The California Birthday Book / Prose and Poetical Selections from the Writings of Living California Authors with a Brief Biographical Sketch of each

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Prose and Poetical Selections
from the Writings of Living California Authors
with a Brief Biographical Sketch of each

Edited and Arranged, with an Introduction,



Arroyo Guild Press
Los Angeles, California


To the dearest and best
Literary Partner
man ever had:


whose critical discernment and fine judgment
have materially aided in making the
selections for this book.



California—land of the brightest dreams of our childhood; of the passionate longings of our youth; of the most splendid triumphs of our manhood. California—land of golden thoughts, of golden hills, of golden mines, and of golden deeds.


This book, as its title-page states, is made up of selections from the writings of California authors. Most of the selections refer to California—her scenic glories, mountains, valleys, skies, canyons, Yosemites, islands, foothills, plains, deserts, shoreline; her climatic charms, her flora and fauna, her varied population, her marvellous progress, her wonderful achievements, her diverse industries. Told by different authors, in both prose and poetry, the book is a unique presentation both of California and California writers. The Appendix gives further information (often asked for in vain) about the authors themselves and their work. It is the hope of the compiler that the taste given in these selections may lead many Californians to take a greater interest in the writings of their fellow citizens, and no interest pleases an author more than the purchase, commendation, and distribution of his book.

If this unpretentious book gives satisfaction to the lovers of California, both in and out of the State, the compiler will reap his highest reward. If any suitable author has been left out the omission was inadvertent, and will gladly be remedied in future editions.

1098 North Raymond Avenue
Pasadena, California.
October, 1909.



Hearken, how many years

I sat alone, I sat alone and heard

Only the silence stirred

By wind and leaf, by clash of grassy spears,

And singing bird that called to singing bird.

Heard but the savage tongue

Of my brown savage children, that among

The hills and valleys chased the buck and doe,

And round the wigwam fires

Chanted wild songs of their wild savage sires,

And danced their wild, weird dances to and fro,

And wrought their beaded robes of buffalo.

Day following upon day,

Saw but the panther crouched upon the limb,

Smooth serpents, swift and slim,

Slip through the reeds and grasses, and the bear

Crush through his tangled lair

Of chaparral, upon the startled prey!

Listen, how I have seen

Flash of strange fires in gorge and black ravine;

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