a chilling breeze while the other side is
toasted. It is not safe for new-comers to be out-of-doors after four or
five o'clock in the afternoon, nor must they ride in open cars except
in the middle of the day. These innocent diversions give the doctors
their support.

Bill Nye, with his usual good sense, refused to drive in a pouring rain
to view the scenery and orchards when visiting San Diego in March, and
says: "Orange orchards are rare and beautiful sights, but when I can sit
in this warm room, gathered about a big coal fire, and see miles of them
from the window, why should I put on my fur overcoat and a mackintosh in
order to freeze and cry out with assumed delight every half-mile while I
gradually get Pomona of the lungs?"

There are many places worth visiting if you can rouse yourselves for the
effort. Point Loma, twelve miles distant, gives a wonderful view, one of
the finest in the world. I warrant you will be so famished on arriving
that you will empty every lunch-basket before attending to the outlook.
National City, Sweet Water Dam, Tia Juana (Aunt Jane), La Jolla--you
will hear of all these. I have tried them and will report.

The Kimball brothers, Warren and Frank, who came from New Hampshire
twenty-five years ago and devoted their energies to planting orchards of
oranges, lemons, and olives, have made the desert bloom, and found the
business most profitable. You will like to watch the processes of
pickling olives and pressing out the clear amber oil, which is now used
by consumptives in preference to the cod-liver oil. Many are rubbed with
it daily for increasing flesh. It is delicious for the table, but the
profits are small, as cotton-seed oil is much cheaper. Lemons pay better
than oranges, Mr. Kimball tells me. Mrs. Flora Kimball has worked side
by side with her husband, who is an enthusiast for the rights of woman.
She is progressive, and ready to help in every good work, with great
executive ability and a hearty appreciation of any good quality in
others.

It does not pay to take the trip to Mexico if time is limited, there is
so little of Mexico in it. After leaving the train and getting into an
omnibus, the voluble darkey in charge soon shouts out, "We are now
crossing the line," but as no difference of scene is observed, it is not
deeply impressive. One young fellow got out and jumped back and forth
over the line, so that if asked on his return if he had been to Mexico
he could conscientiou