiting to see what becomes of them, cuts off another and another, keeping up a dripping, bump-, ing shower for hours together. Then, after. three or four bushels are thus harvested, he SEQUOIA DOMES LOOMING INTO VIF.W ABOVE THE FIRS AND SUGAR-PINES. comes down to gather them, carrying them j away patiently one by one in his mouth, with jaws grotesquely stretched, storing > them in hollows beneath logs or under the roots of standing trees, in many different places, so that when his many granaries are full, his bread is indeed Rure. Some demand has sprung up for sequoia seeds in foreign and American markets, and several thousand dollars' worth is annually collected, most of which is stolen from the squirrels. Sequoia giganiea has hitherto been regarded as a lonely, companionless species not Vol. LVII.—No. 342.-52 properly belonging to the present geological age, and therefore doomed to speedy extinction. The scattered groves are supposed generally to he the remnants of extensive ancient forests, vanquished; in the so-called struggle for life/by pines and firs, and now driven into th-ei-r-lasi fortresses of cool glens, where moisture and general climate are specially favorable. > These notions are grounded on the aspects and circumstances of the few isolated northern groups, the only ones known to botanists, where there are but few young trees or saplings growing up around the failing old ones to perpetuate the race. 818 HARPER'S NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. The most notable tree in the well-known Mariposa Grove is the Grizzly Giant, some thirty feet in diameter, growing on the top of a stony ridge. When this tree falls, it will make so extensive a basin by the up- tearing of its huge roots, and so deep and broad a ditch by the blow of its ponderous trunk, that eveu supposing that the truuk itself he speedily burned, traces of its existence' will nevertheless remain patent for thousands of years. Because, being on a ridge, the root hollow and trunk ditch made by its fall will not be filled up by rain- l- washing, neither will they be obliterated I I by falling leaves, for leaves are oouotantl-y " d consumed in forest fires; and if by any chance they should not be thus consumed, the humus resulting from their decay would : OLD SUGAR-PINE. still indicate the fallen sequoia by a long straight strip of special soil, and special growth to which it would give birth. I obtained glorious views in the broad forest-filled basin of the Fresno: innumerable spires of the yellow pine, ranking above one another on the braided slopes; miles of sugar-pine, with long arms outstretched in the lavish sunshine; while away toward the southwest, on the verge of the landscape, I discovered the noble dome-like crowns of sequoia swelling massively against the sky, singly or iu imposing congregations. The forest, was now full of noon sunshine, and while pushing my way over huge brown trunks aud through the autumn-tinted hazel and dogwood of the lower portion of the.avalanche raviue, the gable of a handsome cottage appeared suddenly through the leaves, with quaint, old-fashioned chimney and trim, neatly jointed log walls, so fresh and unweathered they were still redolent of gum and balsam, like a newly felled sugar-pine. So tasteful and unique a cabin would be sure to excite attention any where, but beneath the shadows of this ancient -^vood it seemed the work of enchantment. Strolling forward, wondering to what my strange discovery would lead, I found an old gray-haired man, weary-eyed and unspeculative, sitting on a bark stool at the door. He looked up slowly from his book, as if wondering how his fine hermitage had been discovered. After explaining that 1 was only a tree-lover sauntering along the mountains to study sequoia, he bade me welcome, advising me to bring my mule dowu to a little carex meadow before his door, aud camp beside him for a few days, promising to lead me to his 'et sequoias, and indicate many things bearing on my studies. Stray bits of human company are delightfully refreshing in long mountain excursions, aud I gladly complied, choosing a camp ground a little way back of the cabin, where I had a fine view down the woods southward through a long sunny colonnade. Then returning to the hermit, and drinking of the burn that trickles past his door, I sat down beside him, and bit by bit he gave mo his history, which in the main is only.a sad illustration of early California life during thejjold period. - A succession of intense ex- periences^now boraxeforwardiu exciting successes, now down in crushing reverses, exploring ledges and placers sovr_juany a mountain, the day of life waning the while far into the afternoon, and long shadows turning to the east, health gone and gold, the game played and lost; and- now, creeping into the solitude of the woods, he awaits the coming of night. K. I pushed on southward across the wide corrugated basin of the San Joaquin in search of new groves or vestiges of old ones, surveying a wild tempest-tossed sea of pines from many a ridge aud dome, but ffun- THE HKRMIT OF THE FRESNO FOREST. not a single sequoia crown appeared, nor any trace of a fallen trunk. The first grove found after leaving the Fresno is located on Dinky Creek, one of the northmost tributaries of King's River. It was discovered several yeaivs ago by a couple of hunters who were iu