sound, just as scenery
moves, according to the state of the atmosphere. The islands shift as
if enchanted, now near and plain, then removed and dim. The bay
widening, sapphire blue, or narrowing, green and gray, or, before a
storm, like quicksilver.

EMMA FRANCES DAWSON,
in _An Itinerant House._

APRIL 17.

Although we dread earthquakes with all their resultant destruction,
yet it is well to recognize the fact that if it were not for them we
would find here in California little of that wonderful scenery of
which we are so proud. Our earthquakes are due to movements similar to
those which, through hundreds of thousands of years, have been raising
the lofty mountains of the Cordilleran region. The Sierra Nevada
range, with its abrupt eastern scarp nearly two miles high, faces an
important line of fracture along which movements have continued to
take place up to the present time.

HAROLD W. FAIRBANKS,
in _The Great Earthquake Rift of California._

APRIL 18.

APRIL EIGHTEENTH.

Three years have passed, oh, City! since you lay--
A smoking shambles--stricken by the lust
Of Nature's evil passions. In a day
I saw your splendor crumble into dust.
So vast your desolation, so complete
Your tragedy of ruin that there seemed
Small hope of rallying from such defeat--
Of seeing you arisen and redeemed.
Yet, three short years have marked a sure rebirth
To splendid urban might; a higher place
Among the ruling cities of the earth
And left of your disaster but a trace.
Refined in flame and tempered, as a blade
Of iron into steel of flawless ring--
City of the Spirit Unafraid!
What wondrous destiny the years will bring!

LOUIS J. STELLMAN,
in _San Francisco Globe, April_ 18, 1909.

APRIL 19.

O, EVANESCENCE!
(SAN FRANCISCO.)

I loved a work of dreams that bloomed from Art;
A town and her turrets rose
As from the red heart
Of the couchant suns where the west wind blows
And worlds lie apart.
Calm slept the sea-flats; beneath the blue dome
Copper and gold and alabaster gleamed,
And sea-birds came home.
But I woke in a sorrowful day;
The vision was scattered away.
Ashes and dust lie deep on the dream that I dreamed.

HERMAN SCHEFFAUER,
in _Looms of Life._

APRIL 20.

SAN FRANCISCO.

What matters that her multitudinous store--
The garnered fruit of measureless desire--
Sank in the