called the Lily Range.

After climbing about a thousand feet above the plain I came to a
picturesque mass of rock, cropping up through the underbrush on one of
the steepest slopes of the mountain. After examining some tufts of
grass and saxifrage that were growing in its fissured surface, I was
going to pass it by on the upper side, where the bushes were more
open, but a company composed of the two lilies I have mentioned were
blooming on the lower side, and though they were as yet out of sight,
I suddenly changed my mind and went down to meet them, as if attracted
by the ringing of their bells. They were growing in a small, nestlike
opening between the rock and the bushes, and both the erythronium and
the fritillaria were in full flower. These were the first of the
species I had seen, and I need not try to tell the joy they made.
They are both lowly plants,--lowly as violets,--the tallest seldom
exceeding six inches in height, so that the most searching winds that
sweep the mountains scarce reach low enough to shake their bells.

The fritillaria has five or six linear, obtuse leaves, put on
irregularly near the bottom of the stem, which is usually terminated
by one large bell-shaped flower; but its more beautiful companion, the
erythronium, has two radical leaves only, which are large and oval,
and shine like glass. They extend horizontally in opposite
directions, and form a beautiful glossy ground, over which the one
large down-looking flower is swung from a simple stem, the petals
being strongly recurved, like those of Lilium superbum. Occasionally a
specimen is met which has from two to five flowers hung in a loose
panicle. People oftentimes travel far to see curious plants like the
carnivorous darlingtonia, the fly-catcher, the walking fern, etc. I
hardly know how the little bells I have been describing would be