The San Francisco call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1895-1913, 1895-12-25

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vided for US song that can never grow
| old?
Young California knows little of John
G. Ceremony, one Of the most remarkable
and picturesque figures in California life,
a man who was intensely human in all his
| sympathies, and whose "Tales of the In
| dams" arc pen-paintings with a color and
] strength that bring these half-brothers of
ours closer TO oar hearts.
| And B. P. Avery, once editor of the
."OYerland Monthly" then Minister to
| China, now among the shades, lover of
| art, strong, clean, truthful writer. Good
| John Melville, with his quaint and gentle
ways, with his pure English. and his
| wholesome life, is he not amidst the shades
also?
And T. H. Rearden. lawyer, scholar
| and brilliant conversationalist, an ardent
lover of the Grecian civilization, a poet
vino sang inspired by the GIecian muse, is
he not with his masters?
And ]. Ross Browne, with his stories OF
old California days and his Texas idyls,
his dry humor and his strong love for his
fellow-m ortals, is he not with the 1mmor-
| tails?
And Prentice Milford, with his odd
| fancies and his quaint conceits and his
grave psychological studies, and with a
song to sing which he sang right on until
| the far off called him away.
DR.. J. D. B. Stillman, with whom poetry
| was science, and who loved to follow in
| the footsteps of the pioneers, and recount
| their triumphs, rejoice in their victories
and suffer in their defeats, is beyond the
| mountain tops.
And Bishop Kip, a man of stately pres
ence and grave dignity, yet ever in SYM
| pathy with the intellectual progress of the
times. Up there on some hidden peak,
breaking through the neither sky, has he
! built church, and are the old heroes
gathering round him listening to the new
song, The Song of the Emancipated Soul' ?
And can we not hear the rough though
| musical notes of Captain G. NJ. Scammon,
who told US the story of Astoria, and made
| for US a romance out of the Lives of the
| Fur Seals? Is ne not away with the old
| Berserkers, hunting for new worlds in the
| mists of the unknown?
| And Noah Brooks, who has found out
| the glory and delight of the eternal en-
! pire, where neither "old lamps nor new
lamps" are needed, for the light of that
| land fades never? And Albert S. Evans,
| whose thoughts were ever among the
| Clouds" has he not realized his dreams :?
And w. A. Kendall, who sang to us the
Song of Night" bidding US godspeed
| through the darkening hours, has he not
| said farewell to the night forever? And
sweet Josephine Clifford, has she not re-
| allied Gan Things for the Best? And
| John Kays, who loved the forest life and
all its ways, and in his fancies made it a
| home for us, and built temples and wor-
| SHIPPED there, does he look down and see
the dissertation of his temples by the van
dals of the present?
! And Taliesin Evans who loved to wander
| by the river banks and preach the gospel
of the brooks and tell the stories of the
trees, is he not still singing in the great
| temple of the infinite? And John and
! Agnes Manning with their stories of Aus.
tralian and Californian life. and Theodore
+. Dwight, and Hilda Roosevelt and Geor-
giana B. Kirby with their varied stories
| OF the life of the day, sang they not all
| true songs?
Among the living yet distant writer's,
| who in winning fame for themselves drew
from abroad many generous notices of
those who helped to create the world of
letters III California, we have only to name
Mark Twain to start into being groups of
odds and ends, picturesque characters,
comic kingdom and an empire OF fun.
Mr.. Clemens clam bered rapidly the
broken pathway up the mountain
side, becoming an object OF universal
ord md ho &c
whelming pecunlary disaster Who can
not but feel deep sympathy with him
and express an earnest hope that ere the
lights go out for him he will have had time
given to him to enjoy the peace and quiet
which should be his in the evening OF life?
Charles w. Stoddard, it would be an af-
fectation to call him anything but Charlie,
poet and dreamer of dreams, whose songs
are songs of the heart and whose own life
is never sad save in the contemplation of
the sadness of others, him it would be i'm
possible to know without loving. Charlie,
who is never so happy as when he is
dreaming, wandering idly through the
forest, lettering by some babbling stream,
lazily reclining at the foot of some noun
tain, with an earnest desire to climb it,
but with total disability to overcome his
natural laziness, this most gentle and
genial of men is engaged in educating the
unloveliness of the Eastern youth, but his
heart and his affections are here with us
in California.
Martin Kellogg, scientist and scholar,
and Professor LIE Conte, two men of at
tainments so great that it may be said
with certainty that however distinguished
they are in this fair land that had they
been translated to some seat Of learning in
the older lands they would have been hon.
ored by the great thinkers of the world.
Fortunately for the University of Califor-
MIA both these scholars have been con-
tented to find the reward of their labors in
training It's youth. What an odd, quaint
and delightful pair they are! Professor
Kellogg shows all the signs and mark. of
his Scottish ancestry, with his terrible
coInmon-sense. his immediate acceptance
of facts and his disposition to reject fam
cies; having withal dry wit, though it be
Scotch. and nature gentle and kindly as
that OF a true woman. Professor LIE Conte,
scientist, shows quickly his French origin,
giving you the hard facts of science in