During the same period the region east of the Sierras, now embraced in the States of Nevada, and the Territories of Utah and Arizona, was an inland sea, connected with the Pacific by straits and inlets. The evaporation from this body of water affected materially the climate of the adjacent regions. Lowering, as it must have done, the general temperature, and increasing the humidity, it induced precipitation from the saturated winds of the Pacific, while from its own evaporation it added materially to the rainfall it thus invited. From these causes, the precipitation of that period, both as to volume and duration, must have been greatly in excess of the present, and vegetation must have been correspondingly more luxuriant. From the slopes of the mountain ranges the waters flowed southerly in a majestic stream, forming broad lakes as the basin widened, a river where the narrowing valley restricted its borders, until, passing through the bay of San Francisco and the present valleys of Santa Clara and Pajaro, it found an outlet in Monterey Bay. In the era that measured the

existence of this ancient river, it had borne in its turbid waters the disintegrations of the regions it traversed, and in the ooze and slime of the lakes that intercepted its course and stilled its current, was the decaying mold of generations of forests that had flourished on its banks.

At a later geological period-probably the Quarternary-there was an upheaval of the southern part of this basin, its axis probably being near the present course of the Salinas River. With this rise came a depression in the bay of San Francisco. The drainage was now to the north. The Coast Range was broken through at the Golden Gate, and the waters of the great basin found there their outlet to the sea; while the former lakes, uplifted and drained, were transformed into fertile plains. During the same period, the sea that lay to the east of the Sierras was cut off from the Pacific. The evaporation of this now land-locked basin was in excess of the rainfall, and gradually these waters receded, until today Salt Lake is the remnant of that inter-ocean which once extended through thirty degrees of latitude, and from the Rocky Mountains to the Sierras. This, the recent history of these regions, the geological records upon every hand fully attest— here by beds of water-worn pebbles, by strata of clay (always the deposit of quiet waters) that underlie the whole valley, by the trunks of trees that the drill of the well-borer discovers hundreds of feet beneath the surface, and by the vast deposit of vegetable mold that forms everywhere the surface soil of the valley; while to the east, mountains of marine shells and fossils, vast beds of salt, beach lines, upon the slopes of the mountains, attest the existence of the sea that left these proofs of its presence, and wrote with its fretful waves the story of its long companionship upon these rugged cliffs, and then shrank from them forever.

With the subsidence of this sea, there came that change in climate which now characterizes this coast. The vapors from the Pacific

were now absorbed by the dry air of this region, and the precipitation which the sea had promoted, the desert now prevented. The classification of these seasons as wet and dry often misleads-for while the latter is all that the term implies, the rainy season has as much of sunshine as of storm, as the records abundantly show. A brief epitome of these seasons and the attendant phenomena will be given.

Beginning with the month of October, the signs of a coming change are apparent. The winds, no longer constant and from one quarter, become variable both as to direction and force, or wholly cease. Sudden blasts raise miniature whirlwinds of dust and leaves, which troop over the fields, and the stillness of the night is broken by fitful gusts, and the sudden wail of the trees as the breath of the coming winter sweeps through them. These are the recognized precursors of the season's change, and are usually followed in the first ten days of October by an inch or more of rain; and this usually by weeks of the finest weather. The effect of these first rains is magical. The dust is washed from the foliage, and is laid in the roads and fields. The air has a fresh sparkle and life. The skies are a deeper azure, and the soft brown hills seem nearer and fairer than before. It is the Indian summer of the East, but instead of the soft lassitude of the dying year, here it comes with all the freshness and vigor of the new-born spring. If in this and the succeeding months there are further showers, the grass springs up on every hand, and the self-sown grain in all the fields. The hills change their sober russet for a lively green. Wild flowers appear in every sheltered nook. Hyacinths and crocuses bloom in the gardens, and the perfume of the violet is everywhere in the air.

