as related, by his munificent bequests to charity, and above
all to pure science. When one looks at his carpenter's bench, preserved
as a relic of his workman's life, and then at his tomb in the still
silence and darkness of the great telescope chamber, and then remembers
all that this silent, lonely man has done, one cannot but believe that
he had in heart, all along, great ideals which none of those about him,
in the vulgar strife of life, ever imagined. What can be more unlike a
narrow, selfish, unlovable, and avaricious man than his splendid
offering of a fortune to keep eternal watch upon the stars?

These thoughts danced through one's brain in presence of it all. We
were grateful to the old man, whose face, singularly like that of John
Brown of Harper's Ferry fame, seemed to embody the tragedies and
aspirations of life; and we thought of his silent dust beneath us, as
through his gifts we looked at Jupiter and his moons, and noted the
strange belts which band the planet, brought near to us by the lens of
the Lick telescope. We saw also the crested edge, glittering like
molten silver, of the moon of this our own planet, and longed to wait
until Saturn should rise, and other wonders open before us. Professor
Schaeberle made me the fascinating offer to stay all night, and go down
the mountain in the early morning; but I kept with the party, and, well
after eleven at night, we started on the home run down the mountain to
San Jose.

The coming up was grand indeed, but the going down was better. The
great moon flung its radiance over the vast expanse. It was a symphony
in gray and silver. It was a downward plunge into black mysteries of
overhanging mountains. It was delirious with possible dangers. It set
one's heart throbbing, and the best relief we could have was in song
and shout which roused the echoes of the night.

We subsided into silence when we reached safety and the plain, and were
rather bored than otherwise, as we cantered into the deserted streets
of San Jose at half-past two o'clock in the morning. How tame seemed
the dull surroundings of even that pretty place at such an hour--a few
saloons yet aglare, a light in an occasional window, all the rest
ghostly, silent, and yet commonplace, too, after our splendid excursion
to the stars.

XVI

Sunday at San Jose.--The Big Trees.--The Fruit Farm at Gilroy.--Hotel
del Monte.--The Ramble on the Beach.--The Eighteen-Mile Drive.--Dolce
far Niente.