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hundred and thirty-two square miles. The normal flow of the creek is one hundred and ten cubic feet per second. As the city grew in size and it became apparent that the limits of its capacity would soon be determined unless a supply of water more copious than that afforded by the creek could be secured, the sources of this perennial stream were explored and the subterranean gravels of its rise most diligently probed. It was found that the whole of this valley, called the San Fernando, was a storage reservoir, and that the twenty-seven annual inches of rain which fell in the mountains, and the fifteen inches which found its way into the valley, accumulated there in a sort of underground lake; yet the surface of the soil gave no indication that water was contiguous. The glacial drift of which this valley land is composed lies to a depth of one hundred and sixty feet, and the standing pool of water within it has a perpendicular measurement of from twenty to fifty feet. By these investigations it was demonstrated that from the source of this valley and its catchment basin alone there was water at hand ample to supply a population of three hundred thousand souls.
And what has been demonstrated to exist in the San Fernando valley is repeated in valleys all over the arid West. Thousands of these natural water-pots exist, locked in the arms of great mountains with bare glistening teeth, the levels torrid with dancing heat, the scene tawny, arid, and wild. Sink a hole and shake the handle of a pump, and pure, potable, crystalline water gushes forth to refresh the soil, to vitalize the vegetation and turn the dull dun green.
But the query rises, does the water which enters these stones and sands remain there, or does it proceed somewhither, and are those bodies veritable channels for conducting the fluid from its mountain repositories—where? As I have said, science has thus far paid but the most meagre and superficial attention to these underground waters, and this question I have never seen discussed. Unquestionably, however, the waters are moving, and, like the flows upon the surface, they are proceeding to the sea. A notable evidence of this is the fact that the subterranean waters along the lower border of the arid country lie very much nearer the surface than is the case in the States above. Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona are meshed with streams which break out upon the surface and flow on in the beds of rivers to the gulfs. Water is attainable at a depth of from ten to fifteen feet over enormous areas. At San Antonio, springs yield twelve million gallons daily; at Wetherford, in Parker County, a single well gives one million gallons daily; Marion has a well which gives two million gallons daily; while in New Mexico a spring forms a river fifty feet wide and yields five hundred and nineteen million gallons daily. At Raton, New Mexico, springs and a well give a daily yield of two hundred and thirty thousand gallons; at Phoenix, Arizona, the town is supplied by wells which furnish four million gallons daily. Almost everywhere underground water may be had in abundance; yet this is the part of the district farthest from the path of cyclonic disturbances, where aridity attains its maximum, where the rainfall in the valleys measures but three inches annually.
Why then is it that here the sands and strata are so impregnated
