THEY arrived at Coronado Beach, tired with their journey but full of
delight with the beauty of their surroundings. On the morning after
their arrival they were gathered upon one of the galleries, taking
a very interested view of the strange and beautiful scenery spread
out before them. The near prospect was of lovely grounds forming the
inner court of the hotel, grass, trees and hedges of lovely green,
borders and ovals and beds of marguerites, long lines and curves of
marigolds, and a fountain encircled by calla-lilies. It was beautiful.
And farther away they could see other lovely gardens, rocky wastes,
lofty mountains, and the ocean with distant sails upon it; the beach
with foaming waves breaking on it, and Point Loma, grandly guarding the
harbor on the right.
“There must be a grand view from the top of that promontory,” remarked
Chester.
“Yes,” said the captain, “and perhaps a call there would be as good a
beginning of our peregrinations as we could make. Point Loma commands
one of the most remarkable views in the world; an immense prospect and
very interesting in its details. I suppose you would all like to go?”
he added inquiringly, and with a kindly glance from one to another.
No one seemed at all inclined to reject the offered treat, carriages
were ordered, and in a few minutes they were on their way.
There was no disappointment; the view from the top of the rocky
promontory, Point Loma, was all they had been led to expect; a view of
miles of old ocean, blue and sparkling in the sunshine, bearing distant
vessels on its bosom; on the land ranges on ranges of mountains; away
in the distance to the South another promontory—the Point of Rocks,
in Mexico. They drove along the narrow ridge of the promontory to the
lighthouse, and found the view very fine from there.
“How beautiful is that wide, curving coast line!” remarked Grandma
Elsie.
“Yes, mamma,” assented Violet, “and the ranges on ranges of hills and
mountains. And there, see, are snow-peaks beyond them. What mountains
are they, my dear?”
“San Bernardino and San Jacinto,” replied the captain; “and that
flat-topped one is Table Mountain, in Mexico.”
“’Tis a grand view, this!” remarked Mr. Lilburn, in tones of delight.
“Yes, one of the finest in the world,” responded the captain. “What a
perfect crescent is that ocean beach, and how singular is the formation
of North and South Coronado Beach! Notice the entrance to this harbor
here along Point Loma, where we are standing, and on the spacious inner
bay, the towns of San Diego, and National City; notice the lowlands and
heights outside sprinkled with houses, gardens, vineyards and orchards.”
“It is a beautiful scene,” said Mrs. Rose Dinsmore; “it alone is enough
to repay us for our long journey.”
“Yes, grandma,” responded Violet, “especially as the journey itself
was really delightful.”
“So it was,” responded several voices.
“Yes, I think it paid even for giving up my Tiny for a few weeks,” said
little Elsie. “Are we going anywhere else to-day, papa?” she asked,
turning to her father.
“That is a question I have not considered yet,” he answered, “but I
think that by the time we get back to our hotel and eat our dinner, it
will be rather late for another trip.”
“I think so; especially for those of our party who are my patients,”
said Dr. Travilla. “For a time I must ask them to avoid both the
evening and the early morning air.”
“And such is their confidence in your medical wisdom and skill that
they will be very apt to take your advice,” remarked Lucilla, with
playful look and tone.
“Certainly we will,” added Chester; “where would be the use of bringing
a doctor along if his advice is not to be followed?”
“I’m very hungry,” put in little Ned. “Uncle Harold, wouldn’t it be
good for us to have something to eat?”
“Why yes, Ned, I highly approve of that suggestion,” laughed the
doctor, “and there are lunch baskets in our carriages that will no
doubt yield all that is needed to satisfy our appetites.”
“Yes, I saw them, Uncle Harold, and so I knew we didn’t need to go
hungry,” replied Ned. Then, turning to his father, “May I go and get
the baskets, papa?” he asked. “I s’pose we’ll have to eat out here.”
“No doubt we can eat comfortably enough sitting here on the rocks,”
replied his father; “but the baskets are too heavy for a boy of
your size to carry. We will get one of our drivers to do that.”
Then addressing the party, “Judging by my own feelings, ladies and
gentlemen, I suppose you are all ready for lunch?”
There was a general assent, and presently they were regaling themselves
with a very appetizing meal.
That concluded, they re-entered their carriages and had a delightful
drive back to the Hotel del Coronado, where they passed a pleasant
evening, then retired early for a comfortable night’s rest.
The next day was the Sabbath. Our party attended morning service in the
nearest church, and in the afternoon spent an hour or more in Bible
study together. After that little Elsie, Bible in hand, drew near Mrs.
Travilla.
“Grandma,” she said, “I want to ask you about this verse in
Revelations. Shall I read it to you?”
