'f& ( ..i (JJ V J mJm jin.. ' s! r*i ^P^ ^ 1 Mm^ • Id i N * >' i ^'H L i 1^ H 5 ^ . j/ilH 1 •>^^ ^^ ^ 2ntd CO^v * > tV»^iji--W* LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. r sy^ — Chap. Copyright No. Shelf....Ei0.4 _24 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA^' nA^ ^^C 27 1898 A Berkeley Year A SHEAF OF NATURE ESSAYS / Edited by Eva V. Carlin Published by the Women's Auxiliary of the First Unitarian Church OF Berkeley, California 898 G5 Copyright, l8g8, by Eva V. Carlin. r P9 k A Berkeley r: Tear Decorated by Louise M. Keeler FROM GENESIS TO REVELAriON For the land is a land of hills and valleys ; and the mountains shall bring peace to the people. A bird of the air shall carry the voice, and that which hath wings shall tell the matter. Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow ; they toil not, neither do they spin : and yet Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. Wisdom hath builded here her house ; she hath hewn out her seven pillars. She is a tree of life to them that lay hold upon her : and happy is the man that retaineth her. It is a good thing to call to remembrance the former times, to remember all the way the Lord, their God hath led the people ; when they were but a few men in number ; yea, very few, and strangers in the land. We have also a sure word of prophecy. Ye shall run and not be weary ; ye shall go out with joy, and be led forth with peace ; for the eyes of the Lord are always upon the land, from the beginning of the year even unto the end of the year. CONTENTS From Genesis to Revelation ..... V The Making of the Berkeley Hills i Joseph Le Conte They Looked Through the Golden Gate ... 9 fVilliatn Carey Jones Lang Syne ......... 19 Edward B. Payne Joy of the Morning ....... 27 Edwin Markham A Glimpse of the Birds of Berkeley . . . . -3* Charles A. Keeler Walks About Berkeley ...... 41 Cornelius Beach Bradley The Trees of Berkeley 49 Edivard L. Greene On Berkeley Hills 55 Adeline Knafp The Love of Life ........ 59 Willis L. Jepson A Berkeley Bird and Wild-Flower Calendar . . 65 Compiled by E-va V. Carlin and Hannah P. Stearns The Making of The Berkeley Hills MONG the many phases of out-door Berkeley, I am asked to give a brief account of that one which interests me most. Some, doubtless, would talk of the beautiful flowers which mantle the hills like an ex- quisitely varied carpet; some of birds, their habits, their color, their song; some would talk of the early history of Berkeley and would give rem- iniscences of the Golden Age of youthful Berkeley. But underlying all these, and form- ing the condition of their ex- istence — without which there never would have been any Berkeley — are the Hills with their rounded and infinitely varied forms, their noble out- look over fertile plain and glistening Bay shut in beyond by glorious mountain ranges through which the Golden Gate opens out on the bound- less Pacific. It was this that decided the choice of the site of the University, and deter- mined the existence of Berkeley. The Making of the Berkeley Hills The I have thus given in few words the prominent geo- Making graphical features ot Berkeley. But how came they to of the be what they are? How were they made and when ? Berkeley These, our beloved Berkeley Hills, were born of the Hills Pacific Ocean about the end of the Miocene or mid-ter- tiary times. They took on a vigorous second growth about the end of the Pliocene epoch. Now, I well know that these terms convey little meaning to most peo- ple. Such persons will immediately ask, " How long ago was this ? How many years ? " I frankly confess I do not know, but I am sure it is at least a million years and perhaps much more. The geologist, you know, has unlimited credit in the Bank of Time, and he is not sparing of his drafts, as no one is likely to dishonor them. As soon as these Hills raised their heads above the ocean, the sculpturing agencies of sun and air, of rain and rivers commenced their work of modeling them into forms of beauty. Slowly but steadily, unhasting yet unresting, the sculpturing has gone on from that time till now. The final results are the exquisitely modeled forms, so familiar, and yet so charming. These Hills, therefore, like all mountains, were formed by upheaval, or by igneous forces at the time mentioned; but all the details ot their scenery — every peak or round- ed knob, every deep canon or gentle swale, is the re- sult of subsequent sculpturing by water. If the greater masses were determined by interior forces, all the lesser outlines — all that constitutes scenery — were due to exte- rior forces. If the one kind of force rough-hewed, the other shaped into forms of beauty. In those golden miocene days, with their abundant rain, their warm climate and luxuriant forest-vegetation, life was even more abundant than now. The sea swarmed with animals of many kinds, but nearly all different from those we now find. The remains of these are still found abundantly in the rocks, and a rich harvest rewards the geological rambler over the hills, with ham- mer in hand. The land, too, was overrun by beasts of many kinds characteristic of the times. Some of these extinct animals, both of sea and land, I think, we must sorely regret; for example: little, three-toed horses, much smaller than the smallest Shetland pony, roamed in herds over our new-born hills. We have not, indeed, yet found them in Berkeley rocks, but abundantly in rocks of the same age not very far away. They probably visited our hills. We cannot but regret that these pretty little horses were too early for our boys, and indeed for any boys, for man had not yet entered to take possession of his herit- age. Again: Oysters, such as would astonish a latter- day Californian, existed in such numbers that they formed great oyster-banks. Their agglomerated shells, each shell five to six inches long, and three to four inches wide, form masses three feet thick, and extending for miles. These are found in the Berkeley Hills; but