Many people climb to the summits in order to get views of the canyons, imagining that from such heights can be found the best vistas of their caverns. They thereby get a beautiful glimpse of the dark recesses below; but one must see the canyons from their depths in order to fully grasp their beauty and grandeur. We now get close to nature, and she talks to us in a language which all can interpret, and what glimpses of the outer world we see are toned and made mellow by the setting of rocks and forests which are blended by the variegated colors of brilliant green and the "sere and yellow leaf" of those trees which cannot overcome their hereditary nature and sleep while all other vegetation is bursting into new life.
Professor Lowe, having the eye of a true artist, laid out bridle paths, built stairways and walks, and, without disturbing nature, made access to the canyons along the route of the Mount Lowe Railway easy and pleasant, either on foot or on saddle animals. One can spend days and weeks with pleasure and profit in exploring these recesses, with the advantage of having a home at night with all the conveniences of urban life, at no greater cost than when stopping at hotels in the valley. Visitors should therefore come prepared to prolong their stay until they have leisurely roamed over all the paths and explored the canyons which constitute the itinerary of the Mount Lowe Railway, and not be satisfied with a cursory glance at the wealth of scenery which is so easy of access, especially when its hotel accommodations are superior to all others in Southern California and at no greater cost than in the valley.
The Sierra Madre are not composed of dry, barren earth heaps, but, true to their name, are Mother Mountains, fostering and protecting life's children. A refuge for all, for primitive man of past times, who was forced to depend upon them for water and food, and for the civilized man of to-day, seeking health and enjoyment in their oxygenated atmosphere and restful solitudes.
For the lowest as well as the highest of organizations the mountains are a grateful retreat. The simple amoeba, whose existence is undoubtedly the oldest of all times, finds living here impossible, for in water it must live and move and in desert wastes it must perish.
The stately yuccas—the candlesticks of our Lord—their white fragrant blossoms borne on the straight stalks, at a distance looking like so many white stakes set by surveyors, grow only on the mountains and foothills; while down in the deep canyon streams the lowest of plants, the algæ, abound.
The nearer one approaches to the mountains the more abundant are the signs of life, the more prolific is nature, the more do the flowers multiply; until when the foothills are reached one sees them to be literally covered with blossoms.
The ferns are already at the mountains, while the flowering plants all seem to be on their way thither, as emigrants from the dry valley, leaving but few by the roadside, stragglers loitering on the mountain march, or perhaps not stragglers, but simply doubters, hesitating whether to still proceed to where the water ever flows, or whether to wait and see what further wonders man can accomplish with his irrigation.
From the fertile, semi-tropical fields of Altadena, aglow with golden poppies, stretching up in the mountains to the rocky summit of Mount Lowe, where saxifrage and penstemons, ferns and nightshade harmoniously cleave to the rocks and strive to gain a living in summer time against altitude and dryness only to be buried in snow in the window months, the line of march extends.
Shrubs and flowers in profusion vie with each other as to which will brighten the landscape the more. The California lilac of the lower altitudes, lays downs its masses of purple blue color, the manzanita thickets of the heights send out their heavy white fragrant blossoms, a pleasing contrast to their rich red gnarled stems, while the brilliant gilias, the showy mariposa lilies, the various primroses, the mocking monkey face flowers—the mimuli, make the trails and bridle roads resplendent. The spotted tiger lilies look down upon the water flowing in the canyons, the woolly blue-curls—the trichostema, relieves the dull browns of the chapparral and the baby blue eyes, the nemophila, hugs closely the mountain sides.
The abundant phacelia whitlavia nods in its blue bells over the bank's edge, while its relative, the white phacelia, creeps over the rocks higher up. Downy yellow violets—wild pansies the children call them, so much larger are they than the Eastern violets—grow on the rich moist earth by the mountain springs.
Over the scrub oaks the yellow and white honeysuckle winds, while the clematis drapes other thickets with its graceful festoons of white blossoms in spring, leaving for the fall the funny seed balls still clinging to the vine.
