of stone and a hard burnt brick that will turn the edge of the finest trowel. This brick had to be burnt, stone quarried and dressed, and huge timbers for rafters carried on men's shoulders from the mountain forests, sometimes thirty miles distant. through canyons and over tractless hills. Most of this work was done by Indians, under the direction of the Fathers, and while the position of the natives was practically a modified form of slavery, the padres treated them, it is said, with great kindness, and succeeded in converting many to Christianity and civilisation of a sort.

Financially these missions proved a great success. Want and strife were banished from their vicinity and prosperity and brotherly love reigned as never before. The end of this Franoiscan dynasty came suddenly. The Mexican Government wanted money to replenish their exhausted treasuries, and the

1781. The American, hard-headed business man that he is, has no use for a cumbersome appellation like this, so he has retained only the last two words, and about the same proportion remains of the old Spanish town. There is a Spanish or Mexican quarter, with unkempt adobe huts, and señores and señoritas may be recognised in the streets by their features and complexion, though not by their attire. With these exceptions, Los Angeles is a modern-a very modern-American city, and, like most American cities, its growth has been very rapid. In 1860 its population was only 4500; in 1880 (twenty years later) it numbered 11,000; and since then each decade has seen a rapid advance. In 1890 it was 50,000; in 1900, 102,479; and in 1910, 319,198. To-day its population is 575,000. Its hotels, clubs, theatres, and cafés are among the finest in America-which is saying much and, as the city and suburbs cover nearly 350

missions were secularised. The churches are now, with the exception of two or three, merely decayed legacies of a time the like of which the world will never know again. The few that still remain have been preserved by reverent hands, and modern American worshippers still frequent them; the rest are forsaken except by the tourist and the antiquarian, and their bells are silent for ever. They are a dream of the Old World, indifferent to the sordidness and turbulence of the present-day America one of the few things spared by a relentless past. Standing in the encompassing charm of their roofless arches and reminiscent shadows, one can almost hear the echoes of their sweet bells ringing out to heathen thousands the sunset and the dawn.

Los Angeles.

As I left the train at Los Angeles and drove in a very modern taxicab through very modern streets to the very modern and well-appointed building of the California Club, where I had been invited to stay, I could not help realising very acutely the difference between the present day and those days in which, only one hundred and fifty years ago, the Mission Fathers held their sway. The Spaniard was a world-conqueror in his day, but he has melted away before the Stars and Stripes. There have been no brilliant deeds of arms; the conquest has been the quiet heroism of emigrants and pioneers. The Anglo-Saxon has won California without the shedding of a drop of blood; the Spaniard has not even fled before him he has simply faded away, leaving nothing behind but a Spanish name to every town, mountain, and valley in California.

Los Angeles-the "g" is hard, by the way-is short for "Nuestra Senora, Reina de los Angeles "-Our Lady, Queen of Angels-which was the name given to it by the Spanish in

square miles, there is no shortage of elbow-room, and the residences are roomy and have large gardens. Altogether Los Angeles appears to be a delightful place to live in; the climate is summer all the year round, the vegetation is semi tropical and imparts an air of languid ease to the attractive homes on the outskirts, while the brightness and cheerfulness of the inhabitants testify to the general comfort and prosperity of the city.

If one expects to become acquainted with the "Wild and Woolly West" in Los Angeles one is disappointed. The city is the home of a refined and cultured community, and is one of the best educational centres in the States. Her prosperity depends on her climate and situation, and on the industries of fruit-growing, oil production, and mining-not to mention that very modern industry of which she practically has the monopoly, the cinema or movie" picture studios. There are some fifty such studios in and around Los Angeles, housing from two to fifteen companies each. The most interesting of these is known as Universal City. It lies in the outskirts among the foot-hills of San Fernando Valley. It is the only city in the world built for motion-picture production, and is a real city, with its own municipal government. It can, at a, few days' notice, be converted into a setting to represent any nationality required-Greece, Rome, London, or New York may with equal facility be represented. There I saw the gigantic lath and plaster" Babylon " used in the production of Intolerance." I saw also in a corner of one of the studios the making of a picture for a sensational drama film. A lady was sitting over the fire burning a letter in front of the camera, which took in a range of some twelve feet across. Round about her the other actors sat smoking and chatting: the well-groomed villain, the dashing hero, and the beautiful heroine, all ignorant (in the

play) that the letter was being burned, were watching the process only a yard or two away, but out of range of the camera.

