Restaurant Life in San Francisco [pp. 465-473]

I868.] RESTA URANT LIFE IN SAN FRANCISCO.
millions less. But very little that is
worth saving is consumed.
We shall need a regenerating fire some
day, to do for books what is done for
the forests. May it be a hot one when
it comes. Let no dry sticks or vermin
escape. Ninety in every hundred books
which have got into our libraries within
the last half century, will fail to enlighten the world until there is one good,
honest conflagration. Something might
be gained from the ashes of these barren
books; therefore, pile on the rubbish,
and use the poker freely. Let not the
fire go out until some cords of pious doggerel, concocted in the name of poetry,
have been added thereto. The giants
will survive the flames; but punk-wood,
moths, and wood-ticks will all be gone.
By a noteworthy coincidence, when
the smell of autumn fruits comes up from
the valley, and the gi'rapes hang in clusters on the hillsides, and wine-presses
overflow, the last sign of dearth is obliterated by the swelling of all hidden
fountains. The earth is not jubilant
without water. The springs which had
been lost, gurgle in the crevices of the
rocks, and streaks of dampness are seen
along the trails, where, in the early
morning, little rivulets ran and interlaced and retired before the sun, There
will be no rain for weeks. There has
been none for months. The trees by
the wayside faint and droop under the
burden of heat and dust. But they
know this signal of the coming rain.
The fountains below seem to know, also,
at what time the fountains above are to
be unsealed; and these pulsing streams
are the answering signal. Shorterdays
and diminished solar evaporation will
answer as a partial clearing up of the
mystery. But if the profoundest truth
has not yet been touched, suppose, Oh
philosopher of many books and many
doubts, that you let your grapnel into
the depths for it? Only be sure that
your line is long enough, and that you
bring no more rubbish to the surface.
There is more truth above ground than
most of us will master. And we stumble over it in field and forest, like luckless treasure hunters; when a ringing
blow upon the dull rock would reveal
filaments of gold or the glancing light of
crystals. There are some truths, also,
whose insufferable light we cannot bear.
They must be shaded off, like half tints
at set of sun. And if any prophet coming out of the wilderness shall dare to
tell more, let him eat his locusts and
wild honey first, for he cannot tell whether he will be crowned or stoned.
RESTAURANT LIFE IN SAN FRANCISCO.
A BROKEN pauper lay a-dying in
a San Francisco hospital. For
weeks his only fare had been the
meager and coarse diet of the eleemrosynary institution in which he found
himself drawing near to the end of
an improvident life. He was surrounded By the bare and comfortless
scenes of a county hospital; yet, looking back over his checkered career in
the country, filled with vicissitudes and
exciting situations, he drew one single
comforting conclusion. He had nothing
to say about his usefulness as a man and
citizen, nor of any ennobling or virtuous
action of his own; but, looking greedily
over the past, he consoled himself with
the emphatic remark: "Well, I have
had a good living, anyhow."
The reader rneed not suppose I have
introduced the sombre figure of the dying pauper into the foreground of this
sketch that his doleful story may point
a moral or adorn a tale. But the unctuous consummation of the life of this
poor Lazarus, whom I have brought out
465