Later in the year the wild fuchias and wild astors come unexpectedly forth when valley flowers have long since given up blooming, keeping up the reputation of the mountains for having flowers at all times and at all seasons.
The coast line of the Pacific ocean, as seen from Mount Lowe is peculiarly fine. On a clear day many islands can be seen from the summit, where the eye can scan a distance of nearly three hundred miles along the shore. Some of the islands rise from the surface of the water only a few hundred feet, their surfaces being high table lands, which can be cultivated; others are mountains, the highest peaks towering 3,000 feet high, while others are apparently the rocky tops of submerged mountains.
The position of Mount Lowe is such that with one sweep of the eye they will pass in review on a clear day (which in this region is the normal condition of the atmosphere), giving a panorama of ocean, island, mountain and canyon scenery which cannot be equaled on the globe.
The San Gabriel Valley and the mesa lands lying between the Mission Hills and the ocean are choice bits of God's creation, as are also the interior valleys which radiate from them.
This stretch of fertile land, all of which can be seen from some point of view on Mount Lowe, already contains two hundred and fifty thousand people, and yet only a small portion of the soil is cultivated. It is capable of sustaining a population of several million from the products of the soil alone, not to say anything of its superior location for manufacturing and commerce. Probably before the new century is half a decade old more than a million people will have their homes here.
The portion of this region lying immediately at the foot of Mount Lowe is the most thickly populated section of Southern California. Directly underneath, within a few miles of its base, is the beautiful city of Pasadena, with its sixteen thousand people, and just beyond the Mission Hills, the metropolis of the southwest, Los Angeles, is located, with one hundred and forty thousand population. These two cities show a greater annual per cent. of development than can be found in any other portion of the United States. The upper or western portion of the San Gabriel valley is cut up into fruit farms, which look from the mountains like well kept gardens, and the whole scene is one of busy activity. These cities, towns, orchards and farms give added charms to the landscape.
Through a good opera glass or a field glass the celebrated avenues of Baldwin's Ranch, the Mission San Gabriel, the Convent at Ramona, a portion of the Industrial School at Whittier, many of the public buildings of Los Angeles, and other objects of interest may be seen. A score or more of cities, towns and villages are clearly discernible, and the course of their streets well outlined. The Puente Hills, the Mission Hills, the San Rafael Hills and their surrounding mountain heights, with the peaks of Santiago, San Antonio, San Bernardino, San Gorgonio, San Jacinto, Santa Monica, Santa Inez and San Fernando are all in sight, and beyond these fertile valleys and highlands can be seen the peaceful waters of the Pacific sparkling and glimmering in the warm sunshine, studded here and there with some of the most beautiful islands in the world, the headlands of Santa Catalina standing out in a clear day like the bold cliffs of Gibraltar, and San Clemente, St. Nicholas, Santa Rosa, San Miguel, Ancapa, and Santa Barbara bedecking the ocean like the isles of the Grecian Archipelago.
On several New Year's Days I have made this wonderful and memorable trip. The climatic conditions are so peculiar that within three hours' time of enjoying a swim in the warm waters of the Pacific one may be snowballing his friends, sleighriding or tobogganing on the heights of Mount Lowe. The accompanying pictures give some faint idea of the unrivaled charm of this unique trip. Sometimes I have started at the snow in the mountains, but on New Year's Day, 1897, I first took a swim in the Pacific Ocean at Long Beach. This, "the Atlantic City of the West," is twenty-one miles southeast of Los Angeles, and the beach is one of the finest in the world. It has a gentle slope, is of firm sand, and is equally as good for horseback riding and driving as for bathing. Its great length of solid sand is what suggested the name, hence it is an ideal spot for those who love the ocean and the sands. Here, with several friends, I reveled in the surf and beyond, and then returned to the hotel with an appetite vigorous and healthy. The cravings of hunger satiated, the train whirled me back towards the mountains. Now the electric cars of the Pacific Electric Railway, over a broad-gauge track, surpass even the steam cars in their speed and easiness of motion. The green lawns of Long Beach were left behind, that the eye might feast upon the rich green of the alfalfa fields and sugar beet ranches. The old Dominguez Ranch was passed, the mesa upon which the last fight with the Mexicans took place before California was secured to the United States, and the interesting gardens of the industrious "heathen Chinee." Never for a moment were we out of sight of the majestic Sierra Madre Range, while hoary San Antonio (so inappropriately and disrespectfully called "Old Baldy," by the uncouth and irreverent), lifted his sentinel head in watchfulness over the ever-verdant and glorious San Gabriel Valley. To the right and somewhat to the rear was the cloud banner mountain of Southern California, Mt. Santiago, while further away to the east were the giant peaks of San Bernardino, San Gorgonio and San Jacinto.