In the latter part of November the rainy season is fully established. A coming storm is now heralded by a strong, steady wind, blowing for a day or two from the southeast, usually followed by several days of rain, and

these succeeded by days or weeks without a cloud-and thus alternating between occasional storms and frequent sunshine, is the weather from October to April-the rainy season of California. The amount of rain that falls, varies materially with the locality. In San José it is from fifteen to twenty inches, while in places not ten miles distant, twice that amount is recorded. During this period there are from thirty to forty days on which more or less rain falls; from fifty to seventy that are cloudy; the rest, bright and pleasant. These estimates will vary with particular seasons; but taking the average of a series of years, it will be found that from October to April one-half the

days are cloudless,

and fully

three-fourths such that any out-door

vocation can be carried on without discomfort or inconvenience. Cyclones and windstorms are wholly unknown, and thunder is only

ceases. The grasses have ripened their seed, and, self-cured and dry, are the nutritious food of cattle and sheep. The fields of grain are yellow and ripe, and wait but the reaper. Forest trees and shrubs have paused in their growth. This to the vegetable world is the season of rest. This is the winter of the Valley of Santa Clara-winter, but strangely unlike winter elsewhere, for here man has interposed. Here, by art and by labor, he

heard at rare intervals, and then as a low rumble forty miles away in the mountains.

With the month of March, the rains are practically over, though showers are expected and hoped for in April. Between the 1st and 10th of May there usually falls from half to three-fourths of an inch of rain. Coming as this does in the hay harvest, it is neither beneficial nor welcome. By the 1st of July the surface moisture is taken up and dissipated, and growth dependent upon this

In

has reversed the processes of nature, and ́ constrained the course of the seasons. gardens bright with foliage and resplendent with flowers, there is spring in its freshness and beauty; while in orchards teeming with fruits, and vineyards purple with ripening grapes, summer and autumn vie for the supremacy. And so with changing beauty and ceaseless fruition pass the seasons of this favored clime.

The Californians' estimate of the climate

of their State has been the theme of much facetious comment. In view of the fact that elsewhere, those who are able, spend half the year on the St. Lawrence or the coast of Maine, to escape the heat of summer, and the other half in Cuba, Florida, or on the shores of the Mediterranean, to avoid the rigors of winter; that, in fact, most of their lives are migrations in search of climate; the residents of this State may accept with equanimity the badinage of these birds of passage, and may well felicitate themselves upon those conditions that bring to their very door the summer of the Thousand Isles and the winter of the Antilles.

That this is not an exaggeration is easily shown. Thermometrical records, however accuately kept, are quite apt to mislead those who seek to deduce from these, practical results. There are many important conditions not expressed in these observations. It is well understood that from the dryness of the air, forty degrees below zero is more tolerable in Dakota than thirty degrees higher in the humid air of the Atlantic seaboard; and for the same reason, and almost in the same ratio, as to heat. It would be but little consolation to a person to know that some thousands of miles away, the temperature from which he was suffering would be quite endurable. So as to averages, which usually form a conspicuous feature of these records. It is not from the averages, but from the extremes that men suffer and vegetation dies. Nor do even the extremes represent the effect -their continuance is important. A plant often survives a severe frost, and then succumbs to a much lighter repetition, and a degree of heat which may be endured for a day, becomes intolerable when continued for several. In view of these well recognized facts, I propose to present the question of temperature as shown by effects, which are readily appreciated by all, rather than from compilations of figures thus liable to mislead.

The rains of October are usually followed by frosts sufficiently sharp in the lowlands of the

valley to kill the more delicate plants. During the months of December, January, and February these frosts are more frequent and severe. Every variety of grapes, figs, olives-in short all the semi-tropic plants-remain unaffected by the frosts. Callas, fuschias, geraniums and heliotropes, when grown by the wall of a house, in the shade of an evergreen, or given the slightest covering, flourish and bloom through any winter, and in many seasons do so without any protection whatever. As a rule, however, where exposed, the tops of these plants are killed; the roots remain unaffected, and by the middle of April the new shoots are again in bloom. Every known variety of rose flourishes without the least protection, and not only do they retain their leaves, but there is not a day in the winter when blossoms, hardly inferior to those of June, cannot be gathered in the open grounds of any garden, The lemon verbena shrub here attains a height of from ten to twenty feet, with a trunk from two to ten inches in diameter. Bees increase their stores during the rainy season, and every clear day, humming birds and butterflies appear in the gardens. For personal comfort, fires are usually started in the morning, die down toward noon, and are rekindled for the evening. As little fire as can be kept burning, usually suffices for comfort. There are days, stormy, damp, or cold, when more fire is required. Such days are the exception, however, and the rule is as stated. Within the last twenty years, snow has fallen in San José on three occasions. In no instance was it over three inches in depth. It disappeared before nightfall of the day on which it fell, and its presence transformed the usually staid and orderly city into a snowballing carnival.

