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English and American Flowers.

II.—Flowers and Forests of the Far West.

Temperate North America, as regards its types of vegetation, consists of four well-marked subdivisions. The most important and the richest in species is the great forest region of the Eastern States, whose main peculiarities were indicated in the first part of this article. West of this area, and extending from a short distance beyond the Mississippi to the base of the Rocky Mountains is the region of the great plains, almost destitute of trees, except in the river bottoms, but with a fairly rich herbaceous flora; and a very similar vegetation is found in the half-desert valleys and plains between the Rocky Mountains and the Sierra Nevada. A third botanical district consists of the higher wooded portions of the Rocky Mountains, together with the peaks and high valleys above the timber-line, in which the vegetation is, in many respects, very distinct from that of any other part of temperate America. Lastly comes the Californian region, extending from the Pacific coast to the upper limit of trees in the Sierra Nevada, a country of surpassing interest to the botanist, and well-known to every lover of flowers for the great number of beautiful and peculiar forms it has furnished to our gardens. It is proposed to give a brief sketch of the more prominent features of the flora of the three western regions, derived partly from personal observation during a summer spent in the country, largely supplemented by the writings of the late Professor Asa Gray and other American and English botanists.

The first region to be considered, that of the prairies, the great plains, and the deserts of the inland basin, may be very briefly noticed, since, although of considerable interest to the botanist, it is only occasionally that plants, remarkable for beauty of flower or other conspicuous characteristics, are met with. The eastern portion of the district, where the rich prairie lands of Kansas and Nebraska are being rapidly cultivated, produces many fine flowering plants wherever some steep or rocky slope has escaped cultivation. Here we find abundance of yuccas intermingled with blue pink and white-flowered spider-worts, handsome large-flowered penstemons, baptisias with large pea-like flowers of blue, yellow or white, many species of astragalus, yellow and white evening-primroses and other allied forms, several cactuses of the genera opuntia and mammillaria, blue larkspurs, pink oxalises, the purple Phlox divaricata, mallows of the genera Malvastrum and Callirhoe, some of which are well-known garden plants, and a host of sunflowers, asters, cone-

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flowers, golden-rods, coreopsis, and many other showy composites. This is the region of the buffalo or bunch grasses which formed the chief subsistence of the American bison. They are fine-tufted bluish grasses, much resembling in appearance our fine-leaved bent grass (Agrostis setacea), which is common on the heaths about Bournemouth and in Dorsetshire. I was informed that since the bisons had been destroyed the buffalo grass was also disappearing, being replaced by various coarser growing plants and grasses. It is probable that the uniform hardening of the surface by the tread of the herds of bison, together with the equally regular manuring, favoured the growth of this particular form of grasses.

As we travel westwards, towards the Rocky Mountains, the plains become more arid, and in places the vegetation resembles that of the deserts of the great basin. Here there are fewer conspicuous flowers, and a preponderance of dwarf creeping plants, with a few thorny bushes and some species of wormwood, forming the well-known "sage-brush" of the deserts. In the interior plains these thorny and grey-leaved shrubs prevail, with wide tracts of bare earth often covered with saline incrustations. Here and there are found some pretty flowers, such as phloxes, alliums, phacelias, gilias, cleomes, œnotheras, and other characteristic plants; but the general aspect is that of bare soil scantily covered with a dwarf vegetation, or of low, shrubby thickets of a grey or leafless aspect, consisting mostly of plants allied to the salt-wort, orache, and sea-blite of our salt marshes, or the goose-foot and wormwood of our waste places.

We will now leave these comparatively uninteresting plains and deserts and enter on the Rocky Mountains proper, their deep cañons, their wooded slopes and valleys, and their upland pastures, rocky streams and alpine heights. The forest trees consist mainly of a few species of pines, firs, and junipers, none of them very remarkable for size or beauty, with several poplars, and a few oaks, beeches, and maples; but these rarely form continuous forests, except where the soil and other conditions are especially favourable. Almost everywhere the conifers are most prominent, and give their peculiar character of dark ever-green spiriness to the forest vegetation. The present scantiness of timber trees is no doubt partly due to the agency of man, first by starting forest fires, which rapidly clear extensive areas, and more recently by the felling of timber for building and mining, a cause which has denuded most of the valleys of their original forest trees. There are a considerable number of shrubs of the usual American types, such as sumachs, snowberries, hazels, spiræas, brambles, and roses, mostly of species common to other parts of America and of no special interest from our present point of view.