On reaching Los Angeles change was made to the Pasadena cars and a thirty minutes' ride conveyed me to the flower-embowered streets and avenues of Pasadena, where a score of thousands of citizens and visitors were assembled to enjoy the annual Tournament of Roses. This great mid-winter festival fully illustrates the climatic felicities of this God-blessed region. It is a midsummer fête, where, generally, flowers are lavishly expended in a wealth of floral decorations that to an eastern mind seems incredible. Floats, carriages, tally-hos, bicycles, horses and burros, decorated with choicest flowers, pass in procession through the streets and avenues, cheered by enthusiastic visitors. After reveling in the scene, the electric cars whirled myself, a solitary unit among several hundreds of people, to the heights of Echo Mountain and Alpine Tavern. Here, taking horse, and accompanied by a distinguished medical professor of the University of Minnesota, we were soon on the north slopes of Mount Lowe, where scores of patches of snow were seen. In the mid-winter air we rode without any inconvenience from cold, even light overcoats being unnecessary. Returning to Echo Mountain, we enjoyed there a concert, and then the doctor and I returned to Pasadena and Los Angeles, respectively, he delighted with the novelty of his trip, and I satisfied that in no other country in the world can such a three-hours' New Year's Day trip be enjoyed than in our "Land of the Sun Down Sea."
Although the trip so briefly described above was taken on New Years' Day it must not be thought that it is a trip specially confined to that day. Snow generally is to be found on the north slopes of Mount Lowe from the end of November (after the first rains) until the middle of May, so that thousands of visitors may enjoy this unique trip. Stopping over night at Alpine Tavern, one may revel in the snow in the morning and be photographed at an elevation of 5,000 feet, taking a sleigh-ride to Inspiration Point, where he may stand or sit and look over the blossom covered orange and lemon groves and flower gardens of Pasadena. In three-quarters of an hour he may be driven in a carriage near those very orchards and gardens, where snow has fallen but twice in eighteen years. After dinner, a little over another hour's ride brings him to the shore of the semi-tropical Pacific, and here he may enjoy a swim, or, if he prefers, stand on the beach and watch a hundred people sporting in the warm breakers. This is no unusual experience for the delectation not only of those who are robust and strong, but even the delicate may, with perfect impunity, make such a trip, and thus be enabled to write to Eastern friends, shivering in the rigorous cold of an Alpine winter, of the pleasures of this almost unbelievable three hours' journey "from the mountains to the sea."
No photograph or engraving can give any adequate conception of the grand proportions of this majestic mountain. Seen from Los Angeles, Pasadena, or the intermediate or surrounding points, its three crests are clearly outlined against the sky, and it stands—the proud monarch of the Sierra Madre range—centrally located and immediately overlooking Pasadena and the head of the San Gabriel Valley. The bridle road of the "Mount Lowe Eight" reaches its topmost crest, where there are delightful mountain parks surrounded by live oaks, pines, firs, sycamore and other trees.
The climatic and atmospheric advantages of this site for astronomical and meteorological observations have been enthusiastically expatiated upon by such scientific experts as President Eliot and Prof. Pickering of Harvard, Profs. Barnard and Burnham of the Lick Observatory, Prof. Kent of Chicago and many others. No more suitable site could be selected in the whole domain of the American continent.