In the dry season, beginning with April, the mornings are clear, calm, and not unpleasantly warm. About noon, a brisk breeze from the Bay blows down the valley. This, harsh as it sweeps in through the Golden Gate, is soft and mild here. It goes down

with the sun, and the night that follows is calm and cool. A high light fog sometimes hangs over the valley in the morning, but disappears by eight or nine o'clock.

During the summer months, three or four heated terms may be expected. These are usually in periods of three days, and the thermometer indicates from 90° to 95° Fahrenheit. Upon the morning of the fourth day a fog generally appears, a cool breeze springs up, and the former temperature is restored and maintained for weeks before another heated term. As these periods are the extreme of the season, some indicia will be given by which they may be understood and estimated. Through a part of these days, exposure to the sun is disagreeably hot, but not dangerously so. Under the shade of a tree, or in the shelter of a well-constructed house, it is perfectly comfortable. The evenings that follow are so cool that persons rarely sit upon the porches of their houses, and a pair of blankets is required for comfort while sleeping.

Summarizing, it may be said that in any part of the year, days too hot, or too cold for the comfort of those engaged in ordinary outdoor vocations are rare, and that a night uncomfortably warm is absolutely unknown. It may be added that the fears and forebodings with which the seasons are elsewhere greeted, are here unheard of; coming with no rigors, they bring no terrors, and are alike welcomed by all, not as a relief, but as a change. In these conditions health and personal comfort are largely subserved, and also in them the horticultural possibilities, of which we are to-day but upon the threshold, are assured; and these, the elements of present and of prospective prosperity, are as constant as the ocean currents in which they have their origin, as permanent as the mountain ranges which bound the field of their exhibition.

The county of Santa Clara has an area of rather less than one million acres. Of this, about 250,000 acres is valley-the ancient lake bed, or the alluvial deposits of existing

streams; 300,000 acres is rolling hills and mountain slopes, well adapted to fruit; the residue valuable principally for pasturage. While the general contour presented by the valley is that of a level plain, it is in fact a series of gentle undulations, with marked variations in the quality of the soil. In what is now, or has recently been, the lower portions of this plain, the soil is a black, tenacious clay, known as "adobe." It is very fertile and productive, but requires much care as to the time and manner of cultivating it, and is well adapted to hay and grain. The higher lands of the valley are a light loamy and sometimes gravelly soil. This is easily cultivated, and is well adapted to all the cereals and to most varieties of fruit. In the vicinity of the Bay, there are many thousand acres of salt marsh. No effort worthy the name has been made to reclaim them, though the task would seem a not difficult one. It is safe to predict that at no distant day these lands will be reclaimed, and among the most productive and valuable in the county. The warm belt is a tract upon the slopes of the hills that environ the valley. It has an altitude of from two to eight hundred feet. It is generally and in some localities whollyfree from frost. In this belt, to the east of Milpitas, potatoes, peas, etc., are grown through the whole winter for the San Francisco market. Upon the Los Gatos and Guadaloupe Rivers are some hundreds of acres formerly dense willow thickets, but now in the highest state of cultivation. These lands are regarded as the most desirable in the valley. The soil is a sedimentary deposit, easily cultivated, requiring but little irrigation, and producing every variety of fruit and vegetable.

Thirty miles south of San José is the town of Gilroy. The soil of the valley is here fertile and productive. Over a considerable portion, the subterranean moisture maintains the growing pastures throughout the year, and some of the most successful dairies in the State are here established. The more elevated parts of the valley and the slopes of the