It is when we enter among the mountains and explore the valleys, cañons, and lower slopes, that we meet with a variety of new and

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interesting plants. Among these are some which are specially characteristic of this part of North America. The phloxes, polemoniums, and gilias, some species of which are common in our gardens, are abundant, as are the penstemons and mimuluses, with the brilliant castilleias belonging to the same family (Scrophulariaceæ), whose crimson or scarlet bracts form one of the greatest ornaments of the higher woods and pastures. The elegant genus Phacelia is not uncommon, though its chief development is in California, and the moist valley-bottoms are often blue with the well-known flowers of the bulbous camassia. A curious genus of the Polygonum family (Eriogonum) is abundant, and the yellowish-white or rosy flowers of some of the species are very pleasing. Handsome composites abound, especially the genus Erigeron, with a number of peculiar forms, while the beautiful butterfly-tulips of California here make their first appearance. Lupines also are plentiful, though less so than further west, and the beautiful American cowslips (Dodecatheon) sometimes called "shooting-stars" are not unfrequent in boggy meadows.

But in addition to these more or less characteristic American types, the botanist is at once struck by the appearance of a number of European or even of British plants, and these not introduced weeds but forming an essential part of the flora. This is proved by the fact that the further we penetrate among the mountains and the higher we ascend, the more numerous become these familiar species or genera. Among the more abundant of these plants are the common yarrow (Achillea millefolium), our blue hare-bell (Campanula rotundifolia), the bistort (Polyonum bistorta), the common silver-weed of our roadsides (Potentilla anserina), and the rarer shrubby cinquefoil (P. fruticosa). In the sub-alpine and alpine districts these plants of the old world become more frequent and occupy a larger space in the entire vegetation, and in order to show the importance of this interesting feature of the Rocky Mountain flora it may be well to give a brief account of a week's exploration of the vicinity of Gray's Peak, one of the highest mountains of Colorado.

Accompanied by a botanical friend from Denver I went first by rail up Clear Creek Cañon, passing by Georgetown, to Graymount, the terminus of the railway, where there is a hotel and where horses are obtained for the ascent of Gray's Peak, about nine miles distant by the road. Graymount is situated at the junction of two valleys and is about 9,500 feet above the sea level. During a short stroll on the afternoon of our arrival on some rocky slopes we found two of our rarer British plants, the winter green (Pyrola rotundifolia) and the elegant twin-flower (Linnæa borealis), but instead of having nearly white flowers the former was reddish and the latter was of a deeper colour than in our native plant. The next day we walked to

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Kelso's cabin, where are some miners' houses about 11,000 feet above sea-level, situated at the lower end of a fine upland valley, which is above the timber line. During the earlier part of our walk up a wooded valley we first noticed fine clumps of the Siberian lungwort with its lovely pale blue flowers, growing more compactly than in our gardens, and splendid masses of the shrubby cinquefoil covered with its handsome yellow flowers, as well as our common harebell, all in the greatest luxuriance and beauty. In damp shady places we found the little moschatel, and in bogs the curious Swertia perennis, a kind of gentian with slaty-blue flowers. These are all European or North Asian plants, but there were many others peculiar to the region though sometimes of European rather than American affinity. Such are the lovely columbine (Aquilegia cærulea), allied to the species of the European Alps, abundant and conspicuous with its large blue and white flowers, while mingled with it grew the gaudy Castilleia integra, whose leafy bracts of intense crimson are visible from a long distance. This is a true American type, as is the pretty liliaceous plant, Zygadenus glaucus; and there were also abundance of dark purple or bright blue penstemons, several showy groundsels and erigerons and the handsome yellow composite, Arnica cordifolia.

