The San Francisco call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1895-1913, 1896-07-19

w ley of the mill. Yesterda ay
V IN evening as the shadows herald
ing the setting of the sun and
the approach of darkness stole gently over
the picturesque coast of Marin an old mill
which had lain silent, crumbling and
rusting for decades in a little deserted
ravine awoke from its long slumber and
once more the wheel turned round and
round.
Round and round it went. 1t was not
the same wheel that was placed beneath
the now 1ecaying roof by the hands of
sturdy pioneers nearly sixty years ago;
furthermore the millrace was dry. The
stream of water which used to dash and
foam against the heavy paddles, in the
days when waste of barren sand dunes
marked the location on which San Fran
cisco now, stands, has been turned forever
from its ancient source. But what matter
these things? It was Mill Valleys gala
night. Past days were forgotten and to
the laughter Of maids, the iesting of men
and the merrymaking of thousands of
guests the old mill spent its last hours of
activity, its last moments of usefulness.
Promptly at 8 O'Clock the booming of
cannon marked the arrival of the first
special train.
Suddenly, as if the satanic forces of a
mighty eruption had rent the earth, red
flames, apparently emanating from the top
most peak OF old Tamaipais, lit up the
festal scene. 1t was an inspiring sight.
A second boom OF the cannon echoed and
re re-echoed, and the cozy valley surrounded
by gentle hills was bathed in crimson
rays OF fire. Far up on the hill stood the
director, A. A. Martin, a veritable Me-
phisto. He was anxious that the illumina-
tion should be success, and success 1t
was.
Mount Tamalpais famed and belched
forth faithful reproduction of
Sicily's horror, Etna. A train, con-
sIsting OF an engine and several
cars, was sent scorching down the scenic
railway. Red fire was burned along the
entire distance of the trip, and appeare d
TO be stream of lava flowing down the
mountain sides from the active volcano
above. The little valley looked not un-
like blooa-red sea.
Hale-mau-mau's live mass of molten
lava. bubbling craters and kissing steam are
the mighty, the sublime in nature, and one
could almost scent its sulphuric vapors
and imagine that he was standing on the
brink of that boiling caldron. Ravines
widened in the glare of red and assumed
the proportions OF yawning cbasms.
Sprightly young women in gowns of
snowy white moved hither and thither
among the trees and down the wooded
lanes, accompanied by devoted gallants in
holiday attire, and inthe light of the burn
ing Vesuvius appeared like spectral things.
uneasy and unearthly. But there was moth
ing supernatural lowering in or around the
carnival scene. How different was the
spectacle when the imagination was i'm
oed in its riotous course. These ap-
parent waves of fire and crimson lava were
only the work of Mill Valley ingenuity.
inese changing lights of varied hues were
lanterns gracefully suspended from green
Iohaged redwoods and fragrant pines.
whlcn, as the zephyrs swayed them, nod
oco and beckoned to the merry guests.
Preparations for the illumination of the
mill were concluded and the early comers
waited patiently for the opening of Mill