p. 12 | BEAUTIFUL CALIFORNIA by James White

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Jan 10, 1878

BEAUTIFUL CALIFORNIA.

By James White

The State of California is putting on her green garments. There has been considerable rain this season, and the mountains and valleys are looking green. While we pen these lines the rain is gently falling. Farmers are now plowing and sowing in earnest, and the young blade of new wheat is casting a shade of green across the rich valleys. The tender grass invites the numerous herds of cattle, horses, and sheep to climb the mountain sides. And the birds are here more numerous and in greater varieties than can be found in summer in the Eastern States.

What a contrast with New England. There ponds and rivers are freezing, and wheels will soon be exchanged for runners. The robin and other sweet singers have gone to a warmer clime, winter has begun in earnest, and the ground will soon be closed by frost. We here mingle with families of children grown in the State who have never seen the ground covered with snow, and who inquire, “What kind of looking things are sleighs, skates, and sleigh-bells?” Yet these young people are not without their means of amusement, which are quite as enjoyable as the sleigh-ride, or skating on thanksgiving day. These young men and women have ponies at their command, which they mount and gallop across the green valleys, and over the roads which wind up among the mountains.

We have seen about fifty of those severe eastern winters, and decide that we wish to suffer no more of them. Our escape to this mild, beautiful climate was timely. As we were shaking the hand of Mr. Meacham, Esq., when we left Battle Creek, he expressed the wish that we might return when the birds should sing. But they are singing here now. We have no objection to returning with them and hearing their merry songs in good Michigan, if it please God. However, we shall be careful not to go in advance of them. The distance is a long, weary one, and we cannot go as easily and cheaply as they, and having passed the distance already nine times, we may wait until money is more plenty before going over the mountains a tenth time.

We are now looking around for a retired home at some healthful location. Oakland is as beautiful a city as can be found on the globe; but there is too much work and care there, of which we have already had too much at the sacrifice of mental improvement and health. At present, we divide our time between carriage and horseback riding and walking. When the rainy season shall close, we hope to find happy employment in the cultivation of flowers and small fruits, when not engaged in the work to which God has called us.

Christmas eve has come with the usual preparations to please the children, according with the time-honored custom of professing Christians. But there are no chinking sleigh-bells here as in some parts of New England. Instead, we hear the happy notes of the robin. These seem very happy now, and in a few weeks will build their nests and establish family regulations. Beautiful California is full of birds, the most beautiful of which, both in dress and song, are never seen in cold climates.

But California, like all other fertile countries, has its evils. Extravagance, idleness, and drunkenness curse this fair land. The Puritans were, in the providence of God, landed on the rock-bound shore of New England to keep them pure. Nearly all the purity of Europe is crowded up in Norway, Sweden, and Denmark. We urge none to come to California excepting for health. The air is pure, the climate mild, and the scenery delightful. In a few weeks the valleys and mountain sides will be covered with flowers, which for variety and beauty will fully equal those produced by the great Rochester florist, Vick.

But there is a heavenly land where there will be no frosts, no excess of cold and heat. To that “evergreen shore” our eager, longing eyes are turned. No drunkard can enter the kingdom of Christ and of God. There will be neither sin, sorrow, nor death there. “O that beautiful world!” “We’ll be there in a little while,” where the dim beauties of this land will not be “remembered nor come into mind.” Here we are separated by distance and by death. But happy reunions hasten.

“Roll swiftly round, ye wheels of time, And bring the welcome day.”

J. W.