It was when we had passed the timber line at about 11,500 feet elevation, and had entered the bare rocky valley at the head of which rises the snow-flecked summit of Gray's Peak, that we discovered some of the chief gems of the alpine flora of the Rocky Mountains. Along the borders of the stream, fed by the still melting snows and with its roots in the water, were fine clumps of the handsomest American primrose (Primula Parryi), its whorled flowers of a crimson-purple colour with a yellow eye resembling in general appearance the well-known Japanese primrose of our gardens. Among the stony débris and loose boulders which bordered the stream the beautiful Phacelia sericea was abundant, its violet-blue flowers growing in dense clusters and producing a charming effect among its desert surroundings. This is a typical American plant, since not only is the genus a peculiar one but the natural order to which it belongs—the Hydrophyllaceæ—is almost confined to that continent. The beautiful nemophilas of our gardens belong to the same family. In boggy places the handsome Greenland lousewort, an Arctic species, was plentiful, and in rocky crevices we found the moss campion (Silene acaulis), which is abundant on the Scotch and Welsh mountains.

The next morning we fortunately determined to explore a lateral valley called Grizzly Gulch, which diverged to the north a mile above the hotel and led into a fine upland valley on the north side of Gray's Peak. Here, just below the timber-line, we found a

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miner's house, and the two miners who had come home to dinner invited us to join them, and then offered to show us a fine place for flowers. They took us through the wood for half a mile, when we came upon a rocky and grassy slope with great snow-patches in the shady hollows, and the ground which the snow had left was literally starred with flowers. Leaving us to go to their work in a mine on the steep side of the mountain, we luxuriated in the finest Alpine flower-garden we had yet seen, although my friend had visited the mountains several times. What first attracted our notice were three plants of the crowsfoot family, which grew intermingled on a grassy slope almost surrounded by snow. These were, a nearly white globe-flower (Trollius albifloras), very dwarf and with spreading, not globular flowers; a buttercup, whose flowers were of the most perfect circular outline, and of a pure and rich yellow, both peculiar to the Rocky Mountains; and the narcissus-flowered anemone of the European Alps. Going a little further we found some of the more characteristic American forms, such as the beautiful blue-flowered Mertensia alpina, a dwarf Alpine form of Mertensia siberica and perhaps the most lovely plant of the genus; the pretty fringed grass of parnassus (Parnassia fimbriata); with peculiar species of the European genera, Aster, Cardamine, Astragalus, Delphinium, Trifolium, Saxifraga, Sedum, Valeriana, Veronica, and Pedicularis; with others of the American genera, Phacelia, Chionophila, Mimulus, and Zygadenus; and hidden among the rocks the minute purple-flowered Primula augustifolia. What more especially interested me, however, was the number of identical British or European species. Such were the moss-campion, the Dryas octopetala, Sibbaldia procumbens, the rosewort (Sedum rhodiola), the Alpine Veronica, and the Alpine chickweed, Lloydia serotina, a small liliaceous plant found on Snowdon, and two saxifrages, Saxifraga nivalis and S. cernua, all found also in our Welsh or Scotch mountains; and of European Alpines the pretty slaty-blue Swertia perennis which dotted the grassy slopes with its delicate flowers, the Alpine Astragalus, the Arctic willow, several saxifrages and gentians, and some other species characteristic of the flora of the Alps.

The next day, after sleeping at a miner's cabin situated at the head of the main valley at about 12,500 feet elevation, we ascended to the top of Gray's Peak, which is 14,250 feet high, and met with many other interesting plants. The little Eritrichium nanum, a minute but intensely blue forget-me-not, was found growing in the midst of clumps of the moss-campion; the Gentiana tenella and Campanula uniflora of the Arctic regions were also found at about 13,000 feet elevation; with the British Alpine penny-cress, the yellow Iceland poppy, the two-flowered sandwort, the Alpine arnica, the snowy buttercup, and other truly Arctic plants. Along with

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these were a few American alpine types, such as Eriogonums, Castilleias, and several composites. Near the summit of the mountain there were alternate upward-sloping bands of loose rock-débris and short turf, the latter gay with pretty yellow flowers. On examination these were found to consist of a potentilla and a saxifrage, whose flowers, resting close on the ground, were so much alike in form and colour that at a short distance they appeared identical. The intermixture of two very distinct species of flowers, coloured and shaped alike and flowering at the same time, is very uncommon, because it would interfere with regular cross-fertilization by insects. In this high and exposed situation, however, where the flowering season is very short and insects very scarce, the combination of two species of flowers may lead to a more conspicuous display, and be more attractive to whatever insects may visit such great altitudes; while with plants of such distinct families, the intermixture of the pollen would lead to no evil result, since each would be totally inert on the stigma of a flower of the other kind. The two species appear to be Saxifraga chrysantha and Potentilla dissecta.