Along the Alpine division the cars pass through a forest of giant pines, which covers all the northern slopes of the Sierra Madre. The symmetrical branches weave a network against the background of blue sky. These hardy trees grasp the granite rocks with their gnarled roots and send a lacework of delicate fibres down the almost imperceptible fissures for nourishment. The roots of pines and oaks have penetrated the crevices to a depth of twelve to fifteen feet below the surface.
The "naming" of Mount Lowe was quite an interesting ceremony. A large party of distinguished citizens of Los Angeles and Pasadena had ridden to the summit to see the progress made in the construction of the railway and bridle roads, and an article written at the time by one member of the party and published in an Eastern paper, the Anglaise County (Ohio) Republican, says:
"While in the enjoyment of the beauties and grandeur on this magnificent elevation more than 6,000 feet above the sea, some one inquired the name of this grand and lofty mountain, and then it was discovered that until this time this giant peak, the monarch of the Sierra Madre, was unnamed. One of the party suggested that whereas Professor T. S. C. Lowe, the great scientist, had first ridden to the top, had made the first trip to its lofty summit, was the first man to have planted the stars and stripes on its highest point, and was the first man to conceive the project of reaching its dizzy height with a railroad, and with courage and means to put such a project into execution, as was now being done, no more fit and appropriate name could be given this mountain than the name of 'Mount Lowe.' The motion to so name it was put and carried without a dissenting vote, and so, there above the clouds, it was named; and it will continue to be so named, when every one of the party present at the christening shall have been laid away in Mother Earth; and generations yet unborn shall trace its rugged outlines on their physical geographies and call it Mount Lowe."
There are various ways of "doing" Mount Lowe, but many people do not give themselves time enough to fully enjoy the various attractions which are to be found along the route. To people of leisure who desire to thoroughly explore the canyons, enjoy the scenery in all its varied manifestations, many days can be profitably and most pleasantly passed, the varied scenery furnishing new enjoyment every day. Those whose time is limited should come prepared to stop at least twenty-four hours. By taking an early train Echo Mountain is reached in time to take a ride over the Alpine division, and also to the summit of Mount Lowe, going over the bridle roads from Alpine Tavern on saddle animals. The afternoon can be profitably spent in exploring the many canyons of the "Mount Lowe Eight," and viewing the sunset from Echo Mountain.
In the evening there can be witnessed the operation of the great World's Fair Searchlight and telescopic views of the Moon and the Planets, the great Milky-way, with its millions of Suns as large as our own; Saturn, with its beautiful rings; Jupiter, with its grand belts and Moons, and many other celestial objects.
The Lick Observatory at Mount Hamilton is reached by a tedious round trip by stage of 54 miles without a chance to stop over night at the observatory. After viewing the splendid telescopic views from Lowe Observatory, all are invited to inspect the Incline machinery, elsewhere described.
The Sierra Madre Range has long been regarded as the most beautiful location in which to escape from the heat of midsummer, or to make the change of climate and scenery. Heretofore the seashore has been more largely patronized on account of its ease of access, but many hundreds of people have annually made pilgrimages to remote mountain resorts because of the pure air and healthful surroundings there to be found.
The building of the Mount Lowe Railway into the very heart of the mountains, and the erection of a modern hotel at Alpine has drawn the attention of the people to these attractions, and the trend of travel is now turned mountainward. Accommodations at the Tavern are not surpassed by any on the Coast, and the liberal policy of the company to those who desire to pass the summer here has so greatly reduced the expense of living that it costs no more, railway fares included, than at the seashore, and far less than by traveling long distances where they can find nothing to compare with this resort.
