SWAYING TREE TOPS 



spect, and I can see the poppies wav- 

 ing in the trade winds of the Santa 

 Clara, acres of them on either side 

 of the road that runs the length of 

 the valley. Anon, my hat and the 

 wind go away together, but only to 

 lodge among the flowers and thus 

 bring me nearer to them. At even- 

 ing the coast range lies reddened in 

 the sunset fire, and the sound of a 

 bell, somewhere above, floats down as 

 sweet as a vesper from angel-land. 



Another retrospect! At the cor- 

 ner of the two streets was the grocery, 

 with its stand of brooms and keg of 

 olives on the veranda. There, in the 

 late afternoon, we used to meet, buy 

 a few olives and crackers to munch 

 over our books that night, and 

 " joke " the storekeeper because they 