else- where in California, Miocene and Pliocene oysters are found, thirteen inches long, eight inches wide, and six inches thick. Alas for the degeneracy of their descend- ants, the modern California oyster. And yet, upon second thought, there may be nothing to regret. It may well be that in the gradual decrease in size the flavor The Making of the Berkeley Hills 5 7he has been correspondingly intensified. It may be that Making what was then diffused through a great mass of flesh and of the therefore greatly diluted, was all conserved and concen- Berkeley trated into the exquisite piquancy characteristic of the Hills little California oyster of the present day. If so, we are consoled. But the character of the Berkeley Hills was not yet fully formed. Still later there came hard times for Berkeley. But hard times are often necessary for the perfecting of character, and therefore we do not regret the next age. There was for Berkeley, as for other places, an Ice-age. An Arctic rigor of climate suc- ceeded the genial warmth of Tertiary times. Our hills were completely mantled with an ice-sheet moving sea- ward, ploughing, raking and harrowing their surfaces; smoothing, rounding and beautifying their outlines. The materials thus gathered were mixed and kneaded and spread over the plains, enriching the soil, and preparing it for the occupancy of man — not yet come. Last of all — last stage of this eventful history — came man. When did he come ? Was there a Pliocene man, and was his skull really found in Calaveras ? If any one is interested in this famous controversy, let him consult Professor Whitney on the one side, and Bret Harte on the other. But, certainly, evidences of Prehistoric man are abund- ant all over California, and nowhere more so than in and about Berkeley. Those interested in this subject will find abundant material. I have thus given in bare outline, the birth, growth. and character-making of the Berkeley Hills and Plains, The in preparation for the occupancy of civilized man. The Making work of the Geologist is done. The Historian must of the take it up at this point. I have laid the ground- work; Berkeley others must build thereon. //iy/j- Joseph Le Conte. They Looked Through the Golden Gate EFORE the face of the white man came and showed that na- ture here was to be devoted to exalted ends, the aboriginal in- habitants had dwelt for genera- tions on the shores that front the Golden Gate. They left mementoes of themselves at the embarcaderos o^ the creeks, Tem- escal, Cordonices, San Pablo, in the larger and smaller ** mounds," that tell by their contents of the form and style of man himself, of his utensils and his foods. They looked through the Golden Gate, but not with the keen and perfected vision that responds to high in- tellectual and spiritual emotions. They lived the little life of in- cipient humanity, their hates and loves and a vague surmise of a Great Spirit alone testify- ing to the potentialities of their kind. But one day — March 27, 1772, for 'tis interesting to fix the dates of our scanty anniver- saries — representing the spiritual and temporal arms of Spain, the They Looked Through the Golden Gate II Thej fore-leaders of the gente de razon. Padre Juan Crespi and Looked Lieutenant Pedro Pages, and their dozen companions. Through passed along the Contra Costa shore, and looked through the the Golden Gate. They knew, indeed, that they were Golden opposite the "mouth by which the great estuaries com- Gate municate with the Ensenada de los Farallones." They had left Monterey on March 20th; on the 25 th they had encamped on Alameda Creek, near the site of the later Vallejo Mill, the ruin whereof yet standeth, or the pres- ent Niles. They crossed the San Leandro and San Lo- renzo creeks and reached the beautiful encinal — the oak- clothed peninsula of Alameda. They passed around ** an estuary, which skirting the grove, extends four or five leagues inland until it heads in the sierra," and came out upon the verdant, blooming plain. But the eye, even of the gente de razon, was not illumined. They sought the harbor of San Francisco underneath the prom- ontory of Point Reyes, and searching for that which was valueless, recognized not the surpassing worth of what lay at their feet. They looked through the Golden Gate in vain. But the Franciscans were not to be daunted in their purpose of finding their patron saint's anchorage. And so now they seek it again, this time by sea, and Juan de Ayala, Lieutenant in the royal navy of Spain, in the ship San Carlos, on August I, 1775, sailed through the never-before traversed waters of the Golden Gate into the hospitable harbor. The real San Francisco was illu- sive; this port is now thought good enough to be dedi- cated to the great Saint Francis. 12 Then came the founding of the Mission of San Jose, June II, 1797, under the scholarly Father Lasuen. This prosperous mission and first settlement in Alameda County was from 1803 to 1833 under the charge of the famous Father Duran. Passing up and down the shore in gradually growing numbers the Spanish Californians looked through the Golden Gate, The princely San Antonio rancho, fifteen leagues in extent, was, in 1 8 20, conferred by Governor Pablo Vincente de Sola on Don Luis Peralta. In 1843 Don Luis, in company with his four sons rode across the domain, and with eye and ges- ture surveyed and partitioned it into four shares. The most southerly, in the neighborhood of San Leandro, was assigned to Ygnacio; the next, proceeding north, including Alameda and Brooklyn, to Antonio Maria; the third, covering the Encinal de Temescal, or Oakland, to Vincente, and the northernmost, including the mod- ern Berkeley, to Jose Domingo. Peraltas, Castros, and Pachecos, worthy families in the romantic background of our history, settled along the shore and looked daily through the Golden Gate. The Castro home, at the margin of Cerrito Creek, on the San Pablo highway, screened by the Alta Punta, still yields testimony to the