of the author, Charles Warren Stoddard, who writes vividly of the 50's that spirited period following the more poetic regime of Spanish rule on the Pacific coast. At heart, Stoddard is still an ardent Californian, and the stirring events that made the Golden State famous during his youth are portrayed with delightful candor. The volume is dedicated to the author's father, "Samuel Burr Stoddard, for half a century a citizen of San Francisco." Here the author came on a memorable voyage, "back in 1855, when San Francisco, it may be said, was only six years old." He refers with naivety to his earliest sport-chasing goats that browsed on Telegraph hill. To North Beach and the Seal Rocks was a weary trudge over endless sand dunes. "Black point," he declares with enthusiasm, "was a wilderness of beauty to us." A mysterious Vigilance Committee dispensed justice in those days. He recalls its famous doings, and the pride that centered in an extraordinary fire company made up of the jeunesse doré of the town; San Francisco's representative citizens were among its members. Society lived on Rincon hill overlooking South Park, the multum in parvo of a prodigal metropolis. The author regrets the vanishing glory of those fast-fading environs. "What dignity they once conferred "In the Footprints of the Padres," by Charles Warren Stoddard. A. M. Robertson, San Francisco; $1.50. upon the favored few who basked in the sunshine of their prosperity." And How are the mighty fallen! The hill, of course, had the farthest to fall-a cross street was lowered a little and it leaped the chasm in an agony of wood and iron. The gutting of this hill cost the city the fortunes of sev eral contractors, and it ruined the hill forever. I had sported on the green with the goats of goatland ere ever the stately mansion had been dreamed of, and it was my fate to set up my tabernacle one day in the ruins of a house that even then stood upon the order of its going-it did go impulsively down that "most unkindest cut," the Second street chasm. Even the place that once knew it has followed after. The author's felicitous narrative is not limited to San Francisco. He revives the celebrated case of Thelwell vs. Yelverton, the triumphant suit of a remarkable woman. Incidentally it brings out an adventure of Yosemite and some of that valley's magnificent autumn and winter scenes. A pleasing chapter is devoted to Monterey. "A dear old stupid town," says he, "in my day." That later on "fell into the hands of Croesus and straightway lost its identity." To Mrs. Atherton, among all American authors, he awards the palm of having written best of "the life that was a mixture of Gringo and diluted Castilian." Several half-tone illustrations of the missions and other California landmarks are delightfully reminiscent, and the book is strikingly bound in chrome and soft grays. HENRIETTA H. WILLIAMS. Romance is dead, say you? Not so. In disproof, there comes sailing into fic THE "SHIP OF DREAMS," BY LOUISE FORSSLUND tion "The Ship of Dreams," manned by the pirate father and seven stalwart brothers of the Little Red Princess. "The light that never was on sea or land" shines all about her, yet she hails from no more fabulous port than the shores of old Long Island. only to the sober second thought. It is Improbable? I grant you that, but to our first wild thought that romance stands or falls. Does the glamour make your head swim with the rhythm of the "The Ship of Dreams." By Louise Forsslund. Harper & Brothers, publishers, New York. BOOKS AND WRITERS ship? If it does, if you believe until you lay down the book, you may bring to the tribunal what sober second thought you can muster; but you will have trouble to get your sea head level for judgment. For the Little Red Princess of the Ship of Dreams is of the kin of Lorna Doone and Babbie the Egyptian, to whom the sober second thought says nothing, and wisely; they dwell safe in the realm of faery, untouchable by the spell-dissolving tests of realism. Yet that sober second thought will have food for sustenance in the stuff of which this dream fabric is builded, materials differing little from the materials of real ships. On the Long Island beach we find the Princess, one of a family of outcasts who live by constant raid on the estates of an old family under their curse the curse of humanity's misused inheritance of passion. The Princess rules her pirate clan with unquestioned sway, and her red robes seem but part of the constitution by which she differs 559 from the commonplace world about her, a world of working and thieving, bargaining and scheming, hating and loving. A world, too, of beauty, of sandy stretches and deep forest shadows: Old Neck Road! Surely you have not changed much in fifty years! You still seem to be shut in by meadows and forests far from the strife and the life of the outside world. No one has felled one single tree in your double line of old black oaks; no one has planted new-fangled flowers in your oldfashioned boxwood gardens; you still smell of piney woods and rich, dark earth, of freshcut grass, of roses and lilacs. The woof of romance that sets this story above the commonplace is woven upon a warp of realism so definite that the threads can be counted and verified, yet they do not disturb the illusion. The sordidness of the common people, the yet deadlier sordidness of the so-called high life, form a constant foil to her dream that but deepens its vitality and