On a general summary of the plants noticed during this excursion to one of the richest districts in the Rocky Mountains, I find that they comprised no less than 20 British species, about 45 European, mostly high Alpine or Arctic, and about 30 species which, though distinct, were allied to European types. There were thus a total of 95 species, either identical with or allied to European plants, while those which belonged to American genera, or were most nearly allied to American species, were about 30 in number. It thus appears that the alpine flora of the Rocky Mountains is mainly identical with that of the Arctic regions, and it is this identity which leads to the occurrence of so many British species in this remote district. In the review of the entire alpine flora of the Rocky Mountains by Professor Asa Gray and Sir Joseph Hooker, the number of species identical with those of the Arctic regions is 102, and the distinct, though often allied, species 81, while those that belong to peculiar American genera are only 14 in number.

In considering how this curious similarity of the alpine species of the two continents has been brought about, we must go back to a time anterior to the glacial epoch, when a rather mild climate prevailed in much of what is now the Arctic regions. The present Arctic flora, or its immediate ancestors, was then probably confined to the highest latitudes around the North Pole, together with the higher mountains which were immediately contiguous—such as Greenland, then only partially or not at all ice-clad, Spitzbergen and Nova Zembla, and some of the mountain peaks of Alaska and North-Eastern Asia. At this time the Rocky Mountains, the

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European Alps, and even Scandinavia supported in all probability only alpine forms of the plants of the surrounding lowlands, such as are now everywhere intermingled with the widespread Arctic species. As the cold came on, and the ice sheet crept farther and farther over the two continents, the true Arctic plants were driven southward, displacing the indigenous flora, which could not withstand the increasing severity of the climate, and occupying all the great mountain ranges on the lower side of the ice-fields and glaciers, and also such of the peaks as rose permanently above the ice-sheet of the glacial epoch. As the cold period gradually passed away, these hardy plants kept close to the gradually retreating ice, and in this way mounted to the higher peaks of many mountains from which the ice and even perpetual snow wholly passed away. Thus it is that so many species are now common to the Rocky Mountains and the European Alps; and, what seems more extraordinary, that identical plants occur on the summits of the isolated Scotch and Welsh mountains, and also on the White Mountains of New Hampshire and some of the mountains to the south of them.

Before passing on to sketch the flora of the west coast of America, we may briefly notice the more prominent differences between the Rocky Mountain flora and that of our European Alps, such differences as must strike every traveller who takes an interest in the floral beauties of the two regions. In the Alps the more striking and showy flowers of the Alpine pastures and higher rocks are the white, purple, and yellow anemones; the beautiful violas; the glorious blue gentians starring the short turf with azure and indigo, the numerous saxifrages, often with large and showy sprays of flowers; the many beautiful rosy and purple primulas and yellow auriculas; the handsome pinks; the delicate campanulas; the showy white and yellow buttercups, and the graceful meadow-rues. Now in almost all these groups the Rocky Mountain alpine and sub-alpine flora is deficient. Anemones are comparatively few in species and not abundant; violas are almost absent in the higher regions; gentians, though fairly abundant in species, make no brilliant display as they do in the Alps; saxifrages are few, and those of the crusted section with rigid leaves and large racemes of flowers are entirely wanting; primulas are represented by one handsome and two small and rather scarce species; campanulas are scarce, and pinks are entirely absent; while buttercups and meadow-rues are by no means abundant. Instead of these flowers so familiar to the Alpine tourist, the most showy and widespread plants are the fine long-spurred blue and white columbine, and the scarlet or crimson-bracted castilleias, which form sheets of beautifully contrasted colours, often covering wide mountain slopes either above or just below the timber-line; numerous purple or blue penstemons; fine blue polemoniums and

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lungworts of the genus Mertensia; some handsome purple or whitish louseworts, and a host of showy purple or yellow composites, which are far more numerous and varied than in the European Alps, and occupy a more prominent place in the alpine and especially in the sub-alpine Rocky Mountain flora. It is evident, therefore, that, notwithstanding the identity of so many of the species and genera of the two regions the proportions in which they occur are very different, and the aspect of the two floras is thus altogether distinct, and in some respects strikingly contrasted.

