spaces between the vines, as far as we can see, are almost covered with continuous rows of trays, all loaded with Muscat grapes in all stages of drying. We travel constantly eastward; on both sides are raisin vineyards, large and small. The four hundred acres owned by the Fresno Vineyard Company are devoted to wine grapes, and large wineries and cellars built of adobe show the wealth and extensive business of the place. No vacant land anywhere, nothing but vineyards, the only breaks being groves of trees shading the homes, wine cellars or packing-houses of the proprietor. Farther to the north lies in an unbroken row the well-known Eisen vineyard, where the first raisins were made in this district, but where now principally wine is produced; the Nevada and Temperance Colonies, devoted mostly to raisins; the Pew, the Kennedy, the Forsyth, Woodworth’s, Duncan’s, Goodman’s and Backman’s raisin vineyards, all splendidly cared for and lined by fig trees. Of these the Forsyth vineyard deserves more than a passing notice, as it is more inviting to an hour’s rest than any other. Containing 160 acres, nearly all in vines, it is one of the best properties of the county. The place shows an uncommon taste and refinement, and is beautified by avenues of poplars and magnolias, by groves of acacia and umbrella trees, by palms and flowers, and by roses and climbing plants. A pond with its lilies, overhung by weeping willows and shaded by stately elms, is an unusual sight even in this county of abundant irrigation. The packing-houses and dryer all display a taste and practical arrangement hardly seen elsewhere. A climb to the top of the tank-house is well worth the trouble. The view becomes wonderfully enlarged; we overlook the level plains, all in vines, with houses and groves scattered about like islands in a sea,--no wild, unbroken country anywhere. In the distance is Fresno City, to the north the view is hemmed in by new vineyards and colonies,--a mass of trees and vines in straight and regular rows. The courteous owner conducts us through his packing-house and shows us how the bunches are placed in layers and carefully made to fit every corner in the box, how the boxes are covered with papers and artistic labels and finally made ready for the market. As we pass out we get a glimpse of the equalizing room, crowded to the ceiling with sweatboxes, in which the raisins assume an even and uniform moisture. And what luscious bunches they are, large, sweet, thin skinned and highly flavored. Malaga produces nothing better, and much not as good. And, when we are all through tasting and admiring, we are invited into the cosy and artistically furnished dwelling, where in the cool shade the lunch and the rest are as welcome and interesting as the vineyards and packing-houses outside.