As he champs and chafes with a strength untold—
And away to the West, where the waves are curl’d,
As they kiss white palms to the capes of gold!
—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 soft air are the winter characteristics of a hundred other places along this road that joins Los Angeles to Portland, passing through San Francisco—this Coast Line and Shasta Route.
THE BUSTLING CITY OF LOS ANGELES CROWDS CLOSELY THE OLD MISSION CHURCH OF OUR LADY OF THE ANGELS
IN THE HEART OF LOS ANGELES WEST LAKE PARK IS AN ATTRACTIVE RESTING PLACE