From John O'Groat's to Land's End search
I have not one rod, pole or perch,
To pay my rent or tithes in church,
That I can call my own.
—Hood.
OAKLAND is a delightful city, well laid out, in the county of
Alameda, on the east bank of the bay, which at this point is
inconveniently shallow. To meet this difficulty the Central
Pacific Railroad Company was, in order to answer the demands of
an immense traffic to and from the great city, put to an
enormous expense, by running a solid way with a double track of
steel rails out one and a half miles to deep water, the terminus
sufficiently widened whereon to build an extensive depot, which
is, for comfort and convenience to the traveling public,
surpassed by none. In addition to the above grand facilities the
same corporation, for the privilege of running their trains
through one of the streets of Oakland, agreed for a term of
years to run a train to and fro every half hour, with nine
convenient stoppages, without any charge, much to the infinite
delight of Young America, who, to the annoyance of passengers
and regardless of danger, play at hide-and-seek on the train.
The drives around Oakland are remarkably beautiful, and the
kindness we received at the hands of our
neighbors can never be forgotten. By means of their carnages we
visited every spot of interest within reach, and at great
expense a neighbor of Clara's treated us to a journey to an
entertainment at the Hotel Del Monte, at Monterey, which trip,
together with the privilege of enjoying the rich country leading
thereto, is held in grateful remembrance; al.;o the pleasant
ride among the foot-hills of Berkeley, under favor of the same
family. Within a radius of ten miles this may be safely
pronounced one of the most wonderful and beautiful spots on the
continent of America. This eastern shore of the bay is teeming
with population: Berkeley, Brighton, Oakland, Alameda, might be
said to be one town, and away beyond, ascending the foot-hills
where my daughter Clara dwells. Still further out among these
beautiful hills, are the chalybeate springs of Piedmont, a
favorite place of public resort, where there is a
well-patronized hotel, reachable for ten cents from the center
of Oakland by street cars. The springs trickle from the rocks at
the bottom of a very deep, romantic dell, and are evidently much
impregnated with metallic substances, and are said to be
eminently medicinal,—in short, a perfect panacea for
certain diseases. From the neighboring heights are
attainable rich views of the surrounding scenery, including the
bay and its islands, and Lake Merritt. Here, also, is Mountain
View Cemetery, ramifying among the beautiful foot-hills, teeming
with roses of such varied tints and perfection as I never beheld
in the east, all sheltered under the bolder mountains in the
distance whose somber majesty makes the scene so bewitchingly
complete.
To the north and west of this spot, on rising ground, is the
bathing ground of Alameda, where we spent a week. This is a
place of great resort during the bathing season, and a number of
merchants across the bay-make a permanent residence here, who
show great taste in their splendid gardens. As a public drive
the contemplated boulevard around Lake Merritt will be the
finest on the continent.
The University of California is situated among the foot-hills
of Berkeley, a few miles to the north of Oakland. The buildings
are plain and substantial, and the grounds arc extensive and
well laid out, and adorned by a mountain stream running through
a romantic glen, whose banks are ornamented with rich foliage
and the finest and most grotesque-shaped oaks I ever beheld.
From the buildings and the elevated grounds behind you obtain
the most advantageous view of the celebrated Golden Gate, the
bay, with its islands and its thriving towns in every nook,
teeming with a healthy population.
Within a few miles of this delightful spot is Shell Mound
Park, one of those enchanting places of public resort which
appear in California to be much in requisition, and of which, I
must say, the supply is more than equal to the demand. Picnicing
is here reduced to a science. Churches, Sabbath and secular
schools, societies open and secret, professions, trades,
nationalities, pioneers antique and modern, all have their
clubs, and all relax their labors by the periodical picnic.
The Scotch, famed for their cordial affiliation with the
inhabitants of the country of their adoption, are here
emphatically at home.
In Oakland we hired the house of Mr. Smith, on Sycamore
street, which was furnished, intending to remain till we
departed for the east. This is a lovely spot, centering within
convenient reach of the finest drives through splendid scenery
such as I have never before beheld, with an endless variety of
roses and geraniums and all the hardier flowering plants in full
bloom, perfuming the air with their rich effulgent beauty now,
while I dot it down, this Christmas morn of 1884. Would that my
pen were graphic enough to do justice to the blessings by which
we are here surrounded, but, like all mundane things, they are
evanescent, and the hour is silently but surely approaching when
the dreaded word "farewell" must be pronounced. We flatter
ourselves that the parting pain is shared by dear Clara, by her
family, and by her numerous Oakland friends, who have proved so
kind to us. |
