ble to catch the eye of the Chinese waiter till it is too late to make him of the slightest use. At such times you are glad to have a lunch-basket, and fall back on your Albert biscuit, orange marmalade, or whatever simple stores it may contain. These stores can be replenished at various points along the road if necessary. At Omaha and at Ogden fresh rolls and cold roasted chickens are to be had; at several other places crackers, canned meats, etc. THE PULLMAN CAR. One of our chief perplexities before starting was to find out in what part of the Pullman car it was best to secure compartments. We were expressly warned against the staterooms, as close and crowded, as also as being directly over the jolt of the wheels. We had tried sections often enough on cars not bearing the name of Pullman, to be very sure that we should not find them comfortable habitations for seven long days and nights. Yet there seemed no alternative; nobody told us that anything else could be procured. Our delight, therefore, can be imagined, when, on entering the Pullman car at Suspension Bridge, we found it a double-drawingroom car, and were told that for a little less than the price of a section apiece, we could become the happy occupants of one of the two delightful little rooms at the end. These rooms occupy the whole width of the car, with the exception of a narrow passage-way on one side. There are six ventilators in each, and four windows, two of which look out-doors, and two into the passageway, which has corresponding windows opening outward. On one side of the room is a long sofa, on the other two arm-chairs, whose backs are movable and can be tipped back to a convenient angle. There are lookingglasses on the walls. There is plenty of room above and below for your bags, bundles, and baskets. Between the two drawing-rooms is a dressing-closet, which is used by nobody in the car except the drawingroom occupants. At bed-time the porter enters, pulls the sofa out into a roomy bed, manipulates the arm-chairs in some mysterious way so that they form another bed, produces sheets, blankets, pillows from repositories overhead, hangs curtains over doors and windows, presents you with a handful of clean towels, and departs, leaving you shut into as snug and secluded a bed-room as any one could desire. If you are wise, and prepare for bed early, you can take possession of the dressing closet, bolt the door of the second drawingroom, and have the luxury of a sponge-bath. When a hotel-car is attached to the train, it is even possible to compass a pail of hot water. The comfort and refreshment of such a bath after the dusty day can scarcely be overstated. The price of a drawing-room from New York to Ogden is forty-eight dollars, which shared between two persons is somewhat less than a section for each would cost. Each drawing-room contains berths for four persons, but when four persons occupy them they cease to be comfortable. For two people, especially two ladies traveling alone, nothing on wheels has ever been invented which is so perfect. I am told that it is possible on the New York Central to engage a Pullman drawing-room through to Chicago. They should always be telegraphed for, if possible, a day or two in advance, as they are in demand, and no train carries more than two, or at most four. Between Suspension Bridge and Chicago, and in the Burlington and Quincy road from Chicago to Omaha, hotel-cars are attached to the train. These are infinitely ingenious in their fitting up, and most beautifully kept and appointed. They have compact kitchens which seem only just large enough to hold the jolly black cook, and yet contain everything which a housekeeper's heart could desire,-range, ice chest, store closets, sink, coal bin, dresser for china,--while the diningroom attached, with its little tables set out with fresh linen, and pretty plate and china, is so appetizing in its aspect that it would tempt an anchorite to be hungry. It is to be hoped that in time it may be found possible to carry these cars over the whole length of the road; when that takes place, the comfort of the journey will be greatly increased. One is often surprised to hear returned travelers speak so little of what would seem to be the inevitable fatigue of so long a journey. The fatigue is, in truth, much less than would be expected. This is partly due to the great comfort of the Pullman cars, and to their smooth motion, and also, as Mr. Nordhoff justly remarks in his recent book, to the slow running of the railroad trains. The quiet, the absence of clatter, the being able to talk without raising the voice, are surprising reliefs. And the freedom from jar, the skillful avoidance of shocks in starting and stopping the trains, is very noticeable. The journey from Chicago to Ogden does not carry the traveler through noticeable scenery except in certain spots, as between Cheyenne and Sherman, and beyond Evanston, where are the Weber and Echo cañons. At Ogden, which is the junction of the two Pacific roads, the Utah Railroad forks off, and by a short and beautiful ride of three hours brings you to Salt Lake City. This is the point at which many people break the journey by a few