Twenty Fill Hollow 
make you a new creature indeed. Or, choked 
in the sediments of society, so tired of the 
world, here will your hard doubts disappear, 
your carnal incrustations melt off, and your — 
soul breathe deep and free in God’s shoreless 
atmosphere of beauty and love. 
Never shall I forget my baptism in this font. 
It happened in January, a resurrection day for 
many a plant and for me. I suddenly found 
myself on one of its hills; the Hollow overflowed 
with light, as a fountain, and only small, sun- 
less nooks were kept for mosseries and ferneries. 
Hollow Creek spangled and mazed like a river. 
The ground steamed with fragrance. Light, 
of unspeakable richness, was brooding the 
flowers. Truly, said I, is California the Golden 
State — in metallic gold, in sun gold, and in 
plant gold. The sunshine for a whole summer 
seemed condensed into the chambers of that 
one glowing day. Every trace of dimness had 
been washed from the sky; the mountains were 
dusted and wiped clean with clouds — Pacheco 
Peak and Mount Diablo, and the waved blue 
{ 211 ] 
