Summit of Lava Mountain'
deep fishing pools and wooded canyon form an ever changing and enchanting picture for the delectation of those who pass through.
Finding that they could not get through Quincy, the county seat of Plu- mas, by the Feather River Canyon, the party drove over the alternate route which goes by Bidwell's Bar, at present a deserted pile of ruins, but once the county seat of the combined counties of Butte, Plumas and Lassen, and a roaring mining camp of several thousand people. From Bidwell's Bar, the road leads through the wooded grades to Berry Creek, on to Buck's Ranch, and thence to Quincy.
After staying all night in Quincy, one of the prettiest and quaintest towns in the States, the party left the next morn- ing for Reno via the Beckwith Pass. The road from Quincy to Beckwith is through the Forest Reserve of the wooded Sierra
Nevada Mountains, and presents an end- less series of beautiful scenes to reward the traveler for his labors.
A stop was made for lunch at the town of Beckwith, after which the road lead- ing to the pass was taken. Warned that the pass was of such gradual ascent and low altitude that it was hardly noticeable to people going over, the party of motor- ists was on the lookout to note the mo- ment they went over the summit, but in spite of this fact, the party drove clear through the Beckwith Pass without know- ing it, and it was not until they were de- scending on the other side that they real- ized they had passed through.
From here on, the road to Reno is through the sage brush country of North- western Nevada, and is one of the objec- tionable features of this route as against the other Sierra passes. Arriving in Reno the party stayed that night in the lively Nevada metropolis, the next morning taking the Lincoln Highway back to Oakland, via Auburn and Sacramento.
The return trip through the Sierra Ne- vada from Reno was one of exceptional interest, and the party was never for a moment allowed to become tired or dis- interested, for the sublime unfolding of the magnificent mountain scenery was such that every one's attention was held.
Arriving in Sacramento the second night out, the party stayed there, and the next day took an easy run into Oak- land via the Davisville, Suisun, Benicia road.
EVERYBODY, SING.
My auto, 'tis of thee.
Short cut to poverty—
Of thee I chant.
I blew a pile of dough
For thee two years ago.
And now you quite refuse to go,
Or won't, or can't.
Through town and countryside,
You were my joy and pride;
Ah, happy day.
I loved thy gaudy hue,
Thy nice white tires so new,
But now you're down and out for true.
In every way.
To thee, old rattlebox.
Came many bumps and knocks;
For thee I grieve.
Frayed are thy seats and worn,
Badly thy top is torn.
The whooping cough affects thy horn,
I do believe.
Thy perfume swells the breeze,
While good folks choke and wheeze.
As we pass by.
I paid for thee a price
'T would buy a mansion twice.
Now everybody's yelling "Ice" ——
I wonder why?
Thy motor has the grippe,
Thy spark plug has the pip;
And woe is thine.
I, too, have suffered chills.
Ague and kindred ills.
Endeavoring to pay my bills
Since thou wert mine.
Gone is my bank role now,
No more 'twould choke the cow.
As once before.
Yet if I had the yen.
So help me John —— amen,
I'd buy myself a car again,
And speed some more.
Mal Rose in Woman's National Weekly.
