On our way back we meet a picnic party of schoolgirls, who with their teachers have spent the day in the country. They fill the cars with smiles and chat, with flowers in bouquets and garlands, in baskets and by the armful. We are treated to flowers and to beautiful Muscat grapes culled from the vineyards,--enormous bunches and berries almost as large as plums. These grapes are a revelation to me, grown here within the reach of the fogs of the ocean, and irrigated with water from the dam or flume. Verily, I have never seen choicer grapes anywhere, and I am satisfied that they could not be surpassed by any for raisins. What a fertile country this will be when irrigation is better understood and more practiced. Could we but see it when that time comes. RIVERSIDE. There is no place in Southern California where the effects of a close and intelligent study of horticultural matters are so visible as in Riverside. Money alone may build villas and mansions; but the intelligent and ever watchful horticulturist alone can, out of climate, soil, water and capital, produce a Riverside. It is charming beyond description; it must be seen to be realized. The best time to get a full and good view of Riverside is early in the morning, just at sunrise, and there is no better place to view it from than the hill on which the Hotel Rubidoux was to have been built. I arose before sunrise, and struggled up the steep hillside. It well repaid me for the trouble, as few more beautiful views can be had. The whole settlement can be taken in at a glance,--the town close by imbedded in orange groves and vineyards, and the dense verdure of the country stretching for ten miles down the valley, and almost connecting with the yet farther off South Riverside. On the eastern side we see the San Bernardino Mountains, with the “Old Greyback,” and between the mountains and the settlements a lower range of steep hills appear, which in a continuous range either bar the way or like isolated islands shoot boldly up from the mesa land.