When we go westward to the Sierra Nevada of California, we meet with another alpine flora, generally similar to that of the Rocky Mountains, but with a smaller proportion of Arctic species and more which are characteristic of America. Here we find dwarf shrubby penstemons, curious prickly gilias, Mimulus and Eriogonum in more abundance, and a greater variety of ferns. But it is when we descend to the lower slopes and to the valleys and coast ranges of California itself that we find the greatest abundance of new plants altogether distinct from anything in the Eastern States, and it is to these that we must devote the remainder of our space.

Few countries have contributed to our gardens a larger number of showy and interesting plants than California. The rich orange yellow Eschscholtzias, the brilliant Calandrinias, the showy Godetias and Clarkias, the beautiful little Nemophilas and Phacelias, the gaudy Mimuluses and the handsome Collinsias, are known to every lover of garden flowers. Others familiar to every horticulturist are the curious pitcher-plant—Darlingtonia Californica, the handsome gigantic white poppy—Romneya coulteri, the elegant Dicentra formosa, the fine yellow-flowered shrub Fremontia Californica, the ornamental blue or white flowered evergreens of the genus Ceanothus, the fine shrubby lupines, the lovely flowering currants, including the fine Ribes speciosum with drooping fuchsia-like flowers, the scarlet-flowered Zauschneria Californica, the fine shrubby Diplacus glutinosus, and lastly, the many ornamental bulbous plants, such as the triteleias, brodiæas, lilies, and especially the lovely butterfly-tulips of the genus Calochortus, whose flowers are most exquisitely marked inside with delicately-coloured hairy fringes. But this by no means gives an idea of the great peculiarity of the Californian flora, which is best shown by the large number of its genera, probably more than a hundred, which are altogether unknown in the Eastern States. The flora is in fact related to that of Mexico, just as the flora of the Rocky Mountains is related to that of the Arctic regions, and the Eastern States flora to that of Japan and Eastern Asia.

But although the valleys and lowlands of California are specially characterised by hosts of brilliant annuals, monkey-flowers, lupines,

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and flowering shrubs, which make the country a veritable flower-garden in early spring, it is from its mountain forests of coniferæ that it derives its grandest and best-known characteristics. To a brief sketch of these, and of the accompanying shrubby and herbaceous vegetation, the remainder of this article will be devoted.

The Sierra Nevada of California, though rising to nearly the same altitudes as the Rocky Mountains, is by no means an imposing range, owing to the exceedingly gradual slope of the foothills which are continuous with it. From these low and arid hills, rising with a very moderate slope from the great central valley of California, there is a constant rise over an undulating or rugged country for nearly a hundred miles to the summits of the great range. The intervening tract is often cut into deep winding valleys, whose higher slopes are terminated by rugged volcanic precipices, where they have cut through the old lava-streams that once covered a large portion of the mountains; while nearer to the crest are enormously deep valleys, bounded with vertical walls and gigantic domes or splintered peaks of granitic rocks, of which the celebrated Yosemite Valley is the best known example. Owing to this formation the summits of the range can only be seen from great distances and from a few favourable points, as a somewhat jagged line on the far horizon, just rising above the dark forest-clad slopes, and here and there flecked with perpetual snows. A coach drive of three days from the railway terminus at Milton to the Yosemite Valley, and another to the Calaveras groves of "big trees," gave me an excellent opportunity of observing the main features of this remarkable forest region.

The lower portion of the foothills up to two or three thousand feet has been greatly defaced by gold-miners, who have dug over miles of ground and cleared away most of the fine timber. This lower portion is, however, naturally more arid, and the trees have never been so fine as at greater elevations. It is curious to notice how the pines and firs increase in beauty as well as in size as we ascend further towards the central ranges. For the first thousand feet there is a scanty vegetation of stunted shrubs, and the only conifer is the scrub-pine (Pinus sabiniana) which has a most singular appearance, being irregularly branched, with scanty foliage, and when well grown, looking at a distance more like a poplar than a pine. Higher up occurs the large white pine (Pinus ponderosa), which, except in very fine specimens, is a coarse, unornamental tree. Above two thousand feet we meet with the sugar pine (Pinus lambertiana), so called because its turpentine is sweet and sometimes almost like a mixture of sugar and turpentine. This is a handsomer species, and when full grown is of immense size and may be known at a distance by its clusters of large cones hanging down from the very

