A Truthful Woman in Southern California | Page 4

for weeks. I expected constant sunshine, a
succession of June's fairest days, which would have been monotonous,
to say nothing of the effect upon crops and orchards. The rainy season
is necessary and a blessing to the land-owners, hard as it is for
"lungers" and the nervous invalids who only feel well on fine days and
complain unreasonably.
Ten inches is the average needed just here. Rain is rainy and wet
weather is wet, but the ground dries as soon as the pelting shower is
over. I do not find the raw, searching dampness of our Eastern seashore
resorts. Here we are said to have "dry fogs" and an ideal marine

atmosphere, but it was too cold for comfort during the March rains for
those not in robust health.
As I sit in the upper gallery and watch the throng issuing from the
dining-room, I make a nice and unerring social distinction between the
Toothpick Brigade who leave the table with the final mouthful
semi-masticated, and those who have an air of finished contentment.
The orchestra is unusually good, giving choice selections admirably
executed. I have not decided whether music at meals is a blessing or
otherwise. If sad, it seems a mockery; if gay, an interruption. For one
extremely sensitive to time and tune it is difficult to eat to slow
measures. And when the steak is tough and a galop is going on above,
it is hard to keep up.
Among the many fleeting impressions of faces and friends here, one or
two stand out clearly and indelibly--stars of the first magnitude in the
nebulæ--as dear Grandma Wade from Chicago, the most attractive old
lady I ever met: eighty-three years old, with a firm step, rotund figure,
and sweet, unruffled face, crowned with the softest snow-white curls,
on which rests an artistic cap trimmed with ribbons of blue or delicate
heliotrope, and small artificial flowers to match. I have known several
interesting octogenarians, but never one that surpassed her in loveliness,
wit, and positive jollity. Her spontaneous fun is better than the labored
efforts of many a famous humorist.
She still has her ardent admirers among men as well as women, and
now and then receives an earnest proposal from some lonely old fellow.
The last of these aged lovers, when refused and relegated to the
position of a brother, urged her to reconsider this important matter,
making it a subject of prayer. But she quietly said, "I'm not going to
bother the Lord with questions I can answer myself." When choked by
a bread-crumb at table, she said to the frightened waiter, as soon as she
had regained her breath, "Never mind, if that did go down the wrong
way, a great many good things have gone down the right way this
winter."

She is invariably cheerful, and when parting with her son for the winter
she said, "Well, John, I want to know before I go just what you have
left me in your will!" which little joke changed a tear into a smile.
Even when ill she is still bright and hopeful, so that a friend exclaimed,
"Grandma, I do believe you would laugh if you were dying;" and she
replied, "Well, so many folks go to the Lord with a long face, I guess
He will be glad to see one come in smiling."
Oh, how repulsive the artificial bloom, the cosmetics and hair-dyes
which make old age a horror, compared with her natural beauty! God
bless and keep dear Grandma Wade!
Little "Ted" is another character and favorite, and his letter to his nurse
in New York gives a good idea of how the place affects a bright,
impressionable child.
"My dear Julia: It is a dummy near the hotel and it takes five days to
come here and there is an island right beyond the boat house and they
have a pigeon shoot every week. And there is six hundred people here
Julia, one hundred and fifty came yesterday.
"There is a mountin across the river and a house very far away by itself,
Julia. I play in the sand every day of my life, and I take swimming
lessons and I have two oranges. California is the biggest world in the
country and there is a tree very, very far away. Julia it is a puzzle walk
near the hotel, Rose and me went all through it and Julia, we got our
way out easy."
He has it all. All the trees are cultivated here, so I looked round for the
one Ted spoke of, and find it lights up at night and revolves for the aid
of the mariners. I think that all Californians echo his sentiment that
"California is the biggest world in the country"; and compared with the
hard work