ave so large a part of the family life
habitually lived in public places.

CHAPTER II

In the heart of San Francisco stands a tall, slender iron pillar, with a
bell hanging from its down-turned top, like a lily drooping on its
stalk. This bell is a northern guide post of the famous El Camino Real,
the old highway of the Spanish monks and monasteries on which still
stand the ruins of the ancient Mission churches and cloisters. We
purpose to drive south the entire length of the six hundred miles of El
Camino Real; and then turning northward to cross the mountain backbone
of the State of California, and to come up through the vast and fertile
stretches of its western valleys, meeting the Lincoln Highway at the
town of Stockton.

It is the morning of the 21st of April when we swing around the graceful
bell, run along Market Street to the Masonic Temple, turn left into
Mission Road, and from Mission Road come again into El Camino Real. We
first pass through the usual fringe of cheap houses, road saloons, and
small groceries that surrounds a great city. Then comes a group of the
city's cemeteries, "Cypress Grove," "Home of Peace," and others. We have
a bumpy road in leaving the city, followed by a fine stretch of smooth,
beautiful cement highway. On through rolling green country we drive, and
into the suburb of Burlingame with its vine covered and rose embowered
bungalows, and its houses of brown shingle and of stucco. The finer
places sit far back from the road in aristocratic privacy, with big,
grassy parks shaded by noble trees in front, and with the green
foothills as a background.

At San Mateo, a town with the usual shaven and parked immaculateness of
highclass suburbs, we have luncheon in a simple little pastry shop. The
woman who gaily serves us with excellent ham sandwiches, cake, and
coffee, tells us that she is from Alsace-Lorraine. She and her husband
have found their way to California. From San Mateo we drive to Palo
Alto, where we spend some time in visiting Leland Stanford University.
The University buildings of yellow sandstone with their warm red tiled
roofs look extremely well in the southern sun. Here are no hills and
inequalities. All the buildings stand on perfectly level ground, the
situation well suited to the long colonnades and the level lines of the
buildings themselves. It is worth the traveler's while to walk through
the long cloisters and to visit the rich and beautiful church, whose