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extremities of its loftiest branches. Thus far the forests are poor, owing to the absence of the more elegant firs and cedars which only appear above 2,500 feet, when we first meet with the noble Douglas fir and the beautiful Red cedar (Libocedrus decurrens). This last is usually known in our gardens as Thuja gigantea, characterised by its columnar mode of growth and here sometimes reaching a hundred and fifty feet in height. Higher still, at about 4,000 feet, we come upon the most beautiful of the Californian firs, Abies concolor and A. nobilis. Both are exquisitely symmetrical in growth, while the dense horizontal branches of the latter species are adorned with the most delicate blue-green tints. These beautiful trees are to be seen here in every stage of growth, from such small plants as we see on the lawn of a suburban villa up to noble specimens 150 or 200 feet in height. These two elegant firs, along with the stately cedar and Douglas fir, and the noble yellow pine and sugar-pine, constitute the main bulk of the forest from 4,000 to 7,000 feet elevation, the belt in which alone are found the true "big trees" (Sequoia gigantea), in this country commonly known as the Wellingtonia.

Throughout these magnificent forests there is hardly any admixture of exogenous trees, and those that do occur only form an undergrowth to the far loftier coniferæ. A few small oaks and maples are sometimes seen, but more generally there is only an undergrowth of beautiful shrubs, the most conspicuous being the fine Californian dogwood, whose flowers, formed of the white involucres, are six inches across; and the lovely white azalea, whose delicate blossoms are beautifully marked with yellow. Besides these are the handsome Californian laurel and the white or blue flowered Ceanothus, while the "madrono" and "manzanita" (species of Arbutus and Arctostaphylos), are found in the drier portions of the forest and at a lower elevation.

The ground under the pines and firs is usually rather bare, but in favourable places there are some curious or beautiful creeping or herbaceous plants. Some of the drier slopes are completely carpeted with a curious little rosaceous plant (Chamæbatia foliolosa), having white flowers like those of a bramble and the most minutely divided tripinnate foliage, each leaflet looking about the size of a pin's head. Perhaps the most remarkable herbaceous plant of these forests is the Sarcodes sauguinea, a leafless parasite allied to our native monotropa, but of an intense crimson colour and very large, being often more than a foot high and two or three inches diameter. It is called the "snow-plant" in California, because it appears before the snow has wholly melted and is most striking and beautiful when growing out of it. This plant is accurately represented in one of the pictures in the "North" gallery at Kew. On the sides of the rocky streams growing in fissures which are often under water, the large peltate

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saxifrage seems quite at home, although in our gardens it will grow and flower even in the driest situations. The fine shrubby Penstemon Newberryi also adorns the rocky margins of the streams, the beautiful Diplacus glutinosus of our greenhouses is a common wayside shrub, while the lovely blue Brodiæas and painted Calochorti or butterfly-tulips, are as common as our bluebells and poppies. The fine yellow Cypripedium montanum is occasionally found in the forest bogs, while in open ground near the "Big Tree" Hotel, exquisite little blue Nemophilas, yellow Mimulus, and a tall Echinospermum with flowers like a large forget-me-not, were very abundant. Among these and many other strange flowers one British species was found, often starring the ground under the giant trees with its delicate flowers. This was the little chickweed wintergreen (Trientalis Europæa), only differing from our native plant in the flowers being pale pink instead of white.

Even if we leave out of consideration the giant Sequoias, the forests of the Sierra Nevada would stand pre-eminent for the beauty and grandeur of their pines, firs, and cedars. Three of these, the white pine, the red cedar, and the sugar-pine are, not unfrequently, more than six feet in diameter at five or six feet above the ground, whence the giant trunks taper very gradually upwards. One sugar-pine near the big-tree Hotel was found to be seven feet two inches diameter at five feet above the ground. A red cedar measured at the same height was seven feet diameter, and one of the white pines five feet nine inches. The height of the above-named sugar-pine was measured approximately by means of its shadow, and found to be 225 feet, and I was assured that one which had been cut down near the hotel was 252 feet high. The Douglas fir in the forests of British Columbia is said to surpass these dimensions considerably, being often ten feet or even twelve feet diameter, and near 300 feet high. Probably in no other part of the world than the west coast of North America is there such a magnificent group of trees as these; yet they are all far exceeded by two others inhabiting the same country, the two Sequoias—S. gigantea and S. sempervirens.

