THE CLIMATE
about San Francisco is peculiar. The average maximum temperature for twenty-two years has been 62 and the minimum 51 degrees, a variation of only eleven degrees. The January temperature, for those years, has been 50 and for June 59 degrees. The last and the first three months of each year are the rainiest—only about 67 rainy days in the year. The people wear the same outer garments the year round. Ice and snow are seldom seen. The fogs make it an undesirable place for people with pulmonary troubles.
I have missed many things of great interest. Back of my brother's house, upon Mount Tamalpais, is the "crookedest railroad in the world." It doubles back on itself five times, forming a double bow knot. But for the fogs, I should have enjoyed the trip where the finest view in all the country may be had.
[Chapter Three]
Los Angeles; "Seeing Los Angeles"; The return; The pit; The Mirage; Old Fort Yuma; Religious matters; Baptists; An interesting occurrence; The pastors' conference; California College; One serious question.
ONE who travels and observes could write letters indefinitely about what he sees and hears, but the question is: "How long will the readers stand it?" Just what to write about and when to stop, are perplexing questions, but I must close with this letter. Besides a day in Oakland and Berkeley, where the State University is located, and a short run on a railroad to San Quinten, all my sight-seeing was done in San Francisco. There are over half a million people in and around that city. Probably 350,000 in San Francisco; Oakland Alameda, Berkeley and several other towns across the bay, practically one city, have over one hundred thousand more. Just two weeks was the length of my stay thereabouts. Everybody was very kind to give advice to the traveler, some of which he took—if he had taken it all, he would have been gone a year or more. Before I left, on the way, and about San Francisco, I was told I must not return without seeing