And now, looking back as we are whirled away, I find I am repeating those lines from Shelley which so exactly reproduce the picture:

"The earth and ocean seem
To sleep in one another's arms and dream
Of waves, flowers, clouds, woods, rocks, and all that we
Read in their smiles, and call reality."

CHAPTER XIV.

AU REVOIR.

Just as a woman is leaving her friends she ever has the most to chatter about. How can I say au revoir briefly when there is so much more to tell? I so earnestly want to give California en verdad, or in truth. There has been too much bragging from the settlers, as in 1887 the Los Angeles Herald said that "New York would soon be excelled by that city." There is a general desire to surpass all the rest of the world in as many ways as possible, and a general belief that it can easily be done. And visitors have omitted all that was unpleasant, and exaggerated the good points, so that one Californian speaks "of the dancing dervishes of travel, singing insanely from the moment they come to us."

There is so much that is novel in this wonderland that it is hard to keep cool and look at all sides. In 1870 all vegetables and grain were imported. Mr. Webster declared long ago in Congress that California was absolutely worthless except for mining and grazing. The rancheros thought the land only fit for sheep to roam over. Now great train-loads of vegetables and grain leave daily for the East; all the earliest fruit of New York, Boston, and Chicago comes from this State, and ships are carrying all these products to all parts of the world. From north to south the State measures over 800 miles—as far as from New York to Florida—with an area of 189,000 square miles—as much as New England and the Middle States combined, throwing in Maryland. The northern and southern portions are as unlike as Massachusetts and Florida, and the State must soon be divided. How little is known of Northern California! Next year I hope to describe that, with its lofty mountains, wonderful scenery, lakes of rare beauty, immense interests in grain, fruits, and mining. This little bit along the coast is but a minute portion of the whole. I have only followed in the footsteps of the Fathers, and would like to take you to Monterey, where Junipero Serra founded his last mission. Mrs. Stanford has placed a statue of the dear old saint on the shore to honor his life-work. Realizing the size of the State and its capabilities, big stories seem inevitable. As Talleyrand said of Spain, "It is a country in which two and two make five."

Some statements need to be modified. It is declared over and over that here there are no thunderstorms. In the Examiner of May 19th I read: "Santa Rosa was visited by a very severe electrical storm about eleven o'clock last night. The sky was brilliantly illuminated by lightning, and peal after peal of heavy thunder was heard. This was followed by a rain which continued until near morning." A church steeple was struck by lightning and destroyed. This is unusual, but for "never" read "hardly ever." No mad dogs, yet a little terrier I bought in San Francisco to give to a friend had to be shot its first summer on account of rabies. Let us balance matters:

No malaria, but rheumatism.
No cyclones, " wind and sand storms.
No thunderstorms, " earthquakes.
No mad dogs, " rattlesnakes and centipedes, tarantulas and scorpions.
No sunstrokes, " chilling fogs.

All goes when the sun goes. The climate is "outdoors." A sunny room is essential. The difference between noonday and midnight, temperature between sun and shade, is something to be learned and guarded against.