THE CITY OF THE SAINTS 



Perhaps nineteen twentieths of the houses 

 are built of bluish-gray adobe bricks, and are 

 only one or two stories high, forming fine cot- 

 tage homes which promise simple comfort 

 within. They are set well back from the street, 

 leaving room for a flower garden, while almost 

 every one has a thrifty orchard at the sides and 

 around the back. The gardens are laid out 

 with great simplicity, indicating love for flow- 

 ers by people comparatively poor, rather than 

 deliberate efforts of the rich for showy artistic 

 effects. They are like the pet gardens of chil- 

 dren, about as artless and humble, and har- 

 monize with the low dwelhngs to which they 

 belong. In almost every one you find daisies, 

 and mint, and lilac bushes, and rows of plain 

 English tuUps. Lilacs and tulips are the most 

 characteristic flowers, and nowhere have I 

 seen them in greater perfection. As Oakland 

 is preeminently a city of roses, so is this Mor- 

 mon Saints' Rest a city of lilacs and tulips. 

 The flowers, at least, are saintly, and they are 

 surely loved. Scarce a home, however obscure, 

 is without them, and the simple, unostentatious 

 manner in which they are planted and gathered 

 in pots and boxes about the windows shows 

 how truly they are prized. 



The surrounding commons, the marshy 

 levels of the Jordan, and dry, gravelly lake 



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