pursuit of a wounded bear; but because of its remoteness and inaccessibility it is known only to a few mountaineers. I was greatly interested to find a vigorous company of sequoias near the northern limit of the grove growing upon the top of a granite precipice thinly besprinkled with soil, and scarce at all changed since it came to the light from beneath the ice sheet toward the close of the glacial period—a fact of great significance in its bearings on sequoia history in the Sierra. One of the most striking of the simpler features of the grove is a water-fall, made by a bright little stream that comes pouring through the woods from the north, and leaps a granite precipice. All the canons of the Sierra are embroidered with waterfalls, yet each possesses a character of its own, made more beautiful by each other's 820 HARPER'S NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. CONNATK, TRUNK OF A "FAITHFUL COUPLE" TWO HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-FIVE FEET HIGH. beauty, instead of suffering by mere vulgar arithmetical contrast. The booming cataract of Yosemite, half a mile high, is one thing;! this little woodland fairy is another. Its plain spiritual beauty is iaes-t impressively brought forward by the gray rocks and the huge brown trees, several of which stand with wet feet in its spray; and then it is decked with goldeu-rods that wave overhead, and with ferns that lean out along its white wavering edges, the whole forming a bit of pure picture of a kind rarely seen amid the sublimities of seqnoia woods. Hence I led my mule down the canon, forded the north fork of King's River, and climbed the dividing ridge between the north and middle forks. In making my way from here across the main King's River canon I was compelled to make a descent of 7000 feet at a single swoop, thus passing at once from cool shadowy woods to tropic sun glare. Every pine-tree vanished long ere I reached the river—scrubby oaks with bark white as milk cast their hot shadows ou the sunburned ground, and not a single flower was left for company. Plants, climate, landscapes changing as if oue had crossed an oceau to some far strange land. Here the river is broad and rapid, aud when I heard it roaring I feared my. short-legged mule would be carried away. But I was so fortunate as to strike a trail near an Indian rancheria that conducted to a lEgate ford - about miles below the King's River Yo- ut^OYmA Semite, where I crossed without the slightest difficulty, and gladly began climbing again toward the cool spicy woods. The lofty ridge forming the south wall of the great King's River canon is planted with sugar- pine, but through rare vistas I was delighted to behold the well-known crowns of sequoia once more swelling grandly against the sky only six or seven miles distant. Pushing- eagerly forward, I soon found myself in the well-known "King's River Grove" on the summit of the Kaweah andKing'sRiv- er divide. Then bearing off northwestward along the rim of the canon, I discovered a grand forest about six miles long by two in width, composed almost exclusively of sequoia. This is the northmost portion of the sequoia belt that can fairly be called a forest. The species here' covers many a hill and dale and gorge, and rocky ridge-top and boggy ravine, as the principal tree, without manifesting the slightest tendency toward extinction. On a bed of gravelly flood soil fifteen yards square, once occupied by four large sugar-pines, I found ninety-four young sequoias—an instance of the present existence of conditions under which the sequoia is stronger than its rival in acquiring possession of the soil and sunshine. Here I also noted eighty-six seedlings, from one to fifty feet high, upon an irregular patch of ground that had been prepared for their reception by fire. Bare virgin ground is one of the essential conditions for the growth of coniferous trees from the seed, and it is interesting to notice that fire, the great destroyer of tree life, also furnishes one of the conditions for its renewal. The fall of old trees, however, furnishes fresh soil in sufficient quantities for the maintenance of the forests. The ground is thus upturned aud mellowed, and many treesra plaH-ted. for every one that falls. Floods and avalanches also give rise to fresh soil beds available for the growth of forest trees in this climate, and an occasional tree may owe its existence and particular location to some pawing squirrel or bear. The most influential, however, of the natural factors concerned in the maintenance of the sequoia forests by the planting of seeds are the falling trees. That sequoia is so obviously and remarkably grouped in twos and threes is no doubt owing to the restricted action of this factor as regards area. Thus when an old tree ertiana, and P. ponderosa, Sequoia gigantea, Libocedrus de- currens, and Abies douglassii, all growing upon moraine soil also, but so greatly modified and obscured by post-glacial weathering as to make its real origin dark or invisible to [page 10 not transcribed] stoodJthat all those far-famed hollow trunks, into which horsemen may gallop, are hollowed, after falling, through-the-agency of fire. No sequoia, is made hollow by decay; and even supposing it possible that in rare instances they should become hollow, like oaks/while yet standing, they would inevitably smash into ifimall fragments when,, they feil.^X / Out from beneath the smoke clouds' of this suffering forest I made my way across the river and up the opposite slopes into woods not a whit less noble. Brownie the meanwhile had been feeding luxuriously day after day in a ravine, among beds of jeergia, and wild wheat, gathering strength for new efforts. But way-making became more and more difficult—indeed impossible, in common phrase. But just before sundown I reached a charming camp ground, with new sequoias to study and sleep beneath. It was evidently a well-known and favorite resort of bears, which are always wise enough to choose homes in charming woods where they are secure, and have the luxury of cool meadow patches to wallow in, and clover to eat, aud plenty of acid ants, wasps, and pine nuts in their season. The bark of many of the trees was furrowed picturesquely by their matchless paws, where they had stood up stretching their limbs like cats. Their tracks were fresh along the stream-side, and I half expected to see them resting beneath the brown trunks, or standing on some prostrate log snuffing aud listening to learn the nature of the disturbance. Brownie listened and looked cautiously around, as if doubting whether the place were safe. All mules Ahave the fear of bears before their eyes, a/nd are marvellously acute in detecting them, either by ing snow-bound, and feeling more than commonly happy for while climbing the river canon I had made a fine geological discovery concerning the formation aud origin of the quartz sands of the great "dead river" deposits of the northern Sierra Two days beyond this bear dell I enjoyed night or day. No dog can/scent a bear farther, aud as long, therefore, as your mule rests quietly in a bear region, you need have no fears' of their approach. But when bears do come into camp,, mules tethered by a rope too strong to break' are not infrequently killed in trying to run away. Guarding against this danger, I usually tie to an elastic sapling, so /is to diminish the shock in case of a stampede, and perhaps thus prevent either.neck or rope from breaking. The starry night circled away in profound calm, and I lay steeped in its weird beauty, notwithstanding the growing danger of be- a very charming meeting with a group of - deer iu one of nature's' most sequestered gardens—a spot never, perhaps, neared by human foot. The garden lies high on the northern cliffs of the south forlw-'The KwtVeTrh goes foaming past 2000 feet below, while the sequoia forest rises shadowy along the ridge on the north. Jtis only about half an acre in size, full of golden-rods aud eriogouae and ,tall vase-like tufts of waving grasses with silky panicles, not crowded like a field of grain, hut planted \¥ide apart among the a flowers, each tuft with plenty of space to manifest its own loveliness -both- in form aattcolor, and wind-waving, while the pi ant- less spots between are covered with dry leaves and burs, making a fine brown ground for both grasses and flowers' The whole is fenced in by a close hedge-like growth of wild cherry, mingled with QfAx- ' ftrrm&JxlaG and glossy evergreen manzanit.a, not drawn around in strict lines, but waving in and out in a succession of bays and swelling bosses exquisitely painted with the best Indian summer light, and making a perfect paradise of color. I found a small silver-fir near by, from which I cut plushy boughs for a bed, and spent a delightful night sleeping away all canon-climbing weariness. Next morning shortly after sunrise, just as the light was beginning to come streaming through the trees, while I lay leaning on my elbow taking nvy bread and tea, arid looking down across the canon, tracing the dip of the granite headlands, and trying to plan a way to the river at a point likely to he fordable, suddenly I caught the big bright eyes of a deer gazing at me through the garden hedge. The expressive eyes, the slim black-tipped muzzle, and the large ears were as perfectly visible as if placed there at just the right distance to be seen, like a picture on a wall. She continued to gaze, while I gazed back with equal steadiness, motionless as a rock. In a few minutes she ventured forward a step, exposing her fine arching neck and fore-legs, then snorted and withdrew. This alone was a fine picture—the beautiful eyes framed in colored cherry leaves, the topmost sprays lightly atremble, and just gra»ee4- by the level sun rays, all the rest .in shadow. , j But more anon. Gaining confidence, and evidently piqued by curiosity, the trembling spraysdndieated her return, aud her head* ^ came into view; then another and another 824 HARPER'S NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. step, and she stood wholly exposed inside the garden, hedge, gazed eagerly around, and again withdrew, but returned a moment afterward, this time advancing into the middle of the garden and behind her I noticed a secoud pair of eyes, not fixed ou me, but ou her companion in front, as if eagerly questioning, "What in the world do you see V Then more rustling iu the hedge, and another head came slipping past the second, the two heads touching; while the first.came within a few steps of me, walking with inimitable grace, expressed in every limb. My picture was being enriched aud enlivened every minute but even this was not all. After another timid little snort, as if'testing my