Other mountain resorts are hard to attain, and the cost in money, time and exertion places them beyond the reach of most people. But here, all the enchanting pleasures of mountain life can be enjoyed with the same ease and comfort and at no greater exertion than in the lowlands. For those who are affected by the heat and dust of the valley it is an ideal retreat, where complete exemption is to be had from all complaints of the respiratory organs, especially asthma and hay fever. The healthy and robust also find a variety of scenery and exercise which made life glow with new vigor, attaining in a large degree all needed rest and recuperation.
At Mount Lowe Springs the Alpine Tavern affords excellent accommodations at an elevation of 5,000 feet above the sea, in the giant pines which crown the summit of the first range, in which, also, are opportunities for cottage and tent life in a region in which are found the purest water, air which is perfectly adapted to delicate lungs, and innumerable opportunities for the physical and intellectual upbuilding of overtaxed minds and bodies. Here one can find rest and sleep as they have never slept before, awaking refreshed with the tonic of mountain air and sweet repose.
In closing the history of this remarkable enterprise, one thought overshadows all others as we contemplate the author and his work.
It is the thought of the unsolved mysteries and sublimities and beauties of these mountains—their inaccessibility, their remoteness—had it not been for the persevering efforts of Prof. Lowe. The dark curtain that had hung for ages over these craggy chasms, these phenomenal canyons, these magnificent forests, these abysmal depths and cloud piercing heights, these grottoes and glens, these solitary habitations of bird and beast would still be drawn down but for his enterprise and genius—thus shutting out a thousand delights to the multitudes who have already looked upon them, and the myriads in the coming century who are yet to rejoice in their glories.
And no words of mine can express the charms, delights and beauties of Mount Lowe better than the following apt and eloquent summary by Dr. J. H. Barrows, of Chicago, the well-known President of the Parliament of Religions at the World's Fair, and later, until his lamented death, the honored President of Oberlin College, Ohio:
"Thousands of trees grow out of its sold granite slopes; soft mountain breezes sing luring songs to the trees, the birds reply in a perfect ecstacy of liquid melody, the cataracts here and there dash and boom in accompaniment, and the rippling streams gossippingly carry the joyous news of the mountain heights and solitudes to the sweet mesas and plains below.
"Four varieties of scenery are here combined: The beautiful San Gabriel Valley pastoral scene; the sublime ocean and pearl-like island views; the Alpine, Swiss, Norwegian and Himalayan effects, the circle of magnificent peaks from San Antonio to San Jacinto. Here we have Italy and Switzerland, both together! Snow and orange groves! Icicles and heliotrope! Sleigh-riding and rose gardens! Toboganning and humming birds! Skating and butterflies! Snowy mountains and pearly faced ocean, hazy islands and Eden's garden, all held in the bottom of God's hand, in the sight of one man's eyes, at one and the same moment!"
It was from Mount Lowe that the President of the Pacific Electric Railway gained his first insight or "oversight" of the vast possibilities of the region in and around the city of Los Angeles. When it was suggested to him that the time was not far distant when the whole of this region, from the mountains to the sea, would be threaded over with electric railways, he was inclined to regard the suggestion as chimerical. Time has made his the hand to perform the improbable. Nowhere in the civilized world is such a suburban and interurban system of electric railways to be found as radiates from the city of Los Angeles to the cities, towns, seaside and mountain resorts of this portion of Southern California. Visitors to the Mount Lowe Railway should request the conductors to point out from the summit of Echo Mountain the location of the following places.
One of the most interesting trips out of Los Angeles is over the Pacific Electric Railway to Long Beach. This enterprising city is located twenty-one miles southeast of Los Angeles on the shores of the Pacific Ocean. Its location is such that the natural advantages make it the finest seaside resort in California. Taking the cars at the corner of Sixth and Main Streets, the city of Los Angeles is soon behind us and we are "spinning" along at sixty miles an hour over the smoothest piece of broad-gauge track ever built, in cars that are large and commodious.
