saw what I took to be a procession
of the K. K. K. It proved to be citizens in flu masks. I was interested,
but not alarmed; whereas a lady tourist who debarked on the following
day fell in a swoon and was conveyed to the hospital. The newspapers
charged her disorder to the masks, but as she was from Chicago I suspect
that her reason was unsettled by the sudden revealment of a clean city.
And Pasadena is clean--almost immaculate. I was obliged to join the
masqueraders, and I found the inconvenience only slight. The mask keeps
the nose warm after sundown, and is convenient to sneeze into. And I
have never remarked better looking folks than the people of Pasadena.
The so-called human race has never appeared to better advantage. The
women were especially charming, and were all, for once, equally
handicapped, like the veiled sex in the Orient.

* * *

Whoever christened it the Pacific ocean was the giver of innocent
pleasure to every third person who has set eyes on it since. "There's
the Pacific!" you hear people exclaim to one another when the train
reaches the top of a pass. "Isn't it calm! That's why it is called the
Pacific. And it is pacific, isn't it?" Some such observation must have
escaped the stout adventurer in Darien, before he fell silent upon his
peak.

* * *

I shall say nothing about the never to be sufficiently esteemed climate
of California, nor even allude to the windjammers of Loz Onglaze. The
last word concerning those enthusiasts was spoken by a San Francisco man
who, addressing the people of "Los," explained how the city might
overcome the slight handicap imposed by its distance from the sea. "Lay
an iron pipe to tidewater," he advised; "and then, if you can suck as
hard as you can blow, you will presently have the ocean at your doors."
It would be difficult to improve on that criticism. And so, instead of
praising the climate, I will gladly testify that it is easier to live in
this part of the country than anywhere east of the Sierras. And San
Diego impresses me as the easiest place in the state to live, the year
round.

* * *

The mechanical effort of existence is reduced to its minimum in La
Jolla, a suburb of San Diego, where I am opposing a holiday indolence to
pen these desultory lines. "There's lots of good fish in the sea" that
beats against this rockbound but not stern coast, and there is a fish
market in the village. But each d