first habitations of the gente de razon. Perhaps a broadening vision was given to the mind that daily fed upon the scene around them. They had anyhow established a settlement and a place of growing allurement to American adventure, ambition and enter- prise. The American came; he looked through the Golden Gate, and his soul was uplifted. Senator Ben- Thej Looked Through the Golden Gate 13 Thej ton had said, his mental vision discerning its true signifi- Loohed cance, *' There is the East; there lies the road to India." Through And Fremont, standing upon the castellated crag of La the Loma, eyes filled with the refulgent beauty of the scene. Golden senses astir with emotion, and mind prescient of poten- Gate tialities, looked through, as well as named, that " road of passage and union between two hemispheres ' ' THE GOLDEN GATE. On his map of 1848 he wrote opposite this entrance " Chrysopylae, or Golden Gate," ** for the same reason that the harbor of Byzantium, afterwards Constantinople, was called Chrysoceras, or Golden Horn." The fifties brought American settlers, Shattuck, Blake, Hillegass, Leonard, and others, who built their homes and prepared the land for the coming army of peacefiil occupants. The American tiller of the soil looked through the Golden Gate, and his own and his chil- dren's minds were made larger and happier by the aspira- tions and ideals it suggested. As Fremont had looked and had beheld with all-en- compassing mind the boundless resources and possibilities springing from nature and from man's puissant hand, so now looked Henry Durant, controlled by one domina- ting thought. " He had set out to seek a place where learning might find a peaceful home on our Pacific shore. ' ' "And he had come to the spot, where," narrates the brilliant Felton, ** rising calmly from the sunlit bay, the soft green slope ascended, gently at first, and then more abruptly, till it became a rugged storm-worn mountain and then disappeared in the sky. As he gazed upon the H glowing landscape he knew he had found it. He had found what he sought through life. Not alone the glory of the material landscape drew froni him the cry, 'Eureka, I have found it! ' Before him, on that beau- tiful spring morning, other scenes, invisible save to him, passed before his mental vision. On the hill that looks out through the Golden Gate he saw the stately edifice opening wide its gates to all, the rich and the poor, the woman and the man; the spacious library loomed up before him, with its well-filled shelves, bringing together in ennobling communion the souls of the great and good of past ages with the souls of the young, fresh starters in the onward march of progress. In its peacefijl walls those who had made a new goal for progress were urg- ing on their descendants to begin where their career had ended, and to recognize no good as final save that which ends in perfect and entire knowledge. And before him in long procession the shadowy forms defiled of those to come. Standing on the heights of Berkeley he bade the distant generations ' Hail ! ' and saw them rising, * de- manding life impatient for the skies ' from what were then fresh, unbounded wildernesses on the shore of the great tranquil sea. ** He welcomed them to the treasures of science and the delight of learning, to the immeasurable good of rational existence, the immortal hopes of Christianity, the light of everlasting truth. " And so, hero and sage, the memory of whose friendship raises me in my own esteem, I love to think of thee. I love to think of thee thus standing on the They Looked Through the Golden Gate 15 They heights of Berkeley, with the strong emotion lighting Looked thy features and the cry * Eureka ! ' on thy lips, as thy Through gaze goes through the Golden Gate to the broad Pacific the Ocean beyond." Golden On March i, 1858, the site was made the permanent Gate location for the College of California, and on April 16, i860, it was dedicated with formal ceremony and a prayer that it might be " a blessing to the youth of this State, and a center of usefulness in all this part of the world." Frederick Billings, name of honored power in the community, had looked, as one of this dedicatory com- pany, through the Golden Gate. His was the inspired function to name the intellectual seat that lay facing Fre- mont's Chrysopylae. The good Bishop of Cloyne, the imperishable philosopher, who had longed for a spot ** so placed geographically as to be fitted to spread religion and learning in a spiritual commerce over the western regions of the world," gave the note to Billings' inspira- tion, who christened the spot that looks eternally through the Golden Gate BERKELEY. By and by others' steps were led to Berkeley, agents of the State and those who not agents were yet lovers of California. Founders of the private college had thought that the mind of youth would be broadened when their imagination might be nourished by soaring afar upon the boundless ocean. And now the planters of the State's University saw the wisdom of those who had chosen Berkeley as education's home, and accepting the gracious gift of private effort, made that the State's intellectual 16 center. And here generations of California's flower of manhood and womanhood have looked through the Golden Gate of ever-broadening insight. Dead and useless is the soul of youth or man, of student or profes- sor, that has not daily, by nature's presence about him, felt his spirit lifted ever to higher things. An education of priceless worth is born within the mind that rightly combines in intimate development the intellectual treas- ures gathered in academic halls and the golden impres- sions that nature here unceasingly lends. Yet once again a prescient eye looks through the Golden Gate. A home of refined and splendid architect- ure is to be builded for a University of worthy achieve- ment and yet richer, nobler possibilities. The world's best genius is invoked to match nature's rarest creation with art's choicest