“Yes, dear; let me hear it,” replied Grandma Elsie, and the child read
in low, sweet tones:
“‘He that hath an ear, let him hear what the Spirit saith unto the
churches: To him that overcometh will I give to eat of the hidden
manna, and will give him a white stone, and in the stone a new name
written, which no man knoweth saving he that receiveth it.’”
The little girl paused, closed her Bible, and putting her hand in her
pocket drew out a small white stone.
“See, grandma,” she said, “I picked this up yesterday when we were out
and it reminded me of that verse. Please, grandma, tell me what it
means.”
“I will do the best I can, darling,” was the sweet-toned reply. “The
white stone was the symbol of acquittal. When a man had been accused
or suspected of some crime, tried for it and found innocent, the judge
would give him a white stone, and he could show that as proof that he
had been pronounced innocent. The white stone was also the symbol of
victory and honor, and was given to brave soldiers coming home from
battles for their country.”
“Then they would be very proud to show it, I suppose,” said Elsie. “But
was that all the use they had for such stones, grandma?”
“No; they were used as a symbol of friendship. A single stone would be
cut in two, one man would take one half, his friend the other, each
would write his name on the piece he held, then they would exchange
them, each keeping his piece with his friend’s name upon it, as proof
and pledge of that friend’s love. They might be so separated afterwards
as not to see or hear from each other for years, and perhaps, if they
met again, not be able to recognize each other, because of changed
appearances, but the stone would help them to prove their identity and
give them the joy of renewed friendship. And when they died their sons
would inherit those valuable stones, which would serve as helpers in
keeping up the friendship of their fathers.”
Elsie sat for a moment in thoughtful silence, then turning to her
grandma, with a sweet smile: “That was a nice lesson,” she said. “Thank
you very much for it, grandma.”
“What was that, daughter?” asked the captain, approaching them at that
moment. In reply Elsie showed her stone and repeated what her grandma
had been telling her.
“That was a very good lesson,” said her father. “Keep the little white
stone, daughter, and when you look at it remember the Master’s promise
given with it—look to Him for strength to overcome, and you will not
fail. He says to each one of His children: ‘Fear thou not; for I am
with thee; be not dismayed, for I am thy God; I will strengthen thee;
yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of
my righteousness.’ Again and again in that same chapter He repeats His
gracious admonition to His people not to fear, because they are His—He
is their God and will help them.”
“Oh, it is lovely, papa, lovely to belong to Him and know that He will
bring us safely all the way through this world to the home with Him
that He has prepared for us above!” exclaimed the little girl in joyous
tones, her eyes shining with happiness.
At the moment Violet came in from the gallery, whither all the rest of
the party had already gone.
“Come, mamma dear,” she said, “we want your company, and have a
comfortable chair placed ready for you. Plenty of room and a warm
welcome, Levis, for you and our little daughter, also,” she added,
turning her sweet, smiling face toward her husband.
All three promptly accepted her invitation, and found it very
delightful to gaze upon the beautiful grounds just below them, and the
sparkling, restless ocean beyond, also to inhale the delightful sea
breeze—all in the pleasant company of those whose conversation was both
interesting and instructive.
The summons to the tea table presently called them away from that
pleasant spot, but they returned to it until the approach of bedtime;
then with cordial and kindly good-nights they separated.
But Lucilla came back presently to find her father pacing the gallery
to and fro as was his wont at home. Pausing in his walk, he welcomed
her with a smile, put an arm about her and gave her a kiss that seemed
to say she was very dear to him.
“Father,” she said, “you were so kind to bring us all here to this
lovely place.”
“Kind to myself as well as to others,” he said with a smile; “I am
very glad, daughter, to know that you are enjoying it.”
“I am, father dear, more than I can find words to express, as is
Chester, also; and I think the change is improving his health.”
“Yes, I think so, and hope he will go home entirely recovered. Ah, who
is this?” as another girlish figure came gliding toward them.
“Another of your daughters, father,” answered a sweet-toned voice; “I
didn’t know you had a companion—though I might have guessed it—and I
wanted a bit of chat about your absent son. Isn’t it time for letters?”
“Hardly, Eva, my dear, though possibly we may hear to-morrow or next
day,” replied the captain, putting an arm about her and drawing her
close to his side.
“I wish Max could get a furlough and join us here,” said Lucilla. “I
feel almost mean, Eva, to be enjoying the society of my husband while
yours is so far away.”
“Oh, Lu, dear, don’t feel so,” returned Evelyn; “your happiness
certainly does not make mine any less; no, it makes it more; because,
loving you, I rejoice in your happiness.”
They chatted but a few moments longer, then bidding the captain
good-night, hastened away to their own rooms.