Many points of interest are passed en route—the extensive fields of the Co-operative Colony, vegetable ranches with their picturesque Mongolian workmen; through the prosperous town of Compton, which is situated in the centre of a fertile district, where sugar beets, garden truck, alfalfa and other products of the soil are raised; thence by the old Dominguez Ranch, famous for the old Spanish bull fights held there, also the old chapel where every Catholic bishop in this State has held Divine services. The surrounding Mesa was the field of one of the fights of the Mexican War.
The track is so straight that the poles, rails and wires converge and the vanishing point is seen. The miles are slipping by at a rapid rate. Over bridges, through fields, by shady nooks and deep pools we go. Rich fields of alfalfa, with their valuable herds of cattle grazing in the foreground, while in the distance San Antonio rearing its hoary head to the skies, the sentinel of the tropical San Gabriel Valley, makes a picture long to be remembered.
Passing over a most attractive lagoon and up a slight grade—the steepest on the trip—we are nearing the city of Long Beach. Houses with their beautiful lawns appear on every hand. Situated on the right is the new high school building, an example of the Old Mission architecture. Turning from American Avenue on to Ocean Boulevard, the broad Pacific greets our unobstructed view. Hundreds are enjoying the bracing air and delightful surf. The large building to the left is the open air pavilion, in which concerts are given every day in the year, dances being held tri-weekly. From here the broad pleasure pier runs out through the roaring surf to the distance of eighteen hundred feet. Fine fishing is had from this point of vantage, although by going out in boats one may enjoy the pleasures of deep sea fishing. The world renowned leaping Tuna and June fish are taken, some running as high as 200 pounds.
Among the attractions of the beach is the new $90,000 bath house. Finely equipped in every respect, it is the best appointed and largest bath house in the South. The warm plunge is 60×120 feet, graded to all depths. Here one may enjoy still water bathing and acquire the art of swimming more readily.
Up and down the beach for miles as far as the eye can see is the broad expanse of hard, white sand—fourteen miles long at low tide—making one of the finest drives imaginable, while off shore the white winged yachts add an enchantment to the scene. The city in itself is very attractive, the parks, public and private buildings, broad, well laid out streets, show prosperity everywhere. Roses, calla lilies, violets, carnations and other flowers are always in bloom. The Chautauqua Assembly of the Pacific Coast is held here every summer, in a large Tabernacle built for that purpose, and interesting lectures are given by men of national repute.
The great Quaker poet has here his California namesake, a beautiful town nestling on the lower slopes of the Puente Hills. Here Pio Pico, the last Mexican Governor of California, built a home for his young bride, and here, forty years later, three Quakers decided upon this as the location for a town they had decided to establish. That was fifteen years ago. Now it is a prosperous town of fully six thousand inhabitants. In 1900 it had but one thousand five hundred and sixty inhabitants; in 1902, three thousand; in 1903, six thousand. In the same time bank deposits in the city have increased from $90,000 to $275,000. In the first six months of 1903 more than $90,000 have been invested in buildings; a $12,000 church, two $12,000 school buildings, a $15,000 Odd Fellows Hall, besides scores of beautiful residences. A fire department has been organized, a building erected and an ample equipment secured. The city has been lighted with electricity and 25,000 feet of gas mains have been laid. New $25,000 high school building, a city hall, and a dozen miles of cement sidewalks are not far in the future.
A ride out to Whittier, therefore, cannot fail to be of interest to traveler and stranger. In the Whittier oil fields great activity is manifested, and on the journey one may see some of the finest of orange orchards, walnut groves and field after field of monster "small" fruits, such as blackberries, loganberries and the like. The old Pico Mansion is one of the historic landmarks of the State that all should see. Here also is located the State industrial school for both sexes. Cars run regularly from Depot, Sixth and Main Streets, Los Angeles.
This historical landmark was founded by the Franciscan Fathers Padres Benito Cambon and Angel Somero September 8, 1771, for the purpose of converting the Indians in that territory to the Christian faith. The Indians readily yielded to the teachings of the mission Fathers, at one time there being 1,700 Indians under their supervision at this Mission.
