The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, December 25, 1896, Page 27

THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, FRIDAY, DECEMBER 25, 1896. 4 25 4T was Christmas eve in the year 188—, :’;I:ieutenam Saddletree stocd at the window of his Presidio quarters gazing out at the moonlit hilis in a very discon- solate state of mind. He was in love with & charming girl, and the charming girl was in -love with him, but, unfortunately for them both, the father of the young lady had interposed what appeared to Saddletree a fatal bar to their union. This seemed all the more incredible because Lieutenant Saddletree was regarded by id and matron alike as a most desir- partper. Young, handsome, of a well-known San Francisco family (his father, who was now dead, baving been | ong-of the earliest settlers), ‘cellent position in the army, dependent income, what more could be asked in a possible husband? Indeed, if the truth was told, the lieutensnt had gone to Mr. Westicott, the father of h betrothed, with a confidence that bad not the shadow of a misgiving uvon it. the lieutenant’s father Mr. Westicott was one of the ear ttlers of California, but, being a man of reserved habits, the lieu tenant knew him but slightly, having derived a general impression from his visits at the house that he wasan ola- fashioned, gray-haired, mouse-like man, Wwho passed most of his time among his books. interested in the early days oi California, in fact, that it was his hobby. Saddletree also uely recalled having heard some- thing queer in connection with his hobby, nothing dishonorable, for every agreed that Silas Westicott was the soul of honor, but something queer, some old- time feud or misunderstanding with the Bociety of Pioneers, something that the men of those days, no doubt, considered vastly imporiant, but nothing surely that need concern him, Saddietree. the Jieutenant did not give the matter a second thought, his interest in Mr. Westi- cott being confined to his being Kate's father. better acquainted with him he sought Mr. Westicott, as has been said, in all confi- dence and asked him for his daughter’s band. What was his astonishment then, when Mr. Westicott received his communica- tion in a spirit of hostility, courteously | expressed to be sure, but none the less bostility, and safter deploring his blind- | ness and negligence in allowing sucha | state of affairs to come to pass informed | him very emphatically that Mr. Richard | Eaddletree’s son could never with his con- sent marry his daughter. “But why?’ exclaimed the licutenant, for the moment almost dumiounded at | this unexpected reception. “For excellent reasons,” retorted the old gentleman, rather seeming to enjoy his discomfiture. *‘But thisis most extraorain: replied Saddletree, recovering his voil with a touch of anger. “Am I to understand that it is on my father’s account that you refuse me your daughter? B cause, if so, anything that concerns my dead father’s | name has precedence over all affairs of mine, no matter how vital to my happi- ness. Therefore, setting aside for the mo- ment the errand that brought me here, I have the right to ask you to explain your uniriendiy allusion to him.” “You certainly have the right, sir,”” re- plied Mr. Westicott; *1do notdenyit. I am only surprised that you are ignorant of the events to which 1 refer. It is a sore matter with me, nevertheless. to spare you any -expression of my own feeling and give you the facts as briefly as possible.” Then the old gentleman sat fora moment tapping bis library desk with a pencil while his face took on a grim look as his thoughts went back into the past. “No doubt,” he said finally, with an evident effort, ‘‘you have heard some rumors of my first arrival in 8an Francisco. Such tittle tattie often outlives a lifetime of honest endeavor. Indeed, there are men in this City to-day, old residents, who con- sider me a little bit crazy on that point. They will tell you that I came to this City February 10, 1850, whereas, as a matter of fact, I came here the day before Christ- mas, 1849. 1do not refer to those gentle- men forming the Society of California Pioneers, who have denied to so many men as well qualified as themselves the right to join their society on the ground that they did not arrive in California prior to a date arbitrarily set by themselves; who claim that if a man’s foot touched these shores five minutes after midnight of Decemb-r 31, 1849, he was no pioneer. Thank God I can rest easily in my grave without having them trooping - after my coffin. Butthere are men whom I respect and who respect me, men of 49 whom I have the right ana title to meet on this common ground—a inatter of sen- timent you will say, but it is sentiment that makes life worth the living—and I cannot induce these men to believe that I, too, am a ‘forty-niner.’ And who, do you think, robbed me of this privilege?” The old gentleman, whose face and voice denoted increasing excitement, now shook his finger impressively at his perplexed listener, and said: ‘“Your father, sir, your father! Wait!” he added quickly, raising his hand as Saddletree was about to speak, *I have not finished.” Leaning back in his chair he resumed in a tone of ed calmness: *‘On October 20, 1849, I my home in Boston on the ship Silver Moon. We dropped anchor as I tell you in 8an Francisco harbor, or Yerba Buena, asit was then called, December 24, 1849. With me Ibrought letters of introduction 1o certain gentlemen, but principally to a Richard Saddletree from whom I was as- sured I would receive every consideration. Moreover I was the bearer of a sum of money entrusted to me by a mutual iriend to pay off a mortgage held by Richard Saddletree. I went ashore the afternoon of the day we arrived, I met Mr. Saddletree, made an appointment with him for the evening, met him again according to the appointment and paid him the money, I wasreturningto the ship, where I had left my own money and eifects in charge of the purser, who was Like | He had heard that he was much one | Indeed, | So without tarrying to become | I will try | ) A i vz, BY ROBERY 1 9&5 H.FLEVCHER G fl ’%wm i fele of e 5 | ]an acquaintance of mine in Boston, in-l | tending to find a boarding place ashore | the next day, when, God he'p me!” Here | | Mr. Westicott falteringly raised his hand | | to his head with a look of bewilderment, | |*1 suddenly lost consciousness.’” He | | paused for a-moment with his hand over | his eyes, and when he resumed it was in | a subdued voice. “When I came to my- | self I was lying drenched and bruised on | a storm-swept coast. Scme Indians were | caring for me, telling e by signs that | there had been a shipwreck. They took | me to a Mexican town called Aeapulco, | | and here, through the kindness of the resi- dents, I was en a passage on a ship to San Francisco. I arrived here, for the sec- | ond time, v nderstand, for the second time, | | on F 10, 1850. I sought out vour and he—he denied all knowledge of | He denied that I had paid him | denied that he had ever seen me t first when I upbraided him treachery he dared to threaten 1s an impostor, and then he took e in a subterfuge. As it was per-| v plain to any man that I was as sane he preiended to think tbat the | had affected my brain on this | one pointonly. A fine theory, truly, to| e his rascality. Well, sir, alone, a nger in a strange land, I earned the me! money. | before. shipwrec money to pay back the sum I had paid him, and I lived down the blight his false- hood cast upon me. But I never forgave him and I never will. Do you understand: now why you cannot marry my daughter?” Lieutenant Saddletree’s face during the course of this strange narrative was like our summer afternoon sky when the fog begins drifting in—astonishment, anger, resentment and bewilderment rapidly suc- ceeded each other,to be finally replaced by a settled expression of sadness not un- mixed with pity. *“Did you never find any clew,” he said gently, “to account for your condition between December 24 and February 102”7 “No, sir,” replied Mr. Westicott, *‘and you may believe that it was not for lack of | endeavor. Your father was—" not tell you how I regret this unfortunate state of affairs. 1bid you good-afternoon.” “Good God!” thought the lieutenant to himself as he reached the street, ‘‘my poor father was right. He is cortainly crazy.” And he groaned to think how this wretched fancy of a diseased mind had been resurrected out of the dusty past to come between him and his dear love, And in the loneliness of this Christmas eve the recollection of that moment lay like a cold band on his heart, while the vagrant winds that are ever hovering around the Presidio hills sighed as though in sympathy. Of course, he could not tell Kate the true reason of her father’s opposition to their marriage; he simply said that a business difference of long ago bad cre- ated an enmity between his father and hers. She, poor girl, was sure at first that she could reconcile her father, who loved her devotedly and had never refused her anything. But the old gentleman proved obstinate and finally forbade Saddletree the house. This did not prevent the lov- ers meeting occasionally elsewhere, but Kate’s ideas of filial duty and obedience, as well as her p1 ae, made these meetings few and constrained, although her pale cheeks and listless manner told how much the effort cost her. As for Saddletree himself, he had grown thin since that un- bhappy day, and to-night there seemed such a strange weight upon his spirits he wondered if his mind was going to be affected, too. Most of the officers at the post who were not on duty bad gone to a ball in the town, so that he, was quite alone and the silence oppressed him. Lighting his pipe he threw himself into an easy chair before the fire, but gx-nd-l e DAYQg?J(%;" and (hests | irritably : “Pardon me, Mr. Westicott,” inter-|on Clay street, just above Kearny, and rupted Saddletree, rising. ‘There is ro | his first thought was to see if the water need of prolonging this interview. I need | came up to Montgomery street. Yes, ually his pipe went omt and his chin soucht his hand in melancholy reverie. He was finally arouseG by the clock striking twelve. At tbe same moment he heard a movement near the dooranda | draft of cold air chilled his back. Sup- posing it to be some of the merry-makers returning from the town, he called out “For heaven's sake, shut the door, you feliows! Do you want to freeze a man todeath?’ Receiving no reply, be turned around in some surprise and be- held a stranger standing in the middle of the room. He was dressed in a blue cloth roundabout jacketr and dark trousers. On his head was a forage cap and on his heels a pair of Mexican spurs. The figure seemed strangely familiar to the lieuten- ant, although he could not at first deter- mine why. Then suddenly it occurred to him that it must be his father, not his father as he had known him in life, but as he had seen him in a daguerreotype taken in 1819. Moreover, it seemed to Saddle- tree that bis arrival was not altogether | unexpected; that, in fact, he had been waiting for him all the evening. His | spirits seemed instantly relieved of their | dull depression and hi$ mind grew bright and clear. Nor did he feel any sense of alarm or astonishment, but when the ap- parition beckoned him he took up hiscao and followed as though it was the most natural proceeding possible. | Two horses were fastened to the hiich- ng post outside, one of which tbe lieu- tenant saw was his own. They mounted, and as they rode away Sadaletree observed that it was no longer night, but afternoon, THE APPARITION. and that the buildings at the post were not the same that he knew, but were of adobe and in a dilapidated condition, and furthermore that the road they traversed led through a desolate, sandy waste in- stead of the well-kept re-ervation to which he was accustomed. Swiitly and silently they galloped on until they entered the town, but this too had changed into a scattering village of rude houses and tents which the lieutenant recognized as San Francisco only from its resemblance to certain old prints that he had seen. They dismounted before a frame building bear- ing a sign, “R. Saddletree & Co.,” and which the lieutenant had no difficulty in recollecting from the descriptions he had heard a thousand times at home as his father’s place of business. It was situated there it was, rippling over ashingly beach but little more than a block away, and no Montgomery street to speak of. A man passed by selling papers, and Saddletree for 25 cents obtained the California Star, which informed him that it was the day before Christmas in the year 1849, Leaving their horses he and his com- panion now passed with dream-like tacil- ity throush the busy scene, where pic- turesquely dressed men from all parts of the world, afoot and on horseback, came and went through the ill-paved, rat-in- fested streets, litterea with tents and mer- chandise, bearing every sign of noise, yet as silent as a picture. Descending to-ihe beach they beheld a small bark which had recently come to anchor in the bay, and from its side a boat was leaving for the shore. As its bow grated on the sand a man of about 30 years of age, dressed in a blue coat of the kind known as a swal- low-tail, ornamented with brass buttons and a high velvet collar, tight pantaloons and a broad brimmed beaver hat, stepped ashore. In tuis personage Saddletree recognized Silas Westicott, not as he knew him to be sure, the father of Kate, but Mr. Westicott as he was when a young man; in fact Mr. Westicott as he was when bhe landed from the bark Silver Moon on the day before Christmas in the year 1849. As this thought occurred to him the lientenant looked at his father in surpriged inquiry, whereupon the ghost gravely nodded its head. Mr. Westicott gazed about him and then approached a man who, with a [at, black cigar between his teeth, had with other idlers gathered to watch the ship. He ap- peared to question this man and then the two plowed their way through ihe sand toward Monrtgomery street, followed by Saddletree and his companion. Threud- ing their way through the shanties and piles of lumber which occupied the de- clivity, they entered a room furunished in rough semblance of an office, situated on the upper floor of a two-story frame buiid- ing. Here Mr. Westicott’s conductor left him and. after about a quarter of an hour’s absence, returned accompanied by a man who bore such a close resemblance to Mr. Richard Saddletree in face and dress, in fact in everything except the eyes, which were sinister and ili favorea, that the lieu- tenant felt that under any other circum- stances he must have been astonished at 8o striking a likeness. The stranger very cordially shook hands with Mr. Westicott and, after a long and friendly conversa- tion, that gentleman findlly took his de- parture for the beach, the other two bow- ing him ont with every demonstration of respect. No sooner had he gone, how- ever, than they looked at each other and burst into a fit of laughter: It was evening when Mr, Westicott’s boat again touched the beach and he climbed through the sand tothe frame house, The two men were there before him, impatiently awaiting his arrival. They