work. The mind of Phebe Apper- son Hearst had looked through the Golden Gate. Wm. Carey Jones. They Looked Through the Golden Gate 17 Lang Syne IRTHS and Beginnings ! — the world will never weary of trac- ing them, that it may say, ** Be- hold here is the seed, the plan- tation, from which this vital growth sprang." Especially so if myth and legend have gath- ered about the genesis of a man or a community, so that origins are obscured in the tinted mists of a far horizon. Ages hence some historian will curiously un- wrap the dreamfolds in which Berkeley's earliest records will then be involved, and the local traditions will have antiquarian corners assigned to them in the libraries of Town and University. That this is not yet, Berkeley cannot reasonably be reproached. It got itself into human time as early as it could, and we must wait patiently until the dust has gathered on the vestiges of its origin and made them relics of antiquity. Time, however, has wrought for us here already an ample per- spective for the pictures of Rem- iniscence. Inasmuch as we can Lang Syne 21 Lang but glance hastily at a few of these, we will not look Syne back too far ; let it be, say, to the first five years of the quarter century that ends with this year of Ninety-eight. Those who dwelt here then should be pardoned if they venture to speak of that period as " the good old times." It was the bucoHc age of Berkeley, which was then, for the most part, about as God and Nature and the plough- ings of a few ranchmen had made it. To be sure. Ed- ucation, in its prime right, had secured and set apart for University grounds some two hundred of the most beau- tiful acres of Nature's wild estate. Also, about a score of dwellings were scattered here and there. But by far the larger part had the appearance of open common. The streets, (then only country roads,) were few; but numerous footpaths ran in all directions and led straight across the fields to everybody's door. There was hardly a right-angled corner to turn, in all the eastern portion of the town. Even the iron rails of the S. P. turned aside in a gracefiil curve to avoid the immovable cabin of Mrs. n. Detached patches of grain and hay ripened under the July sunshine. Everywhere else the assertive tarweed flourished, to smear with its black mucilage the trouser-leg and the trailing skirt. The summer trade- winds caught up a glory of dust into clouds that rivaled the fog. In clear and quiet weather each dwelling en- joyed an unobstructed view of the Bay, and the opening into the Pacific seemed so wide and ample that every resident, from Temescal almost to San Pablo, claimed for his own house the distinction of being ** exactly opposite the Golden Gate." The hills, eastward, held out as to-day their irresistible invitation to the stroller, Lang but wore the grace of a more perfect solitude than now. Syne One might wander there all day and be utterly alone ex- cept for the browsing kine, the bleating sheep, and the inquisitive ground squirrel. The glistening roofs of Oak- land and San Francisco appeared to be farther away than now from the lonely and rugged summit of Grizzly. Indeed, all Berkeley seemed much closer and more akin to nature than to the world of men. Alas ! (though this may be lamentable to only a reminiscent mood,) that a city should have arisen here, driving back the line of Nature's outposts, and covering her simplicities under a crust of civilized improvements ! Even the University was not so imposing as to-day, and seemed to the visitor more like a pioneer home of learning than an institution of world-wide relations and reputation. No one can begrudge to education the mul- tiplied facilities of the present time, but there was much that is memorable in the status of those early days. Characterized as it was by experimentation and the strug- gles incident to scanty resources and the uncertainties of popular support, it challenged the sympathetic and active interest of all lovers of liberal culture, and at all times, the little community here was a unit in championship of the University as against the outcries of prejudiced par- ties throughout the State. Perhaps this committal to a common cause was what gave to the people of the place a social unity also in that period. Moreover, we were hardly many enough then for factions and cliques, and the tracing of those occultly 23 Lang determined lines which mark oiF social zones and tem- Syne peratures. We enjoyed that pioneer sense of a general community of interests which characterizes the early stages of every growing society. Alas ! that it so invari- ably passes, when the tally of social units becomes the census of a multitude ! How will it be, we may wonder, with the one hundred and forty-four thousand, bearing the seal of sainthood, and gathered out of the earth, according to the Apocalypse, to swell the happy popula- tion of heaven ? However it may be with the angelic multitude in the fliture day, it is certain that the distinctly human and earthly dwellers in Berkeley, twenty and twenty-five years ago, were disposed to a generous and genial social grace. The free sociability of that time is a happy memory. The paths joining dwelling to dwelling were the worn ways of an impartial good-neighborhood. So, also, the trails among the hills ; they testified to the ram- ble and loiter of a chummy comradeship unchilled by hesitations. And it was even true that for a considerable time we had here but a single church, in which the variant faiths forgot their divergencies and coalesced in a unity of the spirit for the worship of the One Father. Good old times ! Some of the conspicuous figures of that earlier circle still move in the larger round of Berkeley life. They need not to be named here ; they are among the specially honored citizens of our present day, or hold their places in the University faculty through the deserts of their fidelity, wisdom, and beneficent achievements. Others 24 are now elsewhere in the world of men, putting