es
before, and the old year died, and for us the story is finished. But for
Neal and Cynthia a new year and a new life were dawning, and for them
the story had but just begun.

THE END.

RATHER ODD.

"Papa," said Jimmieboy, "you are the nicest man in the world."

"And you are the nicest boy in the world," said his father.

"Yes; I guess that's so," said Jimmieboy. "Isn't it queer how we both
managed to get into the same family."

THE BOMBARDMENT OF THE GOLDEN GATE.

BY YATES STIRLING, JUN.

"A strange fleet is in sight to the westward." This is the startling
report of the telephone from the Farallone Islands, situated
twenty-eight miles nearly due west of San Francisco. The General
receives the report without a sign of the anxiety he feels, and
continues his study of the huge maps before him. He is contemplating the
vast amount of work that has been accomplished in the last three months
since war had been declared. Then San Francisco had been a defenceless
city at the mercy of the most insignificant enemy; now it is as near
impregnable as human skill and ingenuity can make it.

The General takes a lingering look at the maps on his desk; running over
the different forts, he sees with pride that there is nothing left
undone.

[Illustration: Point Bonito. Point Diablo. Lime Point.
Point Lobos. Sutro Heights. Mortar Battery. Mining Station. Fort Point.

BIRD'S-EYE VIEW OF THE GOLDEN GATE.]

On Point Lobos, the southern cape of the outer harbor, on high bluffs,
are three 16-inch rifles mounted on disappearing carriages, the guns, in
the loading position, being behind breastworks of earth and concrete. In
this position the guns are sighted, then going up to the firing position
above the earthwork for only a few seconds on firing, and then recoiling
to their position of safety. On the high land between Point Lobos and
Fort Point are two 12-inch and two 10-inch rifles in Grueson turrets,
the armor consisting of eighteen inches of Harveyized nickel steel. The
turrets are segments of a sphere, and are manipulated similarly to those
on a battle-ship. A little higher up is one of the two formidable
pneumatic guns, the explosion of whose shell within twenty yards of a
ship would send her to the bottom. At Fort Point, the southern cape of
the Golden Gate, in earthworks of old design patched up and
strengthened, are four 10-inch rifles with disappearing carriages. On
the northern cape of the Gate, Point