ifornia, and though
many people may have taken it up from an idea that it is the correct
thing, the game will always be popular, especially in the Southern part
of the State, where more people of leisure live than in the Northern
part, and where the large infusion of British and Eastern residents
tends to foster a love of out-door sports. Golf may be played in any
part of Central or Southern California on any day in the year when a
gale is not blowing or heavy rain falling. Occasionally the strong
winds render golfing somewhat arduous, but the enthusiast can play on
about three hundred and fifty days in the year.

ARTHUR INKERSLEY,
in _Overland Monthly._

SEPTEMBER 7.

My roses bud and bloom and fail me never,
From Lent and Whitsun to the Christmas time;
Climbing in eagerness and great endeavor--
Our Southland bushes ever love to climb.

JAMES MAIN DIXON,
in _My Garden._

How bright the world looked, to be sure; flowers covered the earth, not
scattered in niggardly manner as in the older, colder Eastern states,
but covering the earth for miles, showing nothing but a sea of blue, an
ocean of crimson, or a wilderness of yellow. Then came patches where
all shades and colors were mixed; delicate tints of pink and mauve, of
pure white and deep red, and over all floated a fragrance that was
never equaled by garden-flowers or their distilled perfume.

JOSEPHINE CLIFFORD McCRACKIN,
in _Overland Tales._

SEPTEMBER 8.

The love that gives all, craves all, asks nothing, is so bitter that no
one lifts the cup voluntarily, and yet if the sweetness of it could be
distilled, prosperous love would regard it enviously and kings seek it
on foot.

AMANDA MATHEWS,
in _Hieroglyphics of Love._

The world will never be saved from its sin and shame until a larger
number of men are ready to lash themselves like Ulysses of old to those
enduring principles of righteousness which stand erect like masts and
sail on, no matter what sirens of personal indulgence sing along the
course.

CHARLES REYNOLDS BROWN.

SEPTEMBER 9.

TO CALIFORNIA:

Queen of the Sunset!
Within the crown upon thy forehead glow
The crystal jewels of eternal snow.
Down at thy feet the broad Pacific towers,
And Summer ever binds thy breast with flowers.

MADGE MORRIS WAGNER,
in _Debris._

The religious life of California is characterized by the spirit of
freedom and tolerance. The aim has been to "Render