In the popular accounts of these trees it is usual to dwell only on the dimensions of the very largest known specimens, and sometimes even to exaggerate these. Even the smaller full-grown trees, however, are of grand dimensions, varying from 14 to 18 feet in diameter at six feet above the ground, and keeping nearly the same thickness for perhaps a hundred feet. In the south Calaveras grove, where there are more than a thousand trees, the exquisite beauty of the trunks is well displayed by the numerous specimens in perfect health and vigour. The bark of these trees, seen at a little distance, is of a bright orange brown tint, delicately mottled with darker shades, and

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with a curious silky or plush-like gloss, which gives them a richness of colour far beyond that of any other conifer. The tree which was cut down soon after the first discovery of the species, the stump of which is now covered with a pavilion, is 25 feet in diameter at six feet above the ground, but this is without the thick bark, which would bring it to 27 feet when alive. A considerable portion of this tree still lies where it fell, and at 130 feet from the base I found it to be still 12 1/2 feet in diameter (or 14 feet with the bark), while at the extremity of the last piece remaining, 215 feet from its base, it is six feet in diameter, or at least seven feet with the bark. The height of this tree when it was cut down is not recorded, but as one of the living trees is more than 360 feet high, it is probable that this giant was not much short of 400 feet.

The huge decayed trunk called "Father of the Forest," which has fallen perhaps a century or more, exhibits the grandest dimensions of any known tree. By measuring its remains, and allowing for the probable thickness of the bark, it seems to have been about 35 feet diameter near the ground, at 90 feet up 15 feet, and even at a height of 270 feet it was 9 feet diameter. It is within the hollow trunk of this tree that a man on horseback can ride—both man and horse being rather small; but the dimensions undoubtedly show that it was considerably larger than the "Pavilion tree," and that it carried its huge dimensions to a greater altitude; and although this does not prove it to have been much taller, yet it was in all probability more than 400 feet in height.

Very absurd statements are made to visitors as to the antiquity of these trees, three or four thousand years being usually given as their age. This is founded on the fact that while many of the large Sequoias are greatly damaged by fire the large pines and firs around them are quite uninjured. As many of these pines are assumed to be near a thousand years old, the epoch of the "great fire" is supposed to be earlier still, and as the Sequoias have not outgrown the fire-scars in all that time they are supposed to have then arrived at their full growth. But the simple explanation of these trees alone having suffered so much from fire is, that their bark is unusually thick, dry, soft, and fibrous, and it thus catches fire more easily and burns more readily and for a longer time than that of the other coniferæ. Forest fires occur continually, and the visible damage done to these trees has probably all occurred in the present century. Professor C. B. Bradley, of the University of California, has carefully counted the rings of annual growth on the stump of the "Pavilion tree," and found them to be 1,240; and after considering all that has been alleged as to the uncertainty of this mode of estimating the age of a tree, he believes that in the climate of California, in the zone of altitude where these trees grow, the seasons of growth and repose

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are so strongly marked that the number of annual rings gives an accurate result.

Other points that have been studied by Professor Bradley are, the reason why there are so few young trees in the groves, and what is the cause of the destruction of the old trees. To take the last point first, these noble trees seem to be singularly free from disease or from decay due to old age. All the trees that have been cut down are solid to the heart, and none of the standing trees show any indications of natural decay. The only apparent cause for their overthrow is the wind, and by noting the direction of a large number of fallen trees it is found that the great majority of them lie more or less towards the south. This is not the direction of the prevalent winds, but many of the tallest trees lean towards the south, owing to the increased growth of their topmost branches towards the sun. They are then acted upon by violent gales, which loosen their roots, and whatever the direction of the wind that finally overthrows them, they fall in the direction of the overbalancing top weight. The young trees grow spiry and perfectly upright, but so soon as they overtop the surrounding trees and get the full influence of the sun and wind, the highest branches grow out laterally, killing those beneath by their shade, and thus a dome-shaped top is produced. Taking into consideration the health and vigour of the largest trees, it seems probable that, under favourable conditions of shelter from violent winds and from a number of trees around them of nearly equal height, big trees might be produced far surpassing in height and bulk any that have yet been discovered. It is to be hoped that if any such are found to exist in the extensive groves of these trees to the south of those which are alone accessible to tourists, the Californian Government will take steps to reserve a considerable tract containing them, for the instruction and delight of future generations.