In America the film was largely being used for war propaganda work, and so important was this regarded by the American Government that "movie" actors were specially exempted from military service. Perhaps this statement will help to quell for ever the unkind things that have been said about that hero of our juvenile population-Charlie Chaplin !

A little more than 100 miles north of Los Angeles, along the coast, lies Santa Barbara. More than a village, less than a city, this rose-buried spot has been styled the Mentone of America. It is beautifully situated, with a beach broken by rocky points against which the surf spouts in white columns, with lovely bungalows surrounded by semi-tropical vegetation, with long level drives by the shore, orchard valleys inland, and the Santa Ynez mountains in the background. It is one of the original Mission stations, the Mission building being in a fair state of preservation.

On the road to Santa Barbara I witnessed the remarkable spectacle of oil-wells in the sea. The pumps are sunk through the water and through the sand below, and the oil is pumped into receptacles held on floating wharves. Oilfields I had seen before, on hillsides and in valleys in California and elsewhere, but it seemed strange that in that rich and fertile State they should have to invade the domain of the ocean for some of the treasures of the earth.

San Francisco.

All Americans are proud of their cities, and the citizens of San Francisco are no exception; indeed, they have a city to be proud of. Disaster seems to have a stimulating effect on the American temperament, and the great earthquake of 1906 was simply an excuse for rebuilding the city on the present beautiful lines. The damage done by the earthquake was coinparatively slight; but the resulting fire destroyed the greater part of the city and allowed of much that was undesirable being cleared away.

San Francisco (the inhabitants do not like you to call it "Frisco ") is rather peculiarly situated, one side of the city being on the Pacific and the other facing the bay. The entrance to the bay is narrow and is known as the Golden Gate. The result of this peculiar situation is seen in the climate of San Francisco, which, while warm during the day, is very cold and foggy night and morning.

The old Exhibition buildings. which attracted such crowds in 1915 and housed so many treasures of art and commerce, were still standing when I was there. At first sight one was inclined to exclaim "Ichabod"-" the glory is departed "but as one drew nearer and saw that they had been converted into a training ground for soldiers and sailors one felt that a new glory had arisen and that " grim-visaged War" had taken. up his abode in the "Palace of Peace."

San Francisco is a curious mixture of East and West. The East is represented by the Chinese element: Chinatown in San Francisco-unlike the place of the same name in New York-is a genuine bit of the Orient dumped down in the midst of modern America. The eight thousand residents of this quarter have their own newspapers and banks, and form quite a colony by themselves.

As a city, San Francisco has had its ups and downs. When the first beginnings of the city took shape in one of the Mis sions in 1776, named after St. Francis-the sixth established in California-the reign of peace and idealism characteristic of these Missions was supreme; then the Golden Age was followed by the turmoil of the Age of Gold. The rough-andready days of the "forty-niners" followed the quiet, peaceful years of the Mission Fathers. After that came the War of Rebellion, after which it lapsed into a humdrum state, to be wakened by the advent of a trans-continental railroad. Then came a quick growth to half a million of population until the great earthquake and fire of 1906, which, as I have said, stirred the population into rebuilding.

The

San Francisco is said to be the gavest city in the United States, and I can quite believe it. But the gaiety is more European in its character than that of New York. cabarets and cafés remind one of Paris; the theatres remind one of London, the parks and open-air resorts of Southern Europe. Indeed, there is little in San Francisco that does not remind one of somewhere else.

As a business centre San Francisco stands first on the Pacific Coast. Its overseas commerce and its inland trade are both immense. Its docks fly the flags of all nations. and the opening of the Panama Canal has given a stimulus to San Francisco as a commercial port. And the commerce of the city has led to the establishment of a number of very large and magnificently appointed banks, the like of which are seldom seen.

A visitor to San Francisco must not fail to see Mount Tamalpais. Not only is the trip itself of interest on account of the mountain railway, but the view from the summit embraces the entire bay, the renowned Golden Gate, and a hundred points of scenic interest. To quote from the advertisement, this is thegreatest one-day trip in America."

