Byways Around San Francisco Bay by William E. Hutchinson
page 62 of 65 (95%)
page 62 of 65 (95%)
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I cannot vouch for the truth of this assertion, as I have never found
a town or hamlet along its winding course. In fact, I remember but one place of abode along its entire length, and this, a weather-beaten cottage nearly hidden by the pepper and acacia trees that surround it. It is a quaint little place, and might have inspired the poet to write that beautiful poem containing the lines, Let me live in a house by the side of the road, And be a friend to man, for the cooling draught passed out to me one hot afternoon from this house would certainly class the occupant as a benefactor. The dew was sparkling on the grass when I set out in the early morning, gossamer spider webs strung from leaf and stem glistened in the sunlight, and up from a tuft of grass a meadow lark sprang on silent wing, scattering his silvery notes, a paean of praise to the early dawn. A bluebird's notes blend with those of the song sparrow, and a robin swinging on the topmost branch of a eucalyptus, after a few short notes as a prelude, pours forth a perfect rhapsody of melody. At this place a hill encroaches upon the road at the right, covered thickly with underbrush and blackberry vines, its crest surmounted with a stately grove of eucalyptus trees, while on the left there is an almost perpendicular drop to the valley below. So narrow is the road that teams can hardly pass each other. Why it should crowd itself into such narrow quarters when there is room to spare is its |
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