There is no place in California where one can more profitably spend a
day in the enjoyment of the wonderful beauties of nature than in this
grove of giant redwoods.




[Illustration]

San Francisco Bay


Where once the Indian's canoe roamed o'er the bay,
With silent motion, sped by warrior's hand;
The sea gulls wheel and turn in columns gray,
And on the beach the miners' cabins stand;

Now, white-sailed ships sail outward with the tide,
The stately ocean liners lead the van;
And iron warships anchor side by side,
With sister ships from China and Japan.

Italian fishing boats with lateen sails go by,
To cast their lines outside the Golden Gate;
And ferryboats their ceaseless traffic ply,
From mole to mole, from early morn till late.

And so the march of commerce takes its way,
And every clime contributes of its store