The trip certainly has variety. It was a lovely morning when we started from the ferry and stepped on the boat for Sausalito. Half-an-hour's sail-or "boat-ride," as it is called there-took us past the Golden Gate to the other side. There an electric train conveys you to the Mills Valley at which point you transfer to the mountain railway where the real excitement begins. A small but powerful locomotive and a number of open cars take one by a very circuitous route indeed to the summit, 2,600 feet high, where one can have lunch, for there is a well-appointed tavern at the top, and view the scenery before returning.

This train is literally driven by the locomotive, which pushes the train before it. To an engineer, such a locomotive would form an interesting study. Even to a layman, like myself, it is not devoid of interest. The shaft affixed to the axles of the wheels is furnished with universal joints to enable the engine to negotiate the numerous sharp turns. And as this oil-driven engine goes puffing up the hill, pushing its living freight before it, one can imagine a long-tailed dragon of Chinese legend crawling backwards and upwards.

The mountain, though little more than half the height of Ben Nevis, is noble in appearance, richly wooded on its lower slopes, and very beautiful, and the views to be had as the little train twists and turns-some turns are so sharp that the passengers in front and rear cars can almost shake hands-are wonderful. Now it is a magnificent panorama of the bay and the Pacific beyond; now an ocean of tree-tops or a vista of fruit orchards; now the little train runs through a cutting of rough rocks or between huge boulders.

On reaching the tavern there is a short climb to the summit, effected by the use of "shanks's mare.' There, a telescope set on a swivel stand enables one to view all points of interest, and an ingenious dial arrangement enables one to turn this telescope at will to any point one wishes to see.

scenic

But it is on the return journey that the fun begins. After a good lunch and a leisurely view of the entire surrounding country through the aforesaid telescope, I returned to the terminal station to take my seat in the downward train. But the little engine had disappeared, and there in front of me was a train without an engine, and consisting of what are termed gravity cars." The brakesman loosened the brakes. and off we started. The sensation was delicious. It was a real railway," not a mere painted one. Down we went, rapidly and smoothly, putting on the brake slightly, but only slightly, when a turn had to be negotiated and loosening them again when the line became what one might by courtesy term "straight "-on, on for miles in a delicious rapture of motion. I don't exactly know whether it was due to the strong mountain air, or to the substantial lunch, or to a late night sampling the gaiety of San Francisco, but after about three-quarters of an hour of this sort of thing I felt an overpowering desire to close my eyes in slumber. I braced myself tightly against the seat of the car-I was sitting in the front row-and after several efforts to keep awake I at last allowed the impulse to get the better of me. How long or how short a time I slept I know not; I have a confused recollection of dreaming that I was in an aeroplane doing "stunts over the Atlantic, and suddenly making sharp turn to avoid a submarine, when I opened my eyes just in time to prevent my being precipitated sideways down some 2000 ft. into the valley below. I was cured. of my somnolence for the rest of that journey.

On the way down I stopped at Muir Woods, a primeval forest on the lower slope of the mountain. Thero I made my first acquaintance with the "big trees" of California. The trees in Muir Woods are more remarkable for their height than their girth some of them are 275 ft. high-but the forest itself is an awe-inspiring sight. For miles it stretches, the trees (Sequoia sempervirens) poiting their masts to the sky at an almost uniform height. The floor of this forest is a thick carpet of moss and ferns: wild flowers in all colours of the spectrum are to be seen all around, while many plants interested me as a student of materia medica which hitherto I had seen only as coloured plates or as dried specimens. It is a real Temple of Nature, and inspires a feeling of reverence such as no temple made with hands can ever hope to emulate.

Oakland.

To judge from the guide-books issued by railroad companies as well as from the talk of Oakland people themselves. Oakland is commercially a close rival to San Francisco. I am quite prepared to believe this; indeed the view from the ferry

-the first thing that came into my head in an easy though loud' voice, and was told that every word floated up perfectly. As might be expected, the University was largely devoted to war work, especially the technical side, much work being done in relation to aircraft. The newly fitted-up chemical laboratories, which I had a special opportunity of inspecting, are a marvel of completeness and convenience. They were on vacation when I was there, and the laboratory was empty, but one can hardly imagine so beautiful a building crowded with testtube-hugging humanity and reeking with sulphuretted hydrogen./

seen, All the drives near San Francisco seem somehow to suggest the constant nervous tension of that city; the sky-line drive at Oakland gives the suggestion of a haven of rest.