beauty. Even under the glare of New York lights, her colors glow the brighter, and she is MUSICE STORE. STATIONERY ATTRACTIVE DISPLAY OF SUNSET POSTERS AND MAGAZINES AT SANTA CRUZ, CALIFORNIA SUNSET MAGAZINE no less the Princess for her rough disillusioning. For its color, character and dialect alone the book is worthy a place in our national gallery of local literature. The rooted-in-the-soil denizens of Long Island, Cuss Fanning, God's Puppy, Mad Nancy, with her sad mania for rings; Old Gol, Pernealy B. and Daddy Danes, walk straight from life into-dreamland. WILMETTA CURTIS. "At Vespers in Tokio," by Joaquin Miller, fills the leading place in the present number of SUNSET. This poem, written by the author shortly after his return from Japan, is one of the longest and best of his works. It was deemed fitting by the author that the poem should be given first to the public through the medium of SUNSET, the one American magazine nearest to the island empire-the land of the rising sun. The International Railway Journal for March is brimful of information and interest for the traveling public and those concerned in transportation matters. In its travel department are announcements of low rates recently established to encourage settlers; also a description of the Overland Limited, which runs between Chicago and San Francisco. In "Something About the Chicago and Northwestern" it gives a short history of the growth of this road from the time, in 1848, when it was only ten miles in length and carried the first shipment of grain by rail to Chicago. The history of this line is largely a history of railroad development in the west. Prospective visitors to California will find the "California Folder," recently issued by the passenger department of the Michigan Central Railway, of great value in mapping out their trip. Designed primarily to show the intending tourist that the grand scenery of the mountain ranges of the west and the ever-delightful resorts of California, may be reached quickly, conveniently and with entire comfort via the lines of the Niagara Falls route (Michigan Central Railway), which it does by giving the through time via every line running from Chicago to the Pacific coast, with maps and all other needed information, all conveniently arranged, it goes on to picture with pen and camera in seventeen pages of carefully written matter, finely illustrated by half-tones from photographic views, the grandeur and surpassing beauty of the places to be visited. It contains also a good topographical map of California, which is itself of great value to one not familiar with the geography of this state. Interesting from cover to cover is Charles F. Carter's "Some Byways of California." He deals with the fast disappearing past of the west-the past that knew Spanish ruleand he has wisely avoided telling the tales Edward H. Mitchell, of San Francisco, has issued a series of souvenirs of California consisting of books of pressed wild flowers, an excellent collection of famous views bound in cloth, and a set of artistic colored post cards. One of the most readable books of its kind and artistic, too, in mechanical make-up and treatment, is "San Francisco and Thereabout," by Charles Keeler, of Berkeley. It is published by the California Promotion Committee, from the press of the Stanley-Taylor Company. The volume consists of a series of essay studies dealing with the varied phases of life in San Francisco, past and present, but chiefly present. This city that faces what Joaquin Miller calls "the Balboa sea,' sesses peculiar charms, resulting from its pospopulation of many races, its climate and its place on the map. It possesses also today an indefinable something in its atmosphere that means Go-ahead, something that is drawing from the east and the north and the south, elements that promise surely to build here speedily one of the world's greatest cities. All of this Mr. Keeler makes clear, and many excellent reproductions of artistic photographs give additional charm to the volume. The cover by Louise Keeler shows marked originality in design and execution. A volume that all the lovers of literature should possess is the complete poetical works of Joaquin Miller, recently published by the Whitaker & Ray Company, of San Francisco. This virile writer, the music of whose words has won its way to the hearts of critics the world over, here adds notes to many of his verses, telling the why and wherefore of each and incidentally giving chapters of adventure that make stirring reading. These notes, in fact, are so entertaining that the wonder is the publishers did not present them in larger type that admirers of the poet might as readily be entertained by his prose, as they are sure to be charmed by the musical swing of his poetry. Sunset Rays The West: A Toast When men shall name the lands they love, Then let me simply say: "The West!" Boast, Briton, of thy forests old, And I'll discount their glories-aye Uplift the toasting glass and say: "The land I love, my friends, The West!" How wide thy plains, my noble West! How grand thy rivers sweeping far; How tow'r thy mountain peaks snow-drest And nobler than the great Alps are! What cities thunder on the plain, What cities roar beside the sea, And what a grand immensity Broods over thy unbound domain ! And this is mine-I hail from here- With love for all within my breast. A toast from me for lands loved best. If I shall from my seat arise And proudly