"And this our life--exempt from public haunt,
Finds tongues in trees, books in running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in everything."
We next visited San Jose, one of the most romantically, beautiful towns in
California, which would require the subtle gift of genius, a touch of
poetic fire, and, above all, the fullness and richness of descriptive
power, to enable me to give any adequate conception of its charms. It was
almost a fairy realm, with its fields of waving grain, then golden with
the glow of the harvest season; trees laden with fruitage, and vineyards
drooping with their ripe, purple clusters.
One of the prominent attractions of the place was the residence of General
Negley, nestling in the centre of extended grounds, combining the richly,
blending beauties of nature and art. Groves and streams, rustic bridges
and flowing fountains, shrubby labyrinths and flowery dells, were grouped
in happiest harmony. Received by the General with the genial hospitality
which should characterize the presiding spirit of such an Eden, dispensing
itself in so many pleasant ways, we were led from house to garden, and
from vineyard to wine press, where all were temptingly lured to taste the
freshly pressed grape juice.
It was a novel sight to those accustomed only to white or negro labor, to
see the efficient corps of Chinese employees who had proven themselves
such valuable servants. It is with some degree of trepidation that I
follow a desire which impels me to describe a bunch of grapes I saw in
this vineyard. I must beg my readers to free me from any taint of the
spirit of the renowned Baron Munchausen, whose intensely magnifying vision
threw its impress upon all objects, but, without the faintest degree of
exaggeration, I can say, that while I am no Lilliputian in size, I stood,
holding with great difficulty, the weight of a single bunch of grapes in
my extended hand, while the other end of it rested upon the ground, nor
would I dare to tell this grape story unless many of my readers were
familiar with the mammoth fruits of California.
After this delightful visit we took the horse car to Santa Clara, and
certainly the world cannot boast of a public route so redolent with beauty
as this. Both sides of the road are shaded with trees of almost a
century's growth; for this "Alameda" was planted by the Jesuit Fathers in
1799. These left the vines and olives of their native Spain, and planted
upon the soil of their new home this grove, which was, doubtless, intended
as a sacred haunt, never dreaming that its sanctity would be invaded by
the sacrilegious sounds of modern civilization, and, above all, by the
rumble of the horse car.
All along this beauteous line of shade, musical with the melody of birds,
are elegant villas, evidently the abodes of wealth and fashion.
Back again to Sacramento, we met Mr. Charles Cummings, who gave us a
general pass over the various stage routes of that portion of the State,
and we at once went to Stockton by rail, where we took the stage for the
celebrated Calevaros trees. So stupendous appeared every tree upon the
route, that a score of times we fancied ourselves nearing the world famed
giants, but how did these monsters dwindle into comparative insignificance
when we found the real grove.
After this tedious, tiresome stage ride, it was indeed a luxury to find
ourselves safely ensconced in the large, elegant hotel in the midst of the
Calevaros, the season being quite advanced, and in consequence the hotel
less crowded. This being one of the few places in the State in which we
found cool water, we luxuriated in draught after draught of this crystal,
ice-cold beverage, and no fabled fountain of rejuvenating power could have
been more exhilarating.
Next morning, in eager anxiety, we took an early look at the great trees,
all of which are named for some person of distinction. We stood first
beside General Grant, and, as Hattie laid her hand upon the side of the
hero, she bade me start around him and see what a distance it would be to
find her again. When I was upon the opposite side I felt quite isolated
and lonely, and when I regained her companionship it seemed to have been
after a long separation. We next took a reverent look at the "Mother of
the Forest," which is eighty-seven feet in circumference and four hundred
feet in height, and we must confess that these proportions made her look
quite like an Amazon. The "Father of the Forest" was quite prostrate, his
huge bulk, as he lay upon the ground, seeming that of a fallen hero. Thus
in the vegetable as in the animal world, the female has the greater power
of endurance. Man, in spite of his conceded superiority of physical
strength and supposed mental supremacy, bows before the tornado of life,
while woman ofttimes stands erect and fearless amid the storms and winds
of years.
The heart of the Father had been bored out, and the hollow converted into
a drive, admitting a horse and rider for eighty-seven feet, and allowing
them room to turn and go back. I had the pleasure of taking this novel
ride, allowing my horse to be led.
Many of my readers have seen, and most of them have heard of the novel
dancing-hall in the heart of one of these denizens of the forest, which
admits four quadrilles upon its floors, and can imagine the romance of
"tripping the light fantastic toe" amid such surroundings. Another tree
had been sawed into tablets, upon which each visitor left a name or
record. The day previous to our visit, a little boy of eight years old had
visited the grove. When his bright eyes rested for a time upon the tablet,
his little fingers grasped a piece of chalk, and he readily wrote: "And
God said, let there be a Big Tree, and there was a Big Tree."
We looked admiringly upon the "Twin Trees" named for Ingomar and
Parthenia, and perhaps like these lovers of old, embodied "two hearts that
beat as one." During our three days visit we left no tree unexamined, each
one being fraught with individuality, and each in living language
addressing our hearts in its own characteristic sentiment.
These veterans varied in age from twelve hundred to twenty-five thousand
years, and for their accumulated cycles commanded veneration.
After fully satisfying our love of sight seeing, and taking time to fully
contemplate the beauty and sublimity of the wonders, we returned by way of
Sonora and Columbia to our temporary home in Sacramento, not only
satisfied but highly gratified by our tour.