The Arkansaw traveler., 1888-04-07
DAY AT SUNNYSIDE.
BY ROSE HARTwIcK THORPE.

w with undeniable suggestions of com ing rain in the atmosphere, and l was advised to remain at home for the day, or, if must go out, to burden myself with the usual accompani- ments such prophetic indications of unpleasant weather prescribed.
 The morning, and my anxious Michigan friends who were stopping with me, and for whose enjoyment we were about starting forth on this pleasant little trip, prophesied rain, I promised abundant sunshine during the day. We accordingly compromised the matter by taking an umbrella with us, which was, later on, converted into a sum- shade, and leaving our rubbers and water proof wraps at home.
 Taking the motor at the foot of Sixth street, we were soon gliding out of the station with all of the noise and buster, smoke and consequential importance of a full-sized railway train. Over hills, through deep cuts, into valleys, and pretty cottages and slab houses, and tents and all kinds of human habitations, we sped along.
 San Diego and National City have joined hands across the low lands that lie between, and it is difficult to tell just where the one leaves off and the other begins. From the open car we looked out on little hills dotted with homes, such pretty homes, with halo of prosperity and contentment all about them, where year or two ago only the far famed sage bush and na- ture's growth of flowers and grasses were visible.
 By the way, these self-important little motors closely resemble their larger cousins, the railway accommo- dation train, with all of the latter's facility for frightening horses and creating excitement for the pastime of their passengers, and are so exceed ingly accommodating as to carry the tourist directly past all of the prin- cipal objects of interest. This is es- pecially the case at National City, where we were whirled up one street and down another in such a manner as to create the impression that the small town is large one with many fine residences, business blocks and thrifty olive orchards; where, as in turning corner, circling around and presently presenting the same view from the opposite side, we are de- ceived into the belief that still another monument of mans industry and en- terprise is passing before our gaze.
 At length, having seen all of Ma tional City without the inconvenience of alighting from the train, we turned our attention to the hills and valleys that lie beyond, and as the fine orange orchards and improved farms are far between we were permitted to travel in comparatively a straight line.
 The first week of my sojourn in San Diego 1 saw the name of Sunnyside, and this simple, poetical English ap- pellation held a charm for me which La Jolla, Ira Juana, Morena, Bonita, Otay, Oneonta, and other fine sound ing names with obscure meanings failed to produce, though visited all of those suburban towns, even riding directly through Sunnyside to the great sweetwater dam and La Presa, before viewing that which first at tracted me.
 Now, however, we were on our way to Sunnyside, and I had no idea of permitting a cloudy day to interfere with my visit. I had not been favor- ably impressed with the place when riding past, but one sees none of its beauties from the train, as afterward discovered.
 Sunnyside has been fruit farm under cultivation for some ten years, and is most favorably located for pretty suburban homes. It is indeed 8 veri- table sunny side, with its long, green slopes turned up to southern skies.
 After passing through the odorous orange orchard laden with golden fruit and snowy bloom; after admir- ing the crescent curved avenue over shadowed by spicy pepper trees, with the tall eucalyptus grove standing in prim stateliness beyond after gather ing bouquets of flowers, heliotrope, marguerites, roses, columbine, gerani- ums and various other blossoms of equal fragrance aud beauty, blooming under the genial warmth of these mid-winter skies after cool refresh ing drink of the sweetest, purest wa ter have yet tasted in California 1; after picking oranges, lemons, olives and Hines fresh from the trees and passing through a large vineyard lately trimmed and put in readiness for this years fruitage, we ascended gentle rise of ground, higher and still more high until we reached the sum- init and paused to view the beauties of natures handiwork spread out be- heath and about us.
 To the southward lay the little valley like an emerald gem, close claspod by everlasting hills iaked