good intentions, all three disappeared; but I ws& true, and my wild beauties emerged once more, one, two, three, four, slipping through, the dense hedge without snapping a twig, and all four came forward into the garden, grouping themselves most picturesquely, moving, changing, lifting their smooth polished limbs with charming grace—the perfect embodiment of poetic form and motion. I have oftentimes remarked in meeting with deer under various circumstances that curiosity was sufficiently strong to carry them dangerously near hunters but in this instance they seemed to have satisfied.curiosity, and began to feel so much at eas"e in my company that they all commenced feeding in the garden—eating breakfast with me, like gentle sheep around a shepherd—while I observed keenly, to learn their gestures and i what plants they fed on. They' are i daintiest- feeders f-e^ei-sarjy, and no wonder the Indians esteem the contents of their stomachs a great delicacy. They se-M-mn fly-a-ro-matie-shTubs. The ceauothus and cherry seemed their fav.or- Q, ites. They would cull a single cherry leaf ' with the utmost delicacy, then one of ceauothus, now and then stalking across the garden to snip off a leaf or two of mint, their sharp muzzlej enabling them to cull out the daintiest leaves oue at a time. It ', . was delightful to feel how perfectly the most timid wild animals may confide in man. They no longer required that I should re- . main motionless, taking no alarm when I shifted from one elbow to the other, and even allowed me to rise and stand erect. ""-Mt then occurred to me that I might possibly steal np to one of them and catch it, not with any intention of killing it, for that was far indeed from my thoughts. I only wanted to run my hand along its beautiful curving limbs. But no sooner had I made a little advance on this line than, giving a searching look, they seemed to penetrate my conceit, -an-d: bounded off with, loud shrill snorts, vaw-s-hirrg in the forest.i-^ There is a wild instinctive love of animal- killing in every body, inherited, no doubt, " from savage ancestors, aud its promptings for the moment have occasionally made me as excitedly blood-thirsty as a wolf. But far higher is the pleasure of meeting one's fellow-animals in a friendly way without any of the hunter's gross concomitants of blood and groans. I have often tried to understand how so' mauy deer, and wild sheep, and bears, and flocks of grouse—nature's cattle and poultry—could he allowed to run at large through the mountain gardens without in any way marring their beauty. I was therefore all the .more watchful of this feeding flock, and carefully examined the garden after they left^to see what flowers had suffered but I could not detect the slightest disorder, much less destruction. It seemed rather that, like gardeners, they had been keeping it in order. At least I could not see a crushed flower, nor a single grass stem that was misbeut or broken down. Nor among the daisy, gentian, bryanthus gardens of the A-rpts, where the wild sheep roam at will, have I ever noticed the ef- j fects of destructive feeding or trampling. . Even the burly shuffling bears beautify the ground on which they walk, picturing it with their awe-inspiring tracks, and also writing poetry on the soft sequoia bark in , . boldly drawn Gothic hieroglyphics. But,; , strange to say, man, the crown, the sequoia^ " of nature, brings confusion with -ftH his best 1 gifts, and, with the overabundant, misbe- J gotten animals that he breeds, sweeps away M the beauty of wilduess like a fire. Hence into the basin of the Tule the sequoia forests become still more extensive and interesting, and I began to doubt more than ever my ability to trace the belt to its southern boundary before the fall of winter snow. My mule became doubly jaded, and I had to drag him wearily from canon to canon, like a fur-trader making tedious portages with his cauoe, and to further augment my difficulties, I got out of provisions, while I knew no source of supply nearer than the foot-hills far below the sequoia belt. I began to calculate how long I would be able, or how long it would be right, to live on manzanita berries, so as to save time that was-ex-fceernel-y precious at this critical period of the year, by obviating the necessity ! of descending to the inhabited foot-hills only to return again. C/T/wv-v "True afternoon, after eating my last piece of bread, I stood on a commanding ridge overlooking the giant forests stretching interminably to the south, aud deliberating whether to push firmly on, depending on what berries I might pick, until I should chance upon some mountaineer's camp,., when a rifle-shot rang out crisp and joyfulf; ly over the woods. You may be sure I marked the bearings of that shot in a way not to be forgotten, and steered gladly through the THE NEW SEQUOIA FORESTS OF CALIFORNIA. 825 / woods in quest of the^-hunter. I had not gone far ere I struck the track of a shod horse, whiehd folliyw^Ho a camp of Indians iu charge of a flock of sheep. The only Indian iu camp when I arrived did not seem to understand me very well, but he quickly perceived that I was hungry, and besides, made out to say, in a mixture of words aud gestures, that he had a companion who would soon be iu who could "heap speak English." Toward eveni https://scholarlycommons.pacific.edu/jmb/1006/thumbnail.jpg