their Lang hands to useful task and honorable service. And yet Syne others have "crossed the bar," and sailed forth through ** Gates of Gold" to that far continent of our faith, built of *'the substance of things hoped for." May we not fittingly name two or three of these last, in token of a memory as touching them which no autumn of time will cause to fade and grow sere ? Among them was C. T. H. Palmer, whose native keenness of intel- lect, and preeminent social geniality transmuted even a disability into a much appreciated advantage, as an ictus for his ever ready wit, or for the incisive utterance of his unfailing word of wisdom. There was Edward Row- land Sill, whom to know in intimacy was to dwell in the presence of a living poem, in which the notes of Nature, the accents of the Infinite Spirit, and the holy passions of a human soul all sang in harmony, prophesying of vital truth. There, too, was that scholar of foremost rank, the elder Le Conte. For in those days there were two to be venerated and beloved under that honored surname ; although we more habitually "had reverence to them," (to adopt Mrs. Partington's felicitous misuse of a word,) by substituting those titles of special and affectionate dis- tinction — ** Professor John," and ** Professor Joe." There were others also with us then — like Hamilton, who dwelt for a time among the trees on the initial lift of yonder hill — who have since joined the Choir Invis- ible. These are now of those ** shadow men," departed out of the flesh, but living among us still through the 25 Lang vital persistence of the spirit, and our imperishable re- Syne membrance of their words and deeds. But now as these last lines are written the bells are ringing in an autumn day of this 1898. A glance through the open window reveals a new Berkeley, the hale and vigorous growth of a quarter century, testifying to the developing power of time, under the guidance of a dynamic idea such as Education. In this scene the vestiges of the old Berkeley are few, and some of them not easily traced. North and South Halls stand yet on their conspicuous sites, to give way eventually, no doubt, before the already invoked genius of the world, bringing in an architecture proportionate to Nature's work as here displayed. There are also yet to be seen most of the few houses of the former time ; but when memory knocks at the doors it is only to be met by strange faces and new voices. The Old has had its day; the New is here, and prevails in its incontestable right. And while we cherish the reminiscent pictures of the Berkeley that was, we rejoice in the Berkeley that is and is to be. Edward B. Payne. z6 "Joy of The Morning HEAR you, little bird. Shouting aswing above the broken wall. Shout louder yet: no song can tell it all. Sing to my soul in the deep still wood 'Tis wonderful beyond the wildest word: I'd tell it, too, if I could. Joy of the Morning Oft when the white still dawn Lifted the skies and pushed the hills apart, I've felt it like a glory in my heart — (The world's mysterious stir) But had no throat like yours, my bird. Nor such a listener. Edwin Markham. 29 A Glimpse of The Birds of Berkeley Is the seasons come and go, a host of birds tarry within the confines of Berkeley, some to make their nests and rear their broods, others to sojourn for but a brief interval in passing from their summer to their winter haunts, and in the joy- ful return of spring. They in- habit the spreading branches of the live oaks, and the open mead- ows are their home. They dwell in the leafy recesses of the canons and haunt the shrubbery of our gardens. It is impossible to understand our birds without knowing some- thing of their surroundings — of the lovely reach of ascending plain from the bay shore to the rolling slopes of the Berkeley Hills (mountains, our eastern friends call them); of the cold, clear streams of water which have cut their way from the hill crests down into the plain, forming lovely canons with great old live oaks in their lower and more open por- tions, and sweet-scented laurel or bay trees crowded into their nar- rower and more precipitous parts; A Glimpse of the Birds of Berkeley 33 A of the great expanse of open hill slopes, green and Glimpse tender during the months of winter rain, and soft brown of the and purple when the summer sun has parched the grass Birds of and flowers. These, with cultivated gardens and fields Berkeley of grain, make the environment of our birds, and here they live their busy lives. There comes a morning during the month of Septem- ber when a peculiarly clear, crisp quality of the air first suggests the presence of autumn. It is something intan- gible, inexpressible, but to me vital and significant of change. In my morning walk I notice the first red tips upon the maple leaves, and catch the first notes of au- tumn birds. I hear the call of the red-breasted nuthatch, a fine, monotonous, far-away pipe, uttered in a succes- sion of short notes, and upon looking among the live oaks, detect the little fellow hopping about upon the bark. He is a mere scrap of a bird, with a back of bluish gray and a breast of a dull, rusty-red hue, a cap of black and a white stripe over the eye — a veritable gnome of the bark, upon which he lives the year round. In its crannies he pries with his strong, sharply-pointed beak for his insect food, and in some hollow his little mate lays her eggs and rears her brood. With so many woodpecker traits he nevertheless differs widely in struc- ture from that group, being more closely allied to the wrens and titmice. He is with us in greater or less abundance throughout the winter, and his very charac- teristic call may be heard from time to time both in the University Grounds and in the canons. With the nuthatches, come from their northern breed- 34 ing places, the pileolated warblers, and other shy wood- creatures which haunt the quiet, out-of-the-way nooks, and shrink from the presence of man. The pileolated warbler is one of the