days' rest. I would advise every one to do so. The Mormon hotels are sufficiently comfortable, and the city itself, standing beneath its rampart of mountains, with the great lake shining beyond, is most interesting, and well worth a visit. From Ogden on, the scenery grows finer as you rise over the Sierra slopes and finally, cresting the summit, go down on the other side and glide across the wide plains of California toward the coast. reaches San Francisco in the evening, which The through train is a pity, as one thereby loses getting a first view of the city from its water side, which is by far the finest. There is nothing in San Francisco itself to detain the traveler many days. The sail round the Bay, with its views of the Golden Gate and the fortified islands, is beautiful, and so is the drive to the Cliff House. Every one should visit the Chinese quarter and the Chinese theater, the great blanket manufactories, and, if possible, the works of the Kimball Co., where specimens of the exquisite woods of California are to be seen. streets of the city are also entertaining, with The their irregular and picturesque elevations, their profusion of flowers and shrubs, and their odd mixture of nationalities. Nothing specially novel is to be found in the shops, excepting Chinese and Japanese wares, which are very pretty and tempting, and photographs of California scenery. The Watkins photographs are too well known to require comment; but I should like to mention that Mr. Muybridge, a photographer not so long before the public, will exhibit this spring a series of large Yo Semite views, finer and more perfect than any which have ever before been taken. These views are chosen with all the discrimination and perceptive faculty of a true artist, and give that last and rarest charm of photography, the atmospheric and cloud effects of the landscape. No one visiting San Francisco should fail to see these pictures, which are on exhibition in Montgomery Street, not far from Watkins's gallery. EXCURSIONS. Of some of the shorter excursions to be taken from San Francisco, I can speak only by hearsay. San Raphael, which stands picturesquely on the Bay, at the foot of Tamal place, and we regretted not having spent a Pais mountain, is said to be a delightful day or two there. Monte Diablo is reported to command a view which well repays the long drive necessary to see it. The old mission towns of Santa Clara and San Josè, the Southern Pacific Railroad, are interesting which are reached in two or three hours by the summit of the Coast Range brings you spots. From San Josè, a day's staging over California. to Santa Cruz, the favorite watering-place of few spare days at command, to take this exI would advise any one with a cursion, if only for the sake of the ride over the mountain, which is wonderfully fine. such roses, geraniums, jessamines, and pasFlower-lovers should not fail to do so, for sion-flowers grow nowhere else as run riot in every little garden in Santa Cruz. Ninety-six miles north of San Francisco lies the mysterious Geyser Valley, a narrow mountain cleft, filled with boiling springs and reaching this remarkable region, via Healdsmineral deposits. There are two ways of burg, and via Calistoga; and as the roads from both these places to the Geyser Cañon are wild and interesting, it is well to go by one burg, and coming back through the lovely and return by the other-going by Healdsin three days from San Francisco, and should Napa Valley. The excursion can be taken not be missed by any tourist whose time is not very limited. THE YO SEMITE VALLEY. Almost every traveler to California arrives only of the one by which we ourselves went ley, whence a short nine miles in the saddle brings you to Hutchings' Hotel. Our equipment was simple-a single extra dress, a single change of clothes. There is a laundry in the valley, and it is better to have your clothes frequently washed than to burden yourself with unnecessary garments. Our things were packed in a small valise. All baggage goes down the trail in canvas sacks slung over a mule's back. If you carry a trunk you must pay for an extra mule. As I mentioned before, "Yo Semite suits" can be bought in the San Francisco shops. These are made of flannel or water-proof stuff, and comprise trowsers, a short skirt, and a loose shirt plaited in at the waist. They are very well adapted for the dust and rough usage of the valley. Still, I will mention, for the encouragement of any lady who does not care to burden herself with a special outfit for the excursion, that one of our party wore, in her traveling dress, a strong gray flannel, with cloak to match, rode on horseback in it for eight days, and, finally, brought it away in such respectable condition, that it answered for the return trip over the Pacific Railroad. We made the trip to the valley in the public stages, and returned by a private carriage, and are therefore qualified to judge of the merits of both methods of travel. I should unhesitatingly recommend the private carriage. It does not (for a party) cost much more than the stages, and is greatly preferable, not only for its superior comfort, but for the greater freedom it allows with