greeted him with concealed joy and seating themselves at the table talked together forsome time, Mr. Westicott with guileless pleasantry and the two men fever- ishly, with furtive glances at each other. Finally certain papers of a legzal form were produced, Mr. Westicott placed npon the table a sum of money which was greedily counted by the others, then the papers were signed and handed to him. He arose and, as before, the men bowed him to the door. But when be nad de- parted they engaged in what seemed a violent discussion, one urging and tie other protesting, till suddenly the one re- sembling Richard Saddleiree broke from his companion and drawing from bis pocket a something, whicn the lieutenant knew to be a sandbag, he swiftly followed Mr. Westicott in the gathering darkness. Overtaking him in a bollow, a lonely.spot away from the lights of town, he r_sloln upon him from behind and dealt him a blow on the back of his head that dropped him like & sack of wheat. Quickly taking the papers from his pocket and robbing | him of his watch and purse his assailant slunk back to the house. Having witnessed this scene with the calmness of one solving a problem, Sad- dletree saw the night disappear and dawn As the sun rose, come, cold and gray. Mr. Westicott stirred and feebly got upon his feet. Putting his hand to his head, bhe stared around and then staggered toward the beach. Here he sat down and waited until presently a boat came from the ship and into this he climbed and when it went back he went with it and Saadletres and his companion accom- panied him. Aboard the ship he moved about apparently the same as when he had landed, but the lieutenant under- stood that the murdercus blow had robbed him of all mind and memory except for the actual present. His friend the purser detected the change, but without having a clew to it he advised the captain to let Mr. Westicott remain aboard the bark until they sailed for the isthmus, which they purposed doing in a few days, and then send the unfortunate gentleman back to his friends by the first ship that left Pan- ama. So, hastening their departure on account of the desertion of the crew, the Bilver - Moon within a week stood out through the Golden Gate. Again the scene changed and Saddletree with the shade at his side found himself standing on the ship’s deck in a storm at sea off the Mexican coast—a storm none the less terrible for being noiseless. The lightning smote the biack, scurrying clouds, the rain and spray fought fiercely in the air, while the wind flattened the crests of the seas as they rose and toppled upon the ship in solid walls of water, crushing the fabric until beaten asunder it fell apart and sank beneath their feet. He watched.the men drown as in a panto- mime; he saw Mr. Westicott struck by a falling mast, entangled in the rigging, swept overboard and finally cast high upon the shore without an effort, while ‘many a bold swimmer sank to his death. He saw him cared for by the natives and regain his consciousness, not in part as it was before the wreck, but completely—the later shock, as is not infrequent 1n such cases, having undone the harm inflicted by the blow of the sand club. Further- more, Saddletree saw the only boat that escaped irom the sinking bark twice over- turned and eaci time righted again, until only the purser and one sailor remained, and they, drifting down the coast, were at last picked up by a2 New Bedford whaling ship homeward bound. Then again the scene changed and the lieutenant found himself in his quarters at the Presidio once more. He was kneel- ing before the shadowy form of his father, which was wavering and growing indis. tinet, while its eyes gazed wistfully into his. And he heard hju ©WA voice crying out imploringly: *‘Oh, father, I under- stand. You have righted the wrong you innocently did and have saved my happi- ness. I thankyou from the bottom of my beart! Bat stay yet a moment, These impostors—this scoundrel who imper sonated you, where can I find hm? And the purser—" As ne spoke the ghost raised his hand, and at the same moment a scene so dirly outlined that through it the lieutenant saw the familiar objects of his room ap- peared before him. It represented the in= terior of a stone cell occupied by a gray- haired, decrepit man, who sat upon a bench with his chin on his hand and hi§ elbows on his knees, mumbling his skinny fingers as he stared into vacancy, with feeble, malevolent old eyes. And not without great effort, as one who can scarcely remember, did the lieutenant finally comprehend that .this was the penitentiary at Sing Sing, N. Y., and that the prisoner’s number was 247. Then the vaporous picture slowly dis- appeared, and with it seemed to disap- pear the figure of his father, but again the latter appeared, and with it a scene so vague as 1o be scarcely decipherable. It seemed like a street and the frontof a house bearing a sign, but, struggle as he would, the licutenant could only guess at | the name inscribed upon it, so faint were the letters and so mingled with the arti- cles on his mantelpiece. Asfor the name