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[22]
heads, an opening in the mountain side.
There lie the lodes; there run the seams of coal.
Yon cleft, to which no native climbs, conceals a future town, just as this acorn hides a future oak.
Two foreign artists come into these parts.
For what?
To grow their beards, to bronze their cheeks, to shake the dust of Paris from their feet.
A gay Bohemian circle welcomes them to San Francisco; where a man may smoke and laugh, sitting over his cakes and ale, into those mystic hours which brush away the bloom from youthful cheeks.
This circle gives them Mont Parnasse; but they are born for higher flights than Mont Parnasse.
Donning their Indian pants and jackets, Monsieur Tavernier grasps his sketch-book, Signor Franzeny loads his gun. Each has an eye for nature, and observes her moods with care; noting how sunlight plays with colour in the sea, and how metallic veins add lustre to the earth.
Seeking for beauty, they find a seam of coal.
These young adventurers are tapping at the mountain side, assisted by some friends from San Francisco, trusting that the seams will float into their trucks and sheds.
If so, a street will
1875.
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