MAY 17.

CATCHING A SWORDFISH.

The swordfish was not disturbed by reflections of any kind. Of an uncertain and vicious temper it was annoyed, then maddened by being held by something it could not see, and dropping into the water it dashed away in blind fear and fury, still feeling the strange, uncanny check which seemed to follow it as a sheet of foam. Cutting the water one hundred, two hundred feet, it shot ahead with the speed of light, then still held, still in the toils, it again sprang into the air with frenzied shake and twist, whirling itself from side to side, striking terrific blows in search of the invisible enemy. Falling, the swordfish plunged downward, and reached two hundred feet below the surface and the bottom, then turned, and rose with a mighty rush, going high into the air again, whirling itself completely over in its madness, so that it fell upon its back, beating the sea into a maelstrom of foam and spume, in its blind and savage fury.

CHARLES FREDERICK HOLDER, in _Big Game at Sea._

MAY 18.

One is disposed to put "climate" in the plural when writing of so large a state as California and one so wonderfully endowed with conditions which make health, comfort and beauty in all seasons. Its great length of coast-line and its mountain ranges irregularly paralleling that, offer a wealth of resource in varying temperature, alt.i.tudes, shelter from the sea breezes or exposure to them, perhaps unequaled by any state in the union, or indeed by any country in the world.

MADAME CAROLINE SEVERANCE, in _The Mother of Clubs._

MAY 19.

A GLOUCESTER SKIPPER'S SONG.

Oh, the roar of shoaling waters, and the awful, awful sea, Busted shrouds and parting cables, and the white death on our lee!

Oh, the black, black night on Georges, when eight score men were lost!

Were ye there, ye men of Gloucester? Aye, ye were; and tossed Like chips upon the water were your little craft that night-- Driving, swearing, calling out, but ne'er a call of fright.

So knowing ye for what ye are, ye masters of the sea, Here's to ye, Gloucester fishermen, a health to ye from me!

JAMES B. CONNOLLY, in _Scribner's, May_, 1904.

MAY 20.

DEDICATION TO HIS FIRST BOOK.

* * * It is the proudest boast of the profession of literature, that no man ever published a book for selfish purposes or with ign.o.ble aim.

Books have been published for the consolation of the distressed; for the guidance of the wandering; for the relief of the dest.i.tute; for the hope of the penitent; for uplifting the burdened soul above its sorrows and fears; for the general amelioration of the condition of all mankind; for the right against the wrong; for the good against, the bad; for the truth. This book is published for two dollars per volume.

ROBERT J. BURDETTE, in _The Rise and Fall of the Mustache._

MAY 21.

THE YOSEMITE ROAD.

There at last are the snow-peaks, in virginal chast.i.ty standing!

Through the nut-pines I see them, their ridges expanding.

Ye peaks! from celestial sanct.i.ties benisons casting, Ye know not your puissant influence, lifting and lasting; Nothing fact.i.tious, self-conscious or impious bides in you; On your high serenities No hollow amenities Nor worldly impurities cast their dread blight; August and courageous, you stand for the right; The G.o.ds love you and lend you their soft robes of white.

BAILEY MILLARD, in _Songs of the Press._

MAY 22.

ON THE STEPS OF THE LECONTE MEMORIAL LODGE, YOSEMITE VALLEY.

I wonder not, whether it is well with this true seer, Who saw, while dwelling in the flesh, foundations strong and broad; I do not doubt that when he ceased to worship in this temple, Serene, he pa.s.sed from beauty unto beauty, from G.o.d to G.o.d.

BENJAMIN FAY MILLS.

Within, a whole rainbow is condensed in one of these magnificent sh.e.l.ls.

JOSIAH KEEP, in _West Coast Sh.e.l.ls._

MAY 23.

TO YOSEMITE.

The silence of the centuries, The calm where doubtings cease, And over all the brooding of G.o.d's presence And the spell of perfect peace!

O Granite Cliffs that steadfast face the dawn, O Forest Kings that heard Creation's sigh!

Teach me thy simple creed, that, living, I May live like thee, and as serenely die!

E.F. GREEN.

TO THE UNNAMED FALL IN THE YOSEMITE VALLEY.

Thou needest not that any man should name thee; G.o.d counts thine ethereal jewels, one by one; And, lest some selfish, inappropriate word should claim thee, Silent, we watch thee sparkle in the sun.

BENJAMIN FAY MILLS.

MAY 24.