loveliest, daintiest creatures that visit us. As I walk in my favorite nook in the hills, Woolsey's Canon, to the north of the University Grounds, I see a lithe, active, alert little bird, gleaning for insects among the leaves, now high up among the branches, and again darting hither and thither downward to where the fine thread of water has formed a pool, there to bathe an instant and then, with a lightsome toss of spray flirted from its wings, to resume its quest among the bay leaves. It is a waif of gold with a crown of jet, and its song, a sweet, sudden burst of woodland music, is quite in keeping with the singer. Let me picture my canon in the autumn time, when the open hill-slopes are covered with tarweed and dead grass, and the country roads are deep in dust. There is a quiet, almost sacred feeling about the place, shut in by steep hill-slopes, crowded with bay trees through which the sun filters in scattered beams, and carpeted with ferns and fallen leaves. Bulrushes, with their long, graceful filaments encircling their jointed stems, spring from the tangle of shrubbery, and the broad, soft leaves of the thimbleberry, now beginning to turn brown, fill in the recesses with foliage. Great slimy, yellowish-green slugs cling to the moist rocks, and water-dogs sprawl stupidly in the pools. A loud, ringing call sounds above as a flicker comes our way and announces his presence with an emphatic A Glimpse of the Birds of Berkeley 35 A ye up ! He is with us all the year through, and an inter- Glimpse esting fellow, I have found him. Not wholly a wood- of the pecker, and yet too closely related to that family to be Birds of widely parted, he is an anomaly in the bird world. Berkeley Sometimes he alights upon the ground and grubs for food like a meadow lark, while again he hops in true wood- pecker fashion upon the tree trunk, pecking holes in the bark. He has the proud distinction of being the only California bird which habitually intermarries with an eastern representative of the genus — the golden-shafted flicker of the Atlantic States and the red-shafted flicker of the Pacific region intermingling in a most bewildering way, so that hybrids are almost as numerous in some sec- tions as the pure species. The flicker is a large, showy bird, somewhat greater than a robin in size, with a conspicuous white rump- patch, and with the shafts and inner webs of the wings and tail colored a bright scarlet. The male bird is also adorned with a streak of the same color on each side of the throat. The back is brown, closely barred with black, and the under parts are pinkish buff, marked with a large black crescentic patch on the breast and conspicu- ous round black dots on the lower portions of the body. In the spring time the flickers bore a deep hole in a decayed oak Hmb and the mother bird lays there ten or more of the most beautiful eggs which ever gladdened a mother bird's heart, save that I fear her little home is too dark to give her so much as a peep at her treasures. They are white, with a wavy texture, like water marks in the shell, and, when fresh, beautifully flushed with pink, 36 more delicate in color than a baby's ear. When the A young brood are all hatched what a clamoring and call- Glimpse ing there is about that hole, what an array of hungry of the beaks are thrust out awaiting the morsel that the busy Birds of parent carries to them I But now, in the autumn time, Berkeley the family cares are ended and the flicker roams the wood- land contented and well fed. Long may his piercing, buoyant call ring amid our hills, and his coat of many colors adorn our landscape! I cannot speak of noisy birds without recalling the jays, for they are the noisiest, rollicking, happy-go-lucky fellows that make their home in our canons. They laugh and screech by turns, they question and scold. Even when on the wing they utter a succession of loud, insistent call notes, and upon alighting, mischievously question in a shrill squeak, '* well? well? " I am speak- ing of the California jay which is the common species about Berkeley, — a long, rather slender fellow, without a crest such as the blue-fronted jay of the redwoods possesses. Its back is colored blue and brownish gray, and its breast is a lighter gray, edged and faintly streaked with blue. Its manners are often quiet and dignified when sitting still and eyeing an intruder, not without a half scornful, half inquisitive glance, I fancy ; but with a sudden whim it is aroused to animation, flirting its tail, bending its head on one side and suddenly fluttering away with a loud laugh. Another of my caiion friends is the wren tit, a bird which is found only in California, and without a coun- terpart, so far as I am aware, the world over. It is a 37 A friend y little fellow, considerably smaller than a sparrow. Glimpse but with a long tail usually held erect in true wren fash- of the ion. Its plumage is soft and fluiFy and its colors as Birds of sober as a monk's, brown above and below, but some- Berkeley what paler on the under portions where a tinge of cinna- mon appears. The wren tit is a fearless, friendly little creature, hopping about in the tangle of blackberry vines almost within reach of my outstretched hand, but so quiet are its colors and so dense the thickets which it inhabits, that the careless eye might well overlook it. The little low chatter which it utters tells us of its pres- ence, and if we wait quietly for a moment it may even favor us with a song. It is a simple strain, a high- pitched pipe — tit— tit— tit— t r r r r r e ! but a sweet and characteristic note in our caiions. As autumn moves on apace the winter birds assemble in foil force. The golden-crowned sparrows come flock- ing from their Alaskan and British Columbian homes, and the Gambel's white-crowned sparrows from their breeding places in the mountains, — the one adorned with a crown of dull gold, black bordered, and the other vdth a head marked with broad stripes of black and white. Both have backs ot streaked