ment later the thatch of pines on the Captain's brow. Cascade Falls are passed. The stage plunges ahead to the vantage-point from which the whole channel is disclosed. There we look into the very eyes of the Valley,—face a world of wonders concentrate.
The entrance more than 1600 feet below us is bordered by two cataracts, Bridal Veil and Ribbon Falls, whose parent creeks, breathless from their tumble, crawl toward the outbound river. Beyond, to the left, Tu-tock-a-nula, the Great Chief of the Valley, advances his silver-grey bulk to take toll of our coming. The Three Brothers peer each one above the shoulder of the other. Eagle Peak is the tallest. In a niche adjacent to it crashes Cho-lok, The Fall, loftiest of cataracts. Facing it is the bold cenotaph called Loya, the Sentinel. Next beyond the Sentinel on the south wall is defined the profile of Glacier Point. Still further to the east glows Muir's darling, the Half Dome, which is surpassed in height though not in majesty by Cloud's Rest, whose naked summit towers a mile and a fifth above Tenaya Canyon, the upper fork of the Valley. In the gorge and beyond it the eye beholds the cones of other mountains, snowy or bare, and waving meadows that unroll canopies of green to the eaves of turreted cliffs.
Descending to the river, the stage makes its way