of the town, the impression was conveyed that it was in New England, but before he could learn more the scene grew fainter aud fainter, despite his efforts to retainit: fainter, too, grew the form of his father. Finally, with one desperate, superhuman struegle to understand ere it was too late, the lieutenant awoke to hear the clear notes of the bugle sounding reveille. R O T S T That day Lieutenant Saddletree applied for a leave ofabsence. Without divalging the hopes awakened 1n him by his singular experience of the night before he took an affectionate farewell of his betrothed and startea East. For three months he patiently followed the clews given him and then turned a joyful face homeward, bearing the affida- vit of Phineas Barker, purser of the Silver Moon, and th- sworn statement of John Bludgon, alias a great many other badly tainted names, setting forth the facts in the case of Silas Westicott, all as they had been delineated for him on that memora- ble Christmas eve. As may be imagined, the hero of these events, Mr. Westicott himself, was over- joyed at having his position so signally upheld. When the papers were read be- fore a meeting of the Society of Pioneers they created a great sensation and Mr. Westicott was unamimously elected, amid much enthusiasm, a member of that or- ganization. His gratitude to Licutenant Saddletree for thus freeing him from what had been the nightmare of his life knew no bounds. He retracted and apologized for the unkind words he had uttered about his father and lovingly bestowed upon the young officer his beautiful Kate. More- over, the old gentleman took great pleas- ure after the wedding in letting it be known that with the exception of a cer- tain sum beaueathed to the Society of Pio- neers as a mark of the high estimation in which he held that honorable body, he had made Kate and her husband his heirs to all the properiy he had accumulated since the days of '49. The Going Forth. Now far along the darkened sward The winter snow is white. I will go forth to meet my Lord And welcome Him to-night. The solemn stars in heayen wait; The swaying sea is dim. I will go out beyond my gate . And find my way to Him, In lighted fanes the choirs of praise Lift up their anthem sweet. Iwill go forth along the ways To find and clasp His feet. Across my hearth the night winds moan: My doors are opened wide. Into the night I pass alone To find my Christmastide. —Mabel Earle in Harper’s Bazat. The chiff wheve more sea birds are said to build their nests in any other place in the world is on the coast of Norway. It is 1000 feet high, and goes by the name of Svoerheltklubben. Kittiwakes have built their nests of bent and seaweed for ages in icnumerable quantities. —_——— One of the principal occupations of jewelers in the cities and towns of Chili and Peru is making gold crowns, set with precious stones, for the heads of images in churches and cathedrals. They usually are adorned by weg!thy women, who thus pay homage to the saints. e E FLOWERS IN FIELDS OF ICE 222220200000 2229292099 the Arctic circle life, both animal and floral, exists only in the rarest forms. Generally, it is believed, when the mantel | of snow and ice begins to form and the long, dark nights of winter overshadow the vast area incloded in the frozen zones that life, except for an occasional vagrant tribe of Esquimaux, ceases to exist, hav- ing-emigrated to lowerand more congenial latitudes. This is true only in part. | There does exist certain forms of animal life that can only live and have their being | in a temperature that 1s fatal to man if he ever exposed himself to it. These creatures find the same enjoyment in living tnat beasts and birds do in our own latitude, and exposure to the temperature common | to us would be just as fatal as theirs would ET is a common impression that within be if species common to our zone were transported to a region where snow is pe:- S R M N - -\\\\\\\\\\‘,‘ N\ \\\\\.}k 223 T\ N i petual and the temperature sinks so low that the common instruments in use can- not record it. For months the stillness of a long night reigns at the poie and the world sleeps. But when ‘summer comes the scene is chenged. The ice and snow disappear and the siléence of winter is replaced by an activity among animated existence thatis nowhere surpassed on the globe. The air is filled with myriads of birds who find in the far north the breeding-places which nature designed for them and to which an unerring instinct prompts a yearly return. They discover in the vast wastes, which have sprung into life under the influence of a hot sun and a long day, stores of wild rice and celery in such abundance as would feed all the birds in the universe. Here they breed and hatch their young and here they remain until approaching winter warns them to seek a milder clime. But it is in the richness of the flora of the Arctic that excites most the astonish- ment of the traveler to the far north. Such variety, such remarkable delicacy of form and color as the Arctic flowers dis- play cannot be equaled by those of lower latitudes. Where