The old Mission structure is substantially built of brick, covered over with adobe as plaster. The walls are from four to six feet thick. To-day one can see it, as of old, standing as a monument to the men who braved death and sacrificed their lives to bring religion to a heathen people. It is one of the best preserved of all the old Missions, and contains many interesting old frescoes, hand carved images and paintings which were brought to this country from Spain.
The old bells, of which originally there were six (at present only four), still chime forth the Angelus, and peal forth their summons to mass. They were brought from Spain and traded for in hides, beeswax and tallow.
Among the numerous attractions is the old Mission Grape Vine, over 100 years old; the cactus hedge and the Campo Santo or old Spanish burial ground.
The Pacific Electric Cars en route to this picturesque spot pass many points of interest to the traveler. Majestic pepper trees line the way.
After leaving the junction of the Pasadena Short Line the Raymond Hotel stands out in bold relief against Mount Lowe, many miles distant. The cars then pass in front of the famous San Gabriel Winery, one of the largest in the world. Visitors are allowed to sample freely of the rare old vintages.
Thence the cars wend their way through the main street of the town of Alhambra, which is noted for its fine villas and fruit products of all kinds. Beautiful villas greet the eye on every hand, and the beauty of the flowers is everywhere;—thence to San Gabriel, the home of the oldest inhabitants of the San Gabriel Valley.
About sixteen years ago an enterprising citizen of Los Angeles, Mr. W. N. Monroe, realizing the beauties and natural advantages of the foothill country, developed water where the town of Monrovia now stands, and laid the foundations of the enterprising city of that name. It stands to-day a marvel of beauty; verdure surrounds you on every hand. The agricultural possibilities that have laid dormant through the ages have been brought to a reality, and this section is now considered one of the richest sections of Southern California.
The new double-track broad-gauge electric line from Los Angeles to Monrovia, eighteen miles long, passes through the famous San Gabriel Valley, with the peaks of the Sierra Madre range, Mount Lowe 6,100; Wilson's Peak, 6,700 feet, and San Antonio 10,000 feet, standing in bold relief against the blue.
Starting from Los Angeles we go over the new Pasadena Short Line to Monrovia Junction, where we turn to the east, the Short Line continuing in a northerly direction to Pasadena. A grand view of the Raymond Hotel, with its dark background of mountains, is to be had as we turn east onto the "Orange Grove Route." This is through orange groves all the way, one may say, for we are riding through all kinds of fruit groves and orchards until Monrovia is reached. Here and there we see stretches of pasture, dotted with live oak trees, with herds of cattle grazing peacefully under their scraggly but picturesque branches. Country roads guarded by tall eucalyptus and graceful pepper trees, wineries and vineyards add to the scene. Passing through the L. J. Rose and Chapman ranches we now enter the famous ranch of the West, BALDWIN'S RANCH.
Arcadia is the station we stop at for Baldwin's ranch. Tallyhos meet the cars, and the nominal price of 50 cents is charged for the drive through the ranch. On this drive all points of interest are visited—the house, winery, race track and stables.
Twenty-five years ago, Mr. E. J. Baldwin, better known as "Lucky" Baldwin, took up land and secured ownership to the vast acreage, now comprising 54,000 acres. It stands, actually a principality in itself, the finest ranch in the West. Time and money have not been spared to beautify the grounds and orchards. The Ranch House is situated in the midst of an immense orange grove, surrounded with artificial lakes and pools, majestic palms and drooping boughs of the weeping willows. Roses are in profusion; giant cacti and stately pines show a contrast of production. The scene challenges description. Nestling under this canopy of beauty is the old Log Cabin, a relic of the early days, and the first house occupied by Mr. Baldwin when the surrounding country was claimed by the greatest land owner of all, the Desert.
At the stables are to be seen the best thoroughbred horses in the West, all with records for their fleetness. The Emperor of Norfolk, a most knowing animal, won the Derby of '89, winning in one race $44,000. This horse won in two years more than any other horse living, winning over $200,000 for his owner.
Cars leave Sixth and Main streets every half hour.