There never was a more pleasing sight than their uneven profile
sharply drawn against the grayish purple. Watch them as they gradually
assume shape out of the decreasing shadows. The blotches of green and
brown take form and grow into cañons and gullies, rocks and towers,
domes and minarets. What a place to build a mosque, and say one's
prayers to the rising sun!

Near the Greek Theater, which pushes its vast amphitheater into the
heart of the hills, winds a cañon, not large and imposing, but very
beautiful. It is called by some, after the policy of the University of
California, through whose domain it runs, "Co-ed Cañon"; by others,
from the abundance of charming blossoms and luscious fruit found upon
its rugged sides, "Strawberry Cañon." But "What's in a name?" By any
other it would be as pleasing.

Trees, gnarled and twisted, reach out their arms across the little
brook that sings merrily at the bottom. Far into the hills it pushes
its winding way, and one must needs scramble over many a fallen tree
and mossy rock in following its beautiful path.

One cannot see very far ahead, but at each succeeding turn in the
trail new wonders open before us. Here it is so narrow we are
compelled to walk in single file, while just beyond it broadens out
into a grassy slope, and through an open vista on the right we get a
glimpse of Old Grizzly looming up in all its grandeur. To the left,
far above us on the hillside, we can see a large cement "C" some
thirty feet in length, placed there by the students of the university
to commemorate hotly contested games of football between the two
colleges. With what jealous care is it watched over on the eve of a
battle to keep the contesting team from painting it with their college