brown and gray, and breasts of buff or ash. They are among our com- monest and most familiar winter residents, dwelling in our gardens as well as in the thickets among the hills, and singing even during the milder rains. The call note of both species is a lisping tsip, and their songs have the same quality of tone — a fine, high, long-drawn whistle. I have written down the most usual song of each species 38 in musical form, and repeat them as follows. The golden-crowned sparrow sings : 8va $ The song of Gambel's sparrow is a trifle more elabo- rate, commencing on an upward scale, instead of the downward, as in the former case. Loud and clear comes from the rose bushes the treble whistle : 8va. ^ -^ "^t. ^t -^ ♦ Gambel's sparrow sings not only all day long but occasionally at night. Often upon a dark, misty night in February or March I have heard a sudden burst of bird music, and recognized the very clearly-marked strains of this bird. Coming out of the dark, damp night, so sud- den and so beautiful, and followed by so perfect a calm, I know of no more impressive bird music. When the rainy months of winter are ended and the meadow lark is sounding his loud, rich strains from the field, and the linnet is fluttering and bubbling over with song, a host of merry travelers come hurrying to our trees and gardens. The jolly little western house wren A Glimpse of the Birds of Berkeley 39 A bobs about in the brush, and, as the wild currant puts Glimpse forth its first pink, pendulous blossoms, the beautiful little of the rufous humming-bird comes to dine upon them. I know Birds of not how he times his visit so closely, but certain it is Berkeley that the pungent woody odor of these blossoms is in- separably linked in my mind with the fine, high, insect- like note of these pugnacious little mites in coats of shim- mering fire, that come to us from Central America at the very first intimation of spring. In April arrive the summer birds, full of the joy of the mating season. The Bullock's oriole, clad in black, orange, and gold, sings its loud, elated strain from the tree tops, the black-headed grosbeak carols in the or- chard, the lovely, little, blue-backed, red-breasted lazuli bunting warbles in the shrubbery, and finally, the stately, russet-backed thrush, quiet and dignified in his coat of brown, with white, speckled breast, the most royal singer of our groves, sends forth upon the evening air such sweet organ tones that the whole night is full of melody. I would that our birds might receive some measure of the appreciation which is due them, and that we might all turn at times trom the busy affairs of life to listen to their sweet songs and winning ways. May they ever find within the confines of Berkeley a haven of refuge from that merciless persecution which is steadily reduc- ing their numbers. May they find here loving friends ready to champion their cause, and may they ever be considered the chief ornament of our hills and gardens ! Charles A. Keeler. 40 Walks About Berkeley [E casual observer might find very little of promise in the Berkeley hills to lure him on to their ex- ploration. Their brown slopes, wrinkled and threadbare as the sleeve of a hunter's jacket, seem to reveal to the very first glance all that they hold in store. No surprise, surely, can be waiting for one on those bare, open hill- sides. The imagination pictures no secret nooks, no wooded ra- vines, no crag or waterfall behind the straggling screen of fern and scrub that fringes its waterways. Yet, after all, the charm of sur- prise is a veritable feature of the walks about Berkeley — surprise not keen and startling, to be sure, but genuine and of the quality that does not pall by frequent repe- tition. Thus it is that the num- ber and variety of these rambles is a source of unending pleasure to those who have come to know them. There is a large gradation too in their extent and in the effort they require: — the quiet saunter up Strawberry Caiion in the gloam- ing, the long afternoon ramble Walks About Berkeley 43 Walks over the hills to Orindo Park, the all-day tramp by the About Fish Ranch to Redwood Canon and Maraga Peak, or Berkeley more strenuous still, the cross-country trip to Diablo. You may follow the quiet country lanes with pastures, orchards, and grain-fields dotted about here and there among the enveloping wildness. You may even find abandoned roadways leading nowhither, constructed at large expense by some one who surely was a lover of his kind, and now bequeathed to your sole use and be- hoof. You may thread some cool, mossy ravine where the stream runs deep in its rocky channel, under a close roof of alders and redwoods. Or you may breast the steep slope, each step opening up a wider and wider prospect, until from the east you catch the exultant flash of Sierra snows, and on the west, far beyond Golden Gate and Farallones, you gaze with awe on the immen- sity of the Pacific. I do not mean to weary the reader with an itinerary of these various routes, or a tabulation of their peculiar charms. Such things are best learned when they come with the zest of discovery. To one quaint nook only would I oiFer to conduct my reader, and with the more reason, perhaps, because while it is easy enough of ac- cess, it seems to be very little known. The place is called Boswell's, though why so called I have never been able to guess. The name suggests human habitation at least, if not also vulgar resort and entertainment; but both suggestions are wide of the mark. Our visit shall be on some bright morning in April. We take the train to Berryman station, and zig-zagging thence northwest- 44 ward, we soon are clear of the thin fringe of dwelling- houses, and out among the fields. Our course so far has been as if for Peralta Park; but instead of turning sharply down to the west at the margin of a little creek, we cross the bridge, and follow the country lane north- ward. When the lane also turns abruptly westward, some half-mile further on, we abandon