Immediately adjoining Oakland to the north lies Berkeley, the home of the University of California. In founding a University the Americans pay great attention to site and surroundings and the position of this one could not possibly be improved upon. Separate buildings in well-laid-out grounds combine to make a harmonious whole-a kind of intellectual garden city. In the centre of the grounds is the famous Campanile, built of white granite, 700 ft. high. Ascent is made in an elevator, and as one acquires a strong objection in America to mounting stairs, I was able to ascend by modern means and thus have a view of the entire University buildings at one time. Another feature is the Greek Theatre, where Greek plays as well as modern spectacles are staged. This is an open-air stone structure, and the acoustics are perfect. I happened to be in what we might term the back row of the grand tier when some persons entered and moved across the stage talking. Even allowing for the fact that American voices are more penetrating than ours, I was astonished at hearing every word of their conversation, so, in order to test the carrying power of the house on a British voice. I asked my friends to wait there while I went on the stage. I spouted a line or two from Shakespeare

"GRIZZLY GIANT."

The Oldest and Largest Tree in the World.

I cannot leave this district without reference to a drive taken one afternoon to the delightful little garden city of San Jose, some forty miles inland. The drive was through orchards, fig and olive groves, and other indications of a very fertile country. The Mission House of San Jose is still extant, and gives one a faint idea of the peaceful surroundings of those missions in the early days.

The Yosemite Valley..

To see the famous Yosemite Valley adequately would take at least a week, and to describe it anything like fully would require a special article. Not being on a pleasure tour, I was able to snatch from more pressing duties merely a week-end' in which to see this wonder of the world, and it was possible only to visit the more important features of the valley. After a run by rail of over four hours, most of the way by the side of a rushing river, on the banks of which are numerous disused gold mines, stage we arrive eventually at El Portal, where a motor awaits us, and soon after enter the valley itself. The whole valley, which is preserved by the U.S. Government as a National Park, may be described as a land of superlatives. It comprises some of the most remarkable rocks, the loftiest cataracts, and certainly the oldest, stateliest, and largest trees in the world. The motor drive entering the valley soon brings some of these

wonders to view. First we have the high rocks, such as the "Cathedral Rock" and others, which only prepare us for that marvellous piece of granite, rising 3500 ft. above the river, known as "El Capitan " (The Captain). In shape, El Capitan resembles an enormous cheese cover or a typewriter case, and as one drives along by the very base of this rock one cannot but

be impressed with its vast bulk and beautiful symmetry. The difficulty of finding suitable adjectives to describe it was evidently felt by a young lady sitting behind me in the car, for she turned to her father with these words: Say, poppa, what a vurry straight up and down proposition!" As we drive further into the valley we see some of the woderful waterfalls-perhaps the most noteworthy of which is the "Bridal Veil," and well it deserves

the name. Dropping 620 feet, with 200 feet of cascades below it, its lower portion enveloped in a delicate spray, it might well serve to hide the blushes of some fair bride in the days of giants and giantesses. On we go, passing other high rocks and other beautiful falls, until we arrive at a canvas settlement in a pine, forest, which is to be our residence for the night. This small city of tents, arranged in rows under giant pine trees, and carIpeted with the softest of pine-needles, is known as Camp Curry, and is the favourite "hotel" of the valley.

America is certainly a country of extremes. In the Palace Hotel at San Francisco one is provided with every possible luxury. Here, in the heart of the mountains, all the American asks for is a canvas roof, a camp bed, and a tin basin to wash in. One registers as at an hotel, and is allotted a tent; there is a cabin-like building centrally situated where one may bathe, and a larger "shack" where meals are served. It is the simple life in excelsis, and it tones in well with the general surroundings..

An open-air space in the middle of the canvas streets forms the equivalent of a lounge, and here the numerous residents-for the camp was very full-were sitting resting after 8 day's riding or walking. At first sight the camp seemed to be full of men, but closer observation showed that this was not so-only that the women were dressed in male attire-khaki breeches and "shirt-waists," with leggings or puttees. At first sight this was just a little startling; but one soon gets used to it, and it certainly seems a very sensible kit for hill-climbing. In the evening, however, when dancing is engaged in -a very usual practice in America-it becomes just a little confusing to see couple going around, both I partners dressed alike. must admit that, if the American ladies affect the trews on such occasions,they do not adopt any other male vices. One never-and to this perhaps New York is the only exception-finds them smoking in public. I do not assert that

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