It is at least one
beneficent trace of the early Jesuit Fathers who founded the San Jose
and Santa Clara missions a hundred years ago. They planted an avenue of
willows the entire three miles, and in that rich, moist soil the trees
have grown until their trunks are of enormous size, and their branches,
overarching the highway with their dense shade, make a drive of
unequaled beauty and pleasantness. The horse-cars have now taken away
much of its romance, but in the early days it was famous for moonlight
drives and their concomitants and consequences. A long-limbed
four-year-old California colt gave me a romantic touch of a different
sort, nearly the last time I was on the Alameda, by running away with
the buggy, and breaking it and me--almost--to pieces. I am reminded of
it by the pain in my crippled right-shoulder as I write these lines in
July, 1881. But still I say, Blessings on the memory of the Fathers who
planted the willows on the Alameda!)
An intimation was given the Bishop that if he wanted the name of the
false-swearer who had caused him to be arrested he could have it.
"No, I don't want to know his name," said he; "it will do me no good to
know it. May God pardon his sin, as I do most heartily!"
A really strong preacher preaches a great many sermons, each of which
the hearers claim to be the greatest sermon of his life.
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