it altogether, continuing our former direction over fields and fences, and across two little waterways. Beyond the second rivulet we reach a broad slope thickly strewn with rocks and boulders, and dotted about with low trees and shrubs. This is Boswell's. The air all along has been fvill of the sounds and scents of spring: — the gurgling notes of the meadow- lark, the rich smell of newly ploughed fields, the warm breath of mustard in bloom. But this untamable rock- strewn area, like the Buddhist monasteries of the far east, has become a veritable sanctuary for plants and liv- ing creatures that could not maintain themselves in the open in their unequal struggle with that fell destroyer, man. Here the wood-rat has piled undisturbed his huge shelter of sticks. The warbler and the thrush are sing- ing from every covert. The woodpecker and the squir- rel shadow you from behind tree-trunk or rock to dis- cover your intent in trespassing thus upon their private domain; while the flycatcher flashes his defiance in your very face, if you venture too near his mate on her nest. Nor is it otherwise with the plants. Delicate species that are fast disappearing before cultivation — the blue nemophila, the shy calochortus, the bright pansy-violet — Walks About Berkeley 45 Walks bloom here undisturbed in all their pathetic beauty. About "If God so clothe the grass of the field, which to-day Berkeley is, and to-morrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith? " But we linger here too long upon the threshold. The tract is a considerable one, and midway there is thrust up into it from the west a sombre wedge of eucalyptus forest, contrasting strangely with the rest of the scene. For here we seem to be in a region three thousand miles away, — in a veritable bit of New England hill-pasture with its labyrinthine paths, its ever-changing short vistas, its endless series of little secluded alcoves walled about with shrubbery and carpeted with grass and flowers. The rocks too are of striking size and form, and culmi- nate near the lower end of the tract in a bold, fantastic crag, in itself well worth the effort to visit it. But the most unlooked-for feature of the place is its air of remote- ness and seclusion. Here it lies, spread out on the open hillside, in full view from bay and from town. Yet as we thread its quiet alleys, or lie dreaming in the sun- shine under the lee of its rocks, we seem to have journeyed leagues from the work-a-day world we left behind us but an hour ago. It is good to be here ! And good it is also to return to the world. The joy of the scene and the season, the clearer brain and quickened pulses we shall bring back with us as we take up again the effort and struggle. And more than this we may sometimes bring from such a sanctuary, — some heavenly vision, — some far-seen glimpse of a transfigured life that may be ours, — in the 46 strength of which we shall go many days, even unto the Walks mount of God. Jbout Cornelius Beach Bradley. 47 The Trees of Berkeley ^!^CinbCr American Pipit. Abundant in floclcs in open fields. HlfflS Oregon Junco (Snow Bird). Lincoln's Finch. Fairly common in winter. Say's Pewee. Moderately common winter resident. Red-breasted Sapsucker. Rather rare winter visitant. Harris's Woodpecker. Fairly common in winter. Varied Robin. A shy, solitary, but common winter visitant. In the sculptured woodland's leafless aisles, The robin chants the vespers of the year. Alfred Austin. All great forms, inanimate or alive, in time, in space, or in mind, are His shadows : all voices, language, music, the inspired word, the sounds and breathings of nature are His echoes. MOZOOMDAR. Shrubby Monkey-Flower. Steep south hillsides. DOliXtnbCr Solanum or Nightshade. Strawberry Canon. rlOWCfS Coffee Berry. Canons, and borders of thickets in the higher hills. There is no glory in star or blossom Till looked upon by a loving eye. William Cullen Bryant. There's beauty waiting to be born, And harmony that makes no sound. Mrs. a. D. T. Whitney. Winged clouds soar here and there Dark with the rain new buds are dreaming of. Percy Bysshe Shelley. 89 December Lewis's Woodpecker. An occasional winter visitant. DirdS Hutton's Vireo. Fairly common during the winter. Oregon Towhee (Catbird). Audubon's Warbler. A common winter resident. Townsend's Sparrow. Solitary, scratching among the leaves. Gambel's White-crowned Sparrow. One of the few birds that sing during the winter. Golden-crowned Sparrow. In song. Samuel's Song Sparrow. Sings at times during the winter. The sparrows are all meek and lowly birds. They are of the grass, the fences, the low bushes, the weedy wayside places. Nature has denied them all brilliant tints, but she has given them sweet and musical voices. Theirs are the quaint and simple lullaby songs of childhood. John Burroughs. Gently and clear the sparrow sings While twilight steals across the sea, And still and bright the evening star Twinkles above the golden bar That in the west lies quietly. Celia Thaxter. 90 If Winter comes, can Spring be for behind ? DCCCItlbCf Percy Bysshe Shelley. riWW*r> Toyon or California Holly. University grounds and Canon. Mistletoe. Wild Cat Creek. Laurel. Along Strawberry Creek, and climbs in dwarf form to top of Grizzly. Can this be Christmas — sweet as May, With drowsy sun and dreamy air, And new grass pointing out the way For flowers to follow, everywhere ? Edward Rowland Sill. Before beginning, and without an end, As space eternal and as surety sure. Is fixed a power divine which moves to good ; In dark soil and the silence of the seeds The robe of Spring it weaves. The Light of Asia. Edwin Arnold. 91 OD wills that, in a ring, His blessings shall be sent From living thing to thing, And nowhere stayed nor spent. John W. Chadwick. 92 ONE THOUSAND COPIES OF THIS BOOK HAVE BEEN PRINTED ON STRATHMORE PAPER, FROM THE TYPE, AND TYPE DISTRIBUTED, IN THE MONTHS OF OCTOBER AND NOVEMBER, A. D. MDCCCXCVIII, IN SAN FRANCISCO AT THE SHOP OF THE STANLEY- TAYLOR COMPANY.