THE WATER OUZEL.

The vertical curves and angles of the most precipitous torrents he traces with the same rigid fidelity, swooping down the inclines of cascades, dropping sheer over dizzy falls amid the spray, and ascending with the same fearlessness and ease, seldom seeking to lessen the steepness of the acclivity by beginning to ascend before reaching the base of the fall. No matter though it may be several hundred feet in height he holds straight on, as if about to dash headlong into the throng of booming rockets, and darts abruptly up ward, and, after alighting at the top of the precipice to rest a moment, proceeds to feed and sing.

JOHN MUIR, in _The Mountains of California._

OCTOBER 10.

Who can hear the wild song of the ouzel and not feel an answering thrill? Perched upon a rock in the midst of the rapids, he is the incarnation of all that is untamed, a wild spirit of the mountain stream, as free as a raindrop or a sunbeam. How solitary he is, a lone little bird, flitting from rock to rock through the desolate gorge, like some spirit in a Stygian world. Yet he sings continually as he takes his solitary way along the stream, and bursts of melody, so eerie and sylvan as to fire the imagination, come to the ear, sounding above the roar of the torrent. Like Orpheus, he seeks in the nether world of that wild gorge for his Eurydice, now dashing through the rapids, now peering into some pool, as if to discern her fond image in its depths, and calling ever to lure her thence from that dark retreat up into the world of light and love.

C.H. KIRKHAM, in _In the Open._

OCTOBER 11.

TO LOS ANGELES.

May this great city of Los Angeles, destined to be a mighty metropolis, flanked by the mountains and the sea, grow in the spirit of charity and toleration between man and man, and in the fear and love of G.o.d. May our city ever remain a fair virgin, sought for by the valiant sons from all lands, adorned with the wealth of the golden orange and caressed by the clinging vine.

(_Fiach Fionn_) LAURENCE BRANNICK.

OCTOBER 12.

Like most of the early cities of the coast, Los Angeles owes its origin to the proselyting enthusiasm of the Spanish priesthood. The Mission of San Gabriel had been in existence ten years, and it had gathered several thousand Indians under its guardianship when it was proposed to establish a pueblo in that vicinity in order that a temporal development might proceed together with the spiritual. Had there been no mission at San Gabriel to hold the savages in check by the force of a religious awe, and to lead them to industrial pursuits, there probably would have been no founding of a city on the lands above the Los Angeles river--at least not until some date half a century later.

C.D. WILLARD, in _History of the Los Angeles Chamber of Commerce._

MY CREED.

I believe the best I can think, being fully persuaded that if this be not true, it is because the truth transcends my present power of thought.

BENJAMIN FAY MILLS.

OCTOBER 13.

THE BEAUTIES OF LOS ANGELES.

So beautiful for situation, between its guardian mountain ranges and the smiling sea, so wonderful in its resources and its possibilities is this charming valley of ours, that one cannot reasonably doubt that its manifest destiny is to be a world sanitarium. * * * To him who seeks it wisely here, no demand of necessity, comfort or luxury is impossible.

MADAME CAROLINE SEVERANCE, in _The Mother of Clubs._

OCTOBER 14.

The entire situation with regard to manufacturing in Southern California has undergone a radical change in the last few years, by reason of the discovery of oil in great quant.i.ties in and around Los Angeles, and in other sections of Southern and Central California. This puts an entirely new face on the fuel question, and removes, in a great measure, what has always been the most serious problem in manufacturing development.

C.D. WILLARD, in _History of the Los Angeles Chamber of Commerce._

A fog had drifted in during the night and was still tangled in the tops of the sycamores. The soft, humid air was sweet with the earthy scents of the canyon, and the curled fallen leaves of the live-oaks along the flume path were golden-brown with moisture. Beads of mist fringed the silken fluffs of the clematis, dripping with gentle, rhythmical insistence from the trees overhead.

MARGARET COLLIER GRAHAM, in _Stories of the Foothills._

OCTOBER 15.

All believed they were located over an inexhaustible, subterranean lake of oil, and Oilville, city of tents and shacks, within a month had acquired the recklessness, the devil-may-care air of a mining camp, or the Pennsylvania oil fields. * * * Then there was a pause in the work, for the experts decided that the new oil which spouted forth in such vast quant.i.ties was too heavy and malodorous to serve as an illuminant.

Presently, however, it was discovered that this defect was a virtue, for here was a non-explosive petroleum that could be utilized in great quant.i.ties as a fuel, and work was hastened with renewed vigor, for now California possessed the monopoly of the one great need, not only of herself, but of all the world.

MRS. FREMONT OLDER, in _The Giants._

OCTOBER 16.

SAN PEDRO.

MORNING.

A smooth, smooth sea of gray, gray gla.s.s; An open sea, where big ships pa.s.s Into the sun; A boat-dotted harbor; gulls, wheeling and screaming, And surf-song and fisher-cry end our night's dreaming.

Day has begun.

EVENING.

A broken sea of rosy jade; A rose-pink sky; black ships that fade Into the night; Across the bay, the city seems But elfin music, drowsy dreams And silver light!

OLIVE PERCIVAL.

OCTOBER 17.