regard to hours of starting and stopping at night. The stages are run on an arbitrary system, which does not take into account the convenience of passengers. They leave generally by halfpast-four or five in the morning, lose two or three hours in halts in the course of the day, and by six P.M. deposit you at uncomfortable inns where you don't want to stop, while a few miles farther is a comfortable one where you would prefer to be. With a private carriage and driver many of these discomforts can be avoided. There are agencies in San Fancisco where arrangements for private teams are made. But if we were going again we should manage thus: We should write or telegraph to either Boyd's or McLane's livery-stables in Sonora, for a carriage to meet us on a given day at Milton, specifying the number of seats and horses required, and that the wagon must be one with all the seats facing forward. The cost of such a wagon with two horses is fifteen dollars a day; with four horses, twenty five. A party of, say five, will require four horses. We should pay for the day spent in bringing the wagon down from Sonora to Milton,-for a day spent in going from Milton to the Calaveras Grove of Big Trees,-for a third day at the grove, towards the close of which, we should drive to Murphy's,-for a fourth, occupied in going from Murphy's to Garrote,and for a fifth, from Garrote to Gentry's. The fourth day's ride would take us through Sonora, and (here is the great advantage in taking the carriage from that place instead of Stockton) we should there obtain fresh horses for which we had telegraphed the day before, and which would enable us to get through to the edge of the valley in two days. If, as many persons do, we stayed only four days in the valley, we should not send away the carriage, but let it await us at Gentry's, as we should have to pay for the four days it would consume in going and returning from Sonora. But we should stay more than four days. We should stay ten days, a fortnighta month if we could, and telegraph for the carriage to come up for us when we wanted it. Possibly a party might come along who wished to journey up in it, in which case, we should be saved fifty dollars. Getting back to the railroad via Chinese Camp would occupy two days more, and there would be still a third to be paid for, which the wagon would spend in getting back to its stable. So the expense of the whole, for our party of five, would be $300-$60 apiece,-which, in the event of another party taking the carriage up from Sonora, would be reduced to $50 each,-the price of the journey by the regular stages. Hotel expenses in the valley are three dollars a day. You pay also two dollars and a half per day for your horse. The party collectively pays five dollars a day for a guide. Of the beauty, the rewardfulness of the place, I cannot trust myself to speak in an article so brief and so practical as this. That another spot so exquisite exists on the face of this earth it is not easy to make those believe who have felt the spell of that perfect loveliness. And it is a beauty which does not fade from the memory, but remains always, stirring the heart with strong pathetic pleasure, like the recollection of a beloved and absent friend. On the way home we spent a week on top of the Sierras, where a deep basin of transparent blue water, fringed with pine forests and watched over by snow peaks, has received the name of Lake Tahoe. This delightful spot ranks in our affections next to the Yo Semite. CHAPTER X. DURING the closing days of summer, I was surprised to meet in the street, walking alone, the maid who accompanied Mrs. Sanderson to the sea-side. She courtesied quite profoundly to me, after the manner of the time, and paused as though she wished to speak. "Well, Jane," I said, "how came you here?" She colored, and her eyes flashed angrily as she replied: "Mrs. Sanderson sent me home." "If you are willing, I should like to have you tell me all about it," I said. "It is all of a lady Mrs. Sanderson met at the hotel," she responded,-"a lady with a pretty face and fine manners, who is as poor as I am, I warrant ye. Mighty sly and quiet she was; and your aunt took to her from the first day. They walked together every day till Jenks came, and then they rode together, and she was always doing little things for your aunt, and at last they left me out entirely, so that I had nothing in the world to do but to sit and sew all day on just nothing at all. The lady read to her, too, out of the newspapers and the books, in a very nice way, and made herself agreeable with her pretty manners until it was nothing but Mrs. Belden in the morning, and Mrs. Belden at night, and Mrs. Belden all the time, and I told your aunt that I didn't think I was needed any more, and she took me up mighty short and said she didn't think I was, and that I could go home if I wished to; and I wouldn't stay a moment after that, but just packed up and came home in the next boat." The disappointed and angry girl rattled off her story as if she had told it forty times to her forty friends, and learned it all by rote. "I am sorry, Jane, that you have been disappointed," I responded, "but is my aunt |