upon the dull ear of a Japanese farmer, usurping that sweet valley,
hallowed by sentiment, by historical association, by the lives and
loves and ashes of the men and women who carved California from the
wilderness.

I have given to this book the labor of love. I know it isn't
literature, Mul, but I have joyed in writing it and it has, at least,
the merit of sincerity. It is an expression of faith and for all its
faults and imperfections, I think you will find, tucked away in it
somewhere, a modicum of merit. I have tried to limn something, however
vague, of the beauty of the land we saw through boyish eyes before the
real estate agent had profaned it.

You were born with a great love, a great reverence for beauty. That
must be because you were born in Sonoma County in the light of God's
smile. Each spring in California the dogwood blossoms are, for you, a
creamier white, the buckeye blossoms more numerous and fragrant, the
hills a trifle greener and the old order, the old places, the old
friends a little dearer.

Wherefore, with much appreciation of your aid in its creation and of
your unfaltering friendship and affection, I dedicate "The Pride of
Palomar" to you.

Faithfully,

PETER B. KYNE.


SAN FRANCISCO