The scarcity of young sequoias strikes every visitor, the fact being that they are only to be found in certain favoured spots. These are, either where the loose débris of leaves and branches which covers the ground has been cleared away by fire, or on the spots where trees have been uprooted. Here the young trees grow in abundance and serve to replace those that fall. The explanation of this is, that during the long summer drought the loose surface débris is so dried up that the roots of the seedling sequoias perish before they can penetrate the earth beneath. They require to germinate on the soil itself, and this they are enabled to do when the earth is turned up by the fall of a tree, or where a fire has cleared off the débris. They also flourish under the shade of the huge fallen trunks in hollow places where moisture is preserved throughout the summer. Most of the other conifers of these forests,

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especially the pines, have much larger seeds than the sequoias, and the store of nourishment in these more bulky seeds enables the young plants to tide over the first summer's drought. It is clear, therefore, that there are no indications of natural decay in these forest giants. In every stage of their growth they are vigorous and healthy, and they have nothing to fear except from the destroying hand of man.

Destruction from this cause is, however, rapidly diminishing both the giant Sequoia and its near ally the noble redwood (Sequoia sempervirens) a tree which is more beautiful in foliage and in some other respects more remarkable than its brother species, while there is reason to believe that under favourable conditions it reaches an equally phenomenal size. It once covered almost all the coast ranges of central and northern California, but has been long since cleared away in the vicinity of San Francisco, and greatly diminished elsewhere. A grove is preserved for the benefit of tourists near Santa Cruz, the largest tree being 296 feet high, 29 feet diameter at the ground and 15 feet at six feet above it. Much larger trees, however, exist in the great forests of this tree in the northern part of the State, but these are rapidly being destroyed for the timber, which is so good and durable as to be in great demand. Hence Californians have a saying that the redwood is too good a tree to live. On the mountains a few miles east of the Bay of San Francisco, there are numbers of patches of young redwoods indicating where large trees have been felled, it being a peculiarity of this tree that it sends up vigorous young plants from the roots of old ones immediately around the base. Hence in the forests these trees often stand in groups arranged nearly in a circle, thus marking out the size of the huge trunks of their parents. It is from this quality that the tree has been named "sempervirens," or ever flourishing. Dr. Gibbons, of Alameda, who has explored all the remains of the redwood forests in the neighbourhood of Oakland, kindly took me to see the old burnt-out stump of the largest tree he had discovered. It is situated about 1,500 feet above the sea and is 34 feet in diameter at the ground. This is as large as the very largest specimens of the Sequoia gigantea, but it may have spread out more at the base and have been somewhat smaller above, though this is not a special characteristic of the species. Many other stumps were seen which were 20 and 30 feet in diameter, and all were surrounded with young trees of various sizes. The large tree is said to have been cut down forty years ago. It is, therefore, probable that, in the forests to the northward, redwood trees may exist equalling, if not surpassing, the "big trees" themselves.

I have now concluded a very brief and imperfect sketch of the more prominent aspects of North American vegetation, as seen

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during a single summer's travel across the continent. Many grand and beautiful scenes remain vividly painted on my memory; but if I were asked what most powerfully impressed me, as at once the grandest and most interesting of the many wonders of the western world, I should answer, without hesitation, that it was the two majestic trees some account of which I have just given, together with the magnificent and beautiful forests in the heart of which they are found. Neither the thundering waters of Niagara, nor the sublime precipices and cascades of Yosemite, nor the vast expanse of the prairies, nor the exquisite delight of the alpine flora of the Rocky Mountains—none of these seem to me so unique in their grandeur, so impressive in their display of the organic forces of nature, as the two magnificent "big trees" of California. Unfortunately these alone are within the power of man totally to destroy, as they have been already partially destroyed. Let us hope that the progress of true education will so develope the love and admiration of nature, that the possession of these altogether unequalled trees will be looked upon as a trust for all future generations, and that care will be taken, before it is too late, to preserve not only one or two small patches, but some more extensive tracts of forest, in which they may continue to flourish, in their fullest perfection and beauty, for thousands of years to come, as they have flourished in the past, in all probability for millions of years and over a far wider area.