The Days of a Man [;i89i 



cottage, a bit of France translated to California, 

 was born on November lo, 1891, our beloved daugh- 

 ter Barbara, the sweetest, wisest, comeliest, and 

 most lovable of children. 

 Ordered The evcuing after our arrival, going over to see 



o«^ how the university buildings had progressed, Mrs. 



Jordan and I were at first naturally ordered out by 

 the watchman as intruders. Later I came to feel 

 more at home in the Quadrangle than anywhere 

 else in the world, although the first impression of 

 us all was of being on an extended picnic in the 

 beautiful Santa Clara Valley. 



The next day I chose for the executive offices a 

 building on the north side of the main entrance, 

 and there Elliott, Richardson, and I used to spend 

 the day, eating our luncheons in the shadow of 

 the beautiful arcade. There was plenty to do in 

 preparation for the opening; and regularly one of 

 us drove or walked to Menlo Park, two miles away, 

 Pioneering to bring back the growing bag of official mail. For 

 there was practically nothing at what is now the 

 city of Palo Alto, only a flag stop for the conven- 

 ience of workmen employed at the University it- 

 self or about the Stock Farm. Later, as a town 

 began to develop northeast of the railway, an old 

 freight car served temporarily for station, to be 

 ultimately replaced by a fairly satisfactory struc- 

 ture disturbed from time to time by growing 

 pains. 



When we came, a great wheatfield stretched away 

 to the north, with only a little farmhouse and an 

 old barn in sight. Soon, however, streets were laid 

 out and lots plotted and sold; people began to build, 

 a merchant and a grocer set up shop, a bank was 



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