Shepherdstown register. [volume] (Shepherdstown, Va. [W. Va.]) 1849-1955, 1907-01-17
LETTER FROM CALIFORNIA.
SANTA MONICA. CAL :,

SANTA MONlCA- OA14sb
January, I'd, 1907.
Mr.. EDIToR-Off in the distance on
either hand the mountains seem to run
out into the ocean and are lost. From
an elevated spot not more than stones
throw from the breaking waves, am
looking out on the broad waters, and
listening to the voices of so many beau
tiful things around me. 1t is evening.
The sun is sinking into the sea and is
gathering all the glories OF the day In
the skies of the horizon. Mountains OF
gold and silver, great banks OF glowing
fire, seas of flaming brightness and thep
the great wastes of most sombertlnts are
in this panorama Of the heavens. Were
| an artist, and with inspired hand
could but half portray the scene before
me, it would captivate the senses OF ev-
erv beauty-loving soul and they would
stand with awe and reverence before
the picture. The great curtain of fire
is fading. going down into the ocean.
Twilight is stealing over the waters and
the sublime beauty of sunset at Santa
Monico will soon be only a memory.
Santa Monica, my friends, is an ocean
town Of California where people live in
blooming flowers, while you are trudg-
ing through the snow and ice. A rainy
day in this delightful country is well
coined with smile, for then the lawns
and flowers freshen and the green leaves
shed the dust, and with clean-washed
face the elm bling vines and roses adorn
the homes. | have made several visits
TO the New Jersey coast, where the ar
tifcial trimmingsof wealth are to beseen
on every hand, but mature unadorned
is adorned the most" aud to all those
who would seek outside of marble
palace, either from choice~or necessity,
the pleasures of perennial spring time,
| would tell them that the song OF the
surf at Santa Monico is never carried
on the wings of chilly winter. would
also tell them that the graceful bending
branches of the palms carry their fresh
green leaves throughout the year and
that the flowers and roses never seem
to tire in bringing forth their bloom.
Yesterday in the company of youth
full Goldfield friend | was hurled in
flying automobile across the city OF Los
Angeles The way was lined with cleo
trio cars, and carriages and many tray-
cling like ourselves. The roadway for
fifteen miles eemed almost continu-
Gus town. We passed the ostrich
farm, so dear to the hearts and heads OF
the ladies, and soon drew into Pasadena,
noted in the annals of the cities as the
winter home of millionaires, and for
the unique and beautiful manner in
which each returning New Years day
is celebrated. This occasion is called
the Tournament of Roses, and as we
came into the heart OF the city, and
crept through the crowds of people, we
met the procession of decorated floats
and floral fancies. My first impression
was, where in the world did all these
flowers grow, and then | became alb
sorbed in the beauty of the pageant,a and
when it was all past, said to myself,
yes, this is the land of flowers. | can
not attempt to describe Pasadena and
its carnival of flowers without drawing
my letter out at too great length, but
anyone within reach of this place on
the first day of each year will miss
most beautiful and novel sight it they
do not visit the city at this time.
For the pleasure of those of your
readers who have poetical fancy, or
rhyming disease like myself, let me
sum up in few lines my impressions
of this delightful country.
Were | bird and just beginning life,
I'd fly around and find myself wife.
Then seeking out an ideal resting place,
In this the year OF 1907 of grace,
Where | could lead life of pleasing
hours,
We'd HE us to this smiling land Of,
flowers.
But Pm an old Virginia crank.
That stood too long upon the bank
OF meanderinG quiet stream,
And learned to love it, and to dream,
So that no matter where | roam,
The sweetest song is "Home, Sweet
Home"
Very truly,
A. s. REYNOLDS.