—Joaquin Miller.

A thousand wonders? The man who gave that as a result of his count evidently dodged his task. If he’d counted all the things that set one wondering—things God-made and hand-made, things of sky and sea, of cañon and mountain, and field and forest—along this thirteen hundred miles of highway he would never have stopped at a mere thousand. Ten thousand would have been something like it, but modesty is a decent and not over-worked virtue, and ought to be cheered wherever seen. Let it go at a thousand and see if the glory of these wonders may be impressed upon you. The climate is first, of course. You cannot overlook the novel joy of a region where on New Year’s day, they battle with roses instead of snowballs. In the country around Los Angeles they do that sort of thing as a fixed festival, but the same floral ammunition, and the blue sky and. . . Read More