say, with smiling eyes: "My friends, The West!" -Elwyn Hoffman. San Francisco Chronicle-In the February SUNSET is given, perhaps, the most complete account that has yet been written of the laying of the transpacific cable, by Earl Ashley Walcott, with a large number of beautiful pictures from photographs by Weidner, Dana and others. Mr. Walcott has given, in a few pages, a picturesque account of John W. Mackay's plans for the cable, and of the way the son carried out the father's purposes. Wells Drury tells some good anecdotes of Mackay's generosity, especially that of his provision for old Dan de Quille, the Comstock reporter, whom he sent to Florida and maintained for a year before the newspaper man died. J. Torrey Connor describes some "California Winter Gardens," with pictures of attractive places, from San Juan Capistrano to San Jose. The most noteworthy article in the number is "On the Tip-Top of the United States," an account of an ascent to the summit of Mount Whitney by Theodore H. Hittell. The mountain is 14,898 feet in height, the loftiest peak in the United States outside of Alaska. The party included John Muir and his two daughters and Dr. Henry Gannett, the geographer of the United States Geological Survey. The paper is finely illustrated from photographs. Other well illustrated papers are "The Santiam of Oregon," by Caspar W. Hodgson, and "California Women's Clubs," by Elizabeth Murray. Edmund Mitchell furnishes a short article on "Winter at Palm Springs," which gives a sympathetic account of an ideal winter resort on the fringe of the Colorado desert, 100 miles east of Los Angeles. I Love Thee The zephyrs wafting o'er the fields The robins woo, with orphic strains, But I who bring my tale to thee -Jessamine Anderson. Songs Without Words The chord that thrills the singer's brain, Is that which takes him back again The melodies, divine and sweet, Which permeate his brain, Are not the ones he can repeat Unto the world again. The kiss, of all love's kisses best, The word-far sweeter than the word That any love has spoken Is one whose calm is never stirredBy utterance unbroken. The words within the poet's soul If pen could e'er transcribe the whole, "Twould move the world to tears. SUNSET MAGAZINE The madd'ning perfume hid within Is sweeter far, than that the wind The prayers our anguished lips ne'er frame When June with all its golden flame -Jessie Juliet Knox. The Whistling Owl "Talking of trains and their names," said a Montecito gentleman, notes the Santa Barbara, California, News, "let me tell you of a little incident that happened recently over my way. You know my home is well up on the frostless belt in the Montecito. Back of us tower the everlasting hills, clad in their natural verdure of chaparral. It is really very beautiful, but, by night, rather lonesome to a person unaccustomed to such a life. "I had gone to bed rather early on the night I have in mind and gotten right down to solid sleep. Then, suddenly, I awake. For I heard strange noises. By carewas wide ful listening I soon became aware that the noises came from two different creatures, similar, in a measure, yet unlike. "Whoo-whoo-whoo,' one would go, only to be answered by a deeper and apparently more distant 'whoo-whoo-whoo!' "Those calls and answers were kept up for fully five minutes, and then I tumbled to the whole story. "A night train was passing the Montecito valley, the engineer imitating the call of the owl as nearly as possible. He succeeded so well that a real, patriarchal owl was deceived, and was giving his responsive hoot after each blast. "I was a bit nervous at first, but then the truth dawned upon me. concluded that the 'owl train' had been well I laughed aloud and imitated and the engineer was on to his job in so closely imitating the bird's call that gave that train its name. I also made up my mind that a whole heap more thought had been given to the detail of the real 'Owl train' by the Southern Pacific people than I had heretofore imagined." A Romance of the Sunset Fate sat in section No. 8, I sat across in No. 9 And feasted on her beauty rare, I thought her sweet and most divine. "Fate chose a pretty guise," said I. "I am in love with Fate," I said. And thus we met-sweet Fate and IUpon the Sunset Limited. Inland Printer, Chicago, for March-SUNSET, issued by the Southern Pacific Company, San Francisco, California, vies with the best of the popular magazines in literary quality, in general interest and in the attractive designs, illustrations and typography. A feature of the magazine is the appropriate illustrative and decorative headings to the contributions. One is used to introduce an interesting article on the thrasher bird of California in the December issue. Reproductions of watercolor sketches in two tones give life and interest to the number. The front cover shows old Santa Claus bearing a burden of roses instead of the traditional pack of toys, suggesting the more balmy climate of California at the time when northern regions are under a mantle of snow. From a typographical point of view SUNSET is beyond criticism. In the bottom of the sea a pearl was born; -M. E. G. SUNSET, a monthly magazine characteristic of the west, is published by the Passenger Depart ment, Southern Pacific, 4 Montgomery street, San Francisco, California. a copy. For sale by all newsdealers. Advertising rates given on application. Subscriptions received by all agents of the Southern Pacific. |