Around the Southern Californian home of the loving twain the roses are in perpetual bloom. The vines are laden with clustered grapes, the peach and the apricot trees bend under their loads of luscious fruit, the milch cows yield their creamy milk, the honey-bees laying in their stores of sweet spoil, the balmy air breathes fragrance, the drowsy hum of life is the music of peace. EDMUND MITCHELL, in _Only a Nigger._ JANUARY 19. CALIFORNIA SONG. DEDICATED TO GEORGE WHARTON JAMES. Proud are we to own us thine, Land of Song and Land of Story, All thy glory Round our heart-hopes we entwine, In our souls thy fame enshrine, California! Dear to us thy mystic name, Leal-land; Love-land; Land of Might, We would write On the walls of Years thy fame, With thy love a world inflame, California! Dear to us thy maiden grace, Dear thy queenly Motherhood, Fain we would Keep the sun-smiles on thy face, Worthy live of thy strong Race, California! Land of Beauty! Blossom-land! Land of Heroes, Saints and Sages, Let the Ages Witness all thou canst command From each loyal heart and hand, California! S.A.S.H. JANUARY 20. I always appreciate things as I go along, for no knowing whether you'll ever go the same way twice in this world. ALBERTA LAWRENCE, in _The Travels of Phoebe Ann._ JANUARY 21. MOUNT TAMALPAIS. Home of the elements--where battling bands Of clouds and winds the rocks defy-- Mute yet great, old Tamalpais stands Outlined against the rosy sky. His darkened form uprising there commands The country round, and every eye From lesser hills he strangely seems to draw With lifted glance that speaks of wonder and of awe. It is the awe that makes us reverence show To men of might who proudly tower Above their fellow-men; the glance that we bestow On one whose native force and power Have lifted him above the race below-- The pigmy mortals of an hour-- We almost bend the knee and bow the head To the mighty force that marks his kingly tread. MRS. PHILIP VERRILL MICHELS, in _Readings from the California Poets._ JANUARY 22. Broadly speaking, California is the only _elective_ State. Its people are not here because their mothers happened to be here at the time; not as refugees; not as ne'er-do-wells, drifting to do no better; not even, in bulk, as joining the scrimmage for more money. They have come by deliberate choice, and a larger proportion of them, and more single-heartedly, for home's sake than in any other as large migration on record. CHARLES F. LUMMIS, in _The Right Hand of the Continent, Out West, August_, 1902. JANUARY 23.