A CALIFORNIA BEACH 



part of the world to compare with it. All that I 

 ever saw of it is precious to me, from the sands 

 of Cape Cod to the mountains of New Hamp- 

 shire. In my hours of recollection I protest with 

 one of old, " I take pleasure in its stones, and 

 favor the dust thereof." 



But, alas ! the implacable years are having 

 their way with me; the almond tree begins to 

 flourish; and I no longer relish the thought of 

 those more rigorous chastisements with which 

 our dutiful Puritan mother seeks to toughen her 

 children. Dear old New England ! Thrice dear 

 in absence. But, if I am not yet a lotus-eater, I 

 have ceased to play the stoic. It is time to be 

 comfortable, something tells me ; and so, as bad 

 boys were said sometimes to do in other days, I 

 have run away from school. 



Men of sixty or seventy who proclaim that they 

 feel just as young as ever they did are mostly 

 liars, I think. 



Many years ago, when I was dreaming of a 

 possible visit to the Pacific coast, a bit of dia- 

 logue was rehearsed to me by way of a deterrent 

 consideration. A friend, who has no fondness 

 for cold weather, though, being a more loyal 

 Northerner than some, he will never run away 

 from it, had been quizzing a neighbor recently 

 returned from California. 

 5 



