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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 159 pages of information about The California Birthday Book.
    His restless heart found rest beneath her sands. 
  One sought but gold.  He dug his soul a grave;
    The desert’s gift worked evil in his hands. 
  One sought for beauty; him She made her slave. 
    Turn back!  No man her ’witched gift withstands.

in Ainslee’s, July, 1907.


Hark!  What is the meaning of this stir in the air. why are the brooks so full of laughter, the birds pouring forth such torrents of sweet song, as if unable longer to contain themselves for very joy?  The hills and ravines resound with happy voices.  Let us re-echo the cheering vibrations with the gladness of our hearts, with the hope arisen from the tomb of despair.  With buoyant spirit, let us join in the merry mood of the winged songsters; let us share the gaiety of the flowers and trees, and let our playful humor blend with the musical flow and tinkle of the silvery, shimmering rivulet.  Greetings, let fond greetings burst from the smiling lips on this most happy of all occasions!  The natal day of the flowers, the tender season of love and beauty, the happy morn of mother Nature’s bright awakening!  The resurrection, indeed!  The world palpitating with fresh young life—­it is the Holiday of holidays, the Golden Holiday for each and all—­the Birth of Spring.

Copyright, 1907.


Almost has the Californian developed a racial physiology.  He tends to size, to smooth symmetry of limb and trunk, to an erect, free carriage; and the beauty of his women is not a myth.  The pioneers were all men of good body; they had to be to live and leave descendants.  The bones of the weaklings who started for El Dorado in 1849 lie on the plains or in the hill cemeteries of the mining camps.  Heredity began it; climate has carried it out.

in The City That Was.



I watched a lily through the Lenten-tide;
    From when its emerald sheath first pierced the mould. 
    I saw the satin blades uncurl, unfold,
  And, softly upward, stretch with conscious pride
  Toward the fair sky.  At length, the leaves beside,
    There came a flower beauteous to behold,
    Breathing of purest joy and peace untold;
  Its radiance graced the Easter altar-side. 
  And in my heart there rose a sense of shame
    That I, alas, no precious gift had brought
      Which could approach the beauty of this thing—­
  I who had sought to bear the Master’s name! 
    Humbly I bowed while meek repentance wrought,
      With silent tears, her chastened offering.



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