The record-union., 1891-08-17

t'ESSAt'A
There, far away seen from the topmost cliff
Filling with purple gloom the vacancies
Between the tufted hills, the Sloplng seas
Hung in mid Heaven, ana halIWay doWn
White as white clouds, floated from sky to
sky.
OH pleasant breast of waters, quiet bay,
Like to a quiet mind in the loud world
Where the chafed breakers fthe outer sea
Sink PowerleSs as anger falls aside
And Withers on the breast Of peaceful love.
-TENNYSoN.
To drive over the little rise of ground
and behold the Bay of Bodega Chat name
that will persist in recalling the wild
Man of Borneo") at low tide is not
to become enamored of it. You must
pitch your striped tent and be its COM
panion in its happiest, as well as its ugll-
est moods. The glistening mud fats that
the retreating tide has left bare, the
punches Of long, green grass that move
laZily with the motion of the water, the
squaws digging clans with their red and
yellow gowns fluttering, the stranded
boats leaning disconsolately on one arm,
are not apt to induce one to linger at its
edge. There is heavy crop of this sea-
grass that threatens in time to exclude
the water altogether. 1t clings to the
oars and fiutters when they rise like long,
pale ribbons. Some day in the not very
distant henceI can imagine the bay trans
formed into q bonny potato patch, all
neatly ploughed, with notices to trespass-
ers tackled up where now our boat leaves
a line of yellow bubbles.
By-theway, do you remember, while
waiting at Suisun for an overdue train,
while reading the time cards and resort
advertisements, while the wind shrieks
over the dun marshes like a maniac's
laugh, while you outgrow your clothing
and grow gray, tOOthless and decrepit,
while you mutter ave maria's in behalf
of the railroad company for the discon-
nection Of trains, of noting the little sign:
~ DO NOT PICK THE TULEs.
But at evening the moon rises over the
round hills like a great golden blossom
that grows higher on an invisible stem,
like'the growth of magic flower in East
ern lands. She casts a glamour over the
sunllen bay, over the beds of weeds, and
as an occasional wave twinkles, the whole
has the appearance of q mighty cauldron
Of seething gold with the scum coming to
the surface to be removed.
The bay is rapidly filling, for in twelve
years it has filled to the depth of eight
feet. Where schooners and large vessels
at ono time went far up among the hills
in the EsterO Americana TO load at the
warehouses;, there is no sign of water.
Even the little brook that met the tide
waters putters along and sinks.
From our caStlet perched on an emil
nence, we could watch the bay in It's
moods both grave and gay. The moat
was a bed of blue grass and its most for
midable feature spruce hedge to keep
the Wintry winds from lifting it from its
underpirnings and depositing it in the
bay. Just across the bar is the island of
rocks where the unfortunate Lammer-
moor met her fate. The surroundings
abound in ancient landmarks, and the
very ground echoes the tread Of dead and
buried explorers. Here was the first
European settlement north Of San Fran
CISCO. In 1715 a Spanish navigator, Lieu
tenant Juan Francisco de Ia Bodega V
Quad2a, entered the bay and named il for
himself, so the story goes. In 1911 some
Russians from Sitka took possession.
They called the bay Romanzoff, and Rus
sian River SlaVianka.
The weekly arrival of the schooner
John Frederick from San Francisco is an
event of note. ! have heard of wreckers
who lie in wait for crafts laded with
spOils, and who pOunce upon her forth
with, but worse, l heard plans laid for
the good old Johns invasion as soon as
the white sails fieckcd the distance For
stored in her cabin were fragrant fruits,
mellowed by the suns Of the tropics: there
were daintics and cOnfections from the
great city, and stray bits of literature
gathered here and there. For the master
of the good ship is the soul of good
nature, with just soft twang in the
turn of his tongue"
While she lay anchored in quiet cove.
the moon only silvering the tips Of her
masts, resting on the bosom of the swells
dad girN Graded by each throb of the
ms h,a,.
with music and song, while the winds
gathered in their keeping and sped away
10 whisper to the moaning ocean.
! witnessed a naval contest between
the Captains of the John and the Fleet
Wing. There was no damage aside from
a very wet deluge OF salt water, and the
Fleet Wing SKINNED off triumphantly,
her graceful prov cleaving the waters,
her Captain, with golden hair in pictur-
esque disorder about her face, singing
gaily TO the click of the rowlockS. | re-
manned neutral in this battle-I did not
want to walk home, and the swiftly fiow-
ing tide forbade wadlng, so | courted
peace on both sides, and confined my re-
marks 10 i'll suppressed shouts of laugh
ter.
Should anyone lose his calendar, he
must know when the Sabbath comes, tor
it is marked with a holy quiet ali its own
The roar Of the waves is less wild. the
waves nave a IiipIt OEO6Ily NcpOGIlnenI,
and the sun shines with peacelulness
distinguished from the busy days. The
schooner tlUtters the stars and stripes
from her masthead, the Captain, reSplen-
dent in a pink silk shirt, his hands be-
hind his head, recliueS in the bow, and
gazing into the dim distance, dreams the
hours away. The mate, with "A carnation
in his buttonhole, PAGES the deck with
meditative strides, and the result of that
meditation means somebody's boat
hoistcd on a bank and shoveled full of
sand; alas, the sail tied To the seats with
gordian knots, and miSmanaged sail at
another time, SO that the lass with the
freckles on her nose received a salt bath
When clam-bake was proposed |
threw myself recklessiy in, not caring
for consequences. / have told myself
since that CLAIMS and / must meet as
strangers. When we went forth to gather
the alleged succulent fruit | offered to
hold my apron while some one climbed
the tree and shook them into it. And
they laughed at me- But when found
that they grew in the mud like potatoes,
] volunteered to hold someone else's bon
net while he turned over the mellow
mud flats in their search. They grow
with long stems, not unlike potato, but
not in hills. They seem TO have been
sown broadcast and thickly. There i,
one variety that lives in pretty, 1luted
shell, while another reminds one OF
''taffy on a stick There is no estab-
lished rule as to the length of the stems,
and they continue to stretch from the
time they are picked until they are
sacrificed on the funeral pyre.
An editor down south has q tamale
tree in bearing, but he does not enjoy
the fruit, rs it is situated near lake and
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