the bouquet was gath- ered is only a few degrees lower than the Arctic circle on anisland of Bering Sea. In midsummer the sun shines for twenty out of twenty-four hours of the day. ‘When the ice and snow disappears in June the grass and flowers spring up with won- derful rapidity and cover the ground in the richest profusion. Species unknown in our latitudes abound and add blossoms of the utmost beauty to other plants which have been transplanted to the far north from our own clime. In the picture of an Arctic bouquet there will be seen monks- hood, mouse-ear, chickweed, aster, anem- one, the lady fern, claytonia and lupine, and these fail to give any idea of the num- bers of species or luxuriousness of growth of the floral beauties which flourish on the bleak frozen island from which this collection was plucked. Windows Made of Gloth. Windows of cloth instead of glass sounds like an impossibility, and yetitis a real- ity, and the employment of such a substi. tute is an acknowledged success. It is not ordinary cloth, but such &s is transluceut, through which light comes as through glass. To all intents and purposes this cloth window is similar to the sheets of glass and lasts ever so much longer while still having just as good an appearance. Now, the remarkable feature of this new fabric is that 1t never leaks, does not break, and is nearly a tiird cheaper than glass. A large skylight composed of tie new substitute for glass, which has been in constant use long enough to show lis worth, remains in perfect condition, not a cent having been spent on it for repairs. The material has many advantages ciaimed for it, ehief of which is that by its employment in tramsheds, freighthouses, large auditoriums and public buitdings having skylights of large area the light weight of tbe material permits of a sim- ple, inexpensive and light form of sky- light construction. The joints are made water-tight by a special method used with this material The translucent fabric consists of trans- parent material spread over steel wire cloth, with twelve meshes per inch, which gives the panels a flexible and elastic quality, permitting its adjustment to any shape that the roof structure may take, owing to the expansion or contraction of the framework. The fabrig is strong and is made in panels 18x36 inches in size, and can carry a weight of over 400 pounds per square foot. It might naturally be assumed that the translucent gualities of the fabric would be much inferior to that of glass, but a careful comparison has shown that the amount of light which it transmits equals that of ribbed glass one-quarter of an inch thick, As it is treated with a special preparation the fabric is imper- vious to cinders, or hot coals dropped upon it, and will burn only when set fire to at the edges. Even then the flames make slow progress, thus furnishing timely warning. Another argument in its favor is that it is greatly superior to even the finest glass asa covering for art galleries and studious, for the reason thatit will not leak and therefore serves as a perfect pro- tection to the valuable works of art. Some- times a heavy deposit. of snow serves to crack the strongest glass skylight, and often injures paintings and tapestries be- yond restoration.—New York Journal. —_———— The longest Egy ptian railway now ex- tends to Girgeh, 326 miles from Cairo. 1uis soon to be extended to the first cata- ract, 710 miles from the coast. This means of course, an ultimate railway connection with the British possessions in South Africa. ————— 1n the conntry districts, both of England and Gemany, there is an idea thatif the bees swarm upon a rotten tree there will be a death in the family owning or living on the property before the expiration of twelve months. Indiana produces 130,000,000 bushels of corn, 40,000,000 of wheat, 46,000,000 of oats, and over 1,000,000 tons of timothy. It has 10,000,000 fruit trees, bearing 36,000,000 bushels of apples and 4,000,000 bushels of peaches. B — The Egyvptians used pencils of colored chalk, and several of these ancientcrayons have been found in their tombs, GATHERING WILDFLOWERS O.NACHKIST.MHS. C0990922222922229292222222222929.222998 ‘ M TEITEETVVO0 0 Ty 220999 have always recognized this aspect of th1s joyous season until in popular estimation Christmas is not complete unless the EO people of northern latitudes the season of Christmas is invariably associated with snow and ice. Poets and painters snow lies heavy on the ground and frost pervades ihe winter's air. or Christmas it will be found necessary to ascend the high peaks of the Sierrasin order to attain his desires. In. California, if one wants these cold collaterals Down in the ordinary altitudes a snowy Christmas was never known. The view represents a party on Christmas ¢ay gathering wild flowe ers on the Berkeley hills. A warm genial sun is shining and the profusion of floral blossoms is marvelous. A winter’s day on Berkeley hills is something that no Easterner can realize. An actual experience of the lovely scene is necessary and for that a journey to the coast will afford it.