MADGE MORRIS WAGNER,
in _Mystery of Carmel._



JUNE 11.


Up to the American invasion, the traveler in California found welcome
in whatsoever house. Not food and bed and tolerance only, but warm
hearts and home. Fresh clothing was laid out in his chamber. His jaded
horse went to the fenceless pasture; a new and probably better steed
was saddled at the door when the day came that he must go. And in the
houses which had it, a casual fistful of silver lay upon his table,
from which he was expected to help himself against his present needs.
It was a society in which hotels could not survive (even long after
they were attempted) because every home was open to the stranger; and
orphan asylums were impossible. Not because fathers and mothers never
died, but because no one was civilized enough to shirk orphans.

CHARLES F. LUMMIS.
in _The Right Hand of the Continent, Out West,
August_, 1892.



JUNE 12.


Go as far as you dare in the heart of a lonely land, you cannot go so