Arizona republican., 1902-08-24

crinkle-leaved, with fluffy hearts of gold-the Matalija poppy-which is be- coming less and less common in the canyon, as conscience less travellers dig up the roots in great quantities each year and carry them away-a vandal- ish as it is reprehensible, since none but one expert in Horticulture can trans plant these flowers successfully.
 All through the Matilija are wonder full mineral springs, the temperature of which ranges from sixty to one hundred degrees, and never varies with the change of season. These, for their medicinal properties, have lately drawn many visitors to this region, and where the healing waters are most abundant, camping resorts have sprung up, and in these localities much has been made of the natural beauties and wonders of | adjacent surroundings.
 Devils Slide, a slippery Hume, 400 feet in height, Crystal Cascade, a filmy rush of sparkling water almost irri- descent as it tumbles into its rocky basin; Cupid's Rest, a romantic cave, hung with maidenhair ferns, it's messy entrance almost concealed by the rank growth of bracken at the base of the i opening; Boulder Cave; formed by q giant rock which is tightly wedged in a cavernous Assure, presenting a curi- ous sight; Hanging Rock, on which every loving couple must needs be pho- | tographed, despite the danger of seal ing the precipitous surface which i makes this feat possible-each of these is one of Natures wonders which no ! traveller Is allowed to miss.
 But there are hundreds of other mar vels in Matilija, not advertised, which need only the seeing eye, the heart at tuned to Natures finest moods to be quickly discovered.
 | The rock formations throughout the canyon are at once the delight and the despair of the geologist. Massive boulders lie heaped about in magnifi- | cent disorder. Like monstrous beasts they raise their huge gray backs in path or roadway, challenging all who pass.
 Perpendicular walls rise abruptly where nature has chiseled irregular stain in the granite walls, carpeted now with dry, plush-like mosses, dull green and olive browns.
 Matilija by day tempts every man to
 think himself an artist to long for can vas and brush; and when the shadows 1 lengthen and the setting sun just tips the mountain tops with gold and falls with lingering brightness on the wooded l hills, bringing out delicate tints soft hues in browns, reds and yelIow-greens which rival eastern autumn glories- then every man knows himself a poet, and the fullnesS in the throat, and the thrill in the heart come not from old memories, newly awakened. but with the longing for power to express that appreciation of beauty with which his soul is expanding.
 And when the pale moon rises above the hills and the stars come out, the woodsman and his clan gather around the cheery campfire in the cool of the evening. There are old tales to be told of the Indian chief, Malitija, and his fair. willful daughter of the lonely shepherd, lost in the Sespe; thrilling stories of the three bears who came down the west fork and demolished a bee ranch-legends and yarns, such as woodsmen love and such as can only be credited when night shadows fall. and looking beyond the circle of light cast by the camp fires glow, one sees only the impenetrable darkness of tine virgin forest closing in ruefuIly.
 Whispering pines; murmuring brooks voicing the sweetest lullaby; the shrill screech of the owl; the soft call of the strange night bird; the fair moon sink ing behind distant mountain peaks: si- lence breeding lower and lower. until dreamless slumber brings complete for getfulness.-Isabel Bates Winslow in Los Angeles Times.