OVERLOOKING THE FOG.
An old gun, now rusty, lying beside its
gun-carriage on the bluff, was the first fog signal
established on the Pacific Coast by the government. In foggy
weather it was discharged every hour and a half during day
of the cliff near the keeper's dwelling the life-saving station whose crew do much effective work about these jagged-headlands. Bidding good-bye to the keeper, we turned our backs on Bonita and started homeward. We had been so engrossed with the Point and its environs as to be unconscious of the flight of time, and, noting with surprise the waning afternoon, we urged our horses to a brisk pace and sped rapidly along the elevated roadway.
The sun was slowly approaching the edge of the horizon, and Bonita, still visible in the West. stood out a silhouette
THE FIRST FOG SIGNAL.
against a brilliant sky. At its feet lay outstretched the
gorgeously illoumined sea; some fleecy golden cloudlets,
floating over the Gate, seemed a soft shower of petals from
the State's fair emblem; while the mellow light of the
departing day still rested lovingly on the loftiest
hilltops, and over on the city side occasional windows
reflected his glory, as with a spot of glistening gold. To
the southward the blue misty tones of the Santa Cruz
Mountains began to merge into their robes of approaching
Then there came to me those beautiful
lines of our own poet, Lowell Otus Reese: