I 
 
Leland Stanford, Jr. 
 
STANFORD UNIVERSITY 
 
 AND 
 
 THEREABOUTS 
 
 BY 
 
 O. L. ELLIOTT 
 
 AND 
 
 O. V. EATON 
 
 fW^ 
 
 i Of Cj- 
 
 ! APR gniB9Ri 
 
 r% %H ^ / 
 
 San Francisco 
 
 C. A. MuRDOCK & Co., Printers 
 1896 
 
Copyright, 1896 
 
 BY 
 
 O. L. Elliott 
 
 Half-tones by the 
 
 Sunset Photo & Engraving Co. 
 
 San Francisco 
 
 

 The thajiks of the authors are especially due to 
 Mr. Harold Heath, Mr. Arthur F. Poole, Mr. Horner 
 Laughlin, Jr., Mr. D. W. Murphy, a?id Mr. W. R. 
 Shaw, for the use of photographs, and for other 
 assistance in the preparation of the book. The map 
 on page 23 is taken by permissioji from N. F. Drake's 
 relief map of California. 
 
 March 2, i8g6. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 The Founders 9 
 
 The Trustees 12 
 
 The Estate 21 
 
 The University 25 
 
 Special Mention 52 
 
 Athletics — University Extras — Summer School — 
 Hopkins Laboratory. 
 
 The Surroundings 61 
 
 Palo Alto — Mayfield — Private Grounds — Arbo- 
 retum — Escondite — Cedro — Adelante, Los Tran- 
 cos — Stock Farm. 
 
 Tramping Grounds 71 
 
 Foothills — Mountains — Awheel. 
 
 The Seasons 77 
 
STANFORD UNIVERSITY 
 
 AND 
 
 THEREABOUTS 
 
Mr. Stanford. 
 
THE FOUNDERS. 
 
 I ELAND STANFORD was born at Watervliet, near Albany, New 
 York, March 9, 1824. His father was a public-spirited farmer, 
 J who added to his regular occupation road and bridge building, 
 and finally railroad grading in the infant days of railroad building in 
 the State. Young Leland grew up on the farm, with the usual 
 succession of farm duties and district schooling, and at twenty-two 
 went to Albany to study law. His law studies completed, he turned 
 to the West for a start in his profession and settled at Port Washing- 
 ton, a frontier town of Wisconsin. After four years of steady work, 
 nearly all his worldly possessions, including his law library, were 
 destroyed by fire. This was in 1852. The California fever was then 
 at its height, and unexpectedly adrift, he gravitated naturally to the 
 Golden State, where three brothers had already preceded him. 
 With them he entered into extensive mercantile operations in Sacra- 
 mento and the adjacent mining country, and in the course of the 
 next eight years amassed the comfortable fortune of a quarter of a 
 million dollars. In i860, he was chosen a delegate to the convention 
 that nominated Lincoln, afterward witnessed the inauguration, and 
 remained in Washington some weeks, holding frequent consultations 
 with the President regarding Pacific Coast affairs. From Washington 
 he went to Albany for a long visit, and with the half-formed intention 
 of settling down for life in the old home. But he soon discovered 
 that his deepest interests were in California, and in midsummer he 
 returned to find himself already nominated for Governor by the new 
 Republican party. He was triumphantly elected, and in the trying 
 days of the Civil War was able to render material aid to the cause 
 of the Union. Before his term of office expired, he became deeply 
 interested in the project of a transcontinental railway, and, declining 
 a renomination, threw all his energies into the project of the Central 
 Pacific Railroad. 
 
 It is difficult, after this lapse of time, to realize the stupendous 
 nature of the task which Leland Stanford and his coadjutors had 
 
Stanford University and Thereabouts. 
 
 undertaken. To the then almost insoluble engineering problems 
 were added the difficulty of obtaining materials for construction, 
 the ridicule and skepticism of the public, the bitter hostility of threat- 
 ened interests, and the vast financial burdens to be borne. The 
 building and management of the road and its extending lines and 
 interests absorbed Mr. Stanford's main energies for a quarter of a 
 century. Meantime his private fortune had grown to vast pro- 
 portions, and with ample means to indulge his tastes and lesser 
 ambitions there came a deepening sense of the responsibilities and 
 opportunities which wealth brings. And so out of "the shadow of a 
 great sorrow" — the death of his only child — grew the conception 
 realized in the University. In 1885, he was elected to the United 
 States Senate, and reelected in 1891. His death occurred at Palo 
 Alto, June 21, 1893. 
 
 Jane Lathrop Stanford, daughter of Dyer Lathrop, merchant, 
 was born in Albany, New York, in 1828. She was married to Mr. 
 Stanford in 1850, sharing with him two years of pioneer life at Port 
 Washington. Her life in California is naturally bound up with the 
 great undertakings of her husband. Sympathy, kindliness, affection, 
 are the qualities which have been most conspicuous in her home 
 and public life. With these has gone a business faculty which en- 
 abled her to share to the full the busy labors, the hopes and plans, 
 of Mr. Stanford; and it is this quality which has come out so strikingly 
 in her management of the complicated affairs so suddenly thrust 
 upon her by the death of her husband. Besides all this, she has 
 given generously of both money and personal attention to many 
 private interests of her own. Especially is this true of the kinder- 
 garten work on the coast, in which she became early and deeply 
 interested. Since the death of Mr. Stanford, she has, with heroic 
 courage and self-denial, devoted herself wholly to the University. 
 
 10 
 
Mrs. Stanford. 
 
THE TRUSTEES. 
 
 THE first meeting of the Board of Trustees was held in Mr, 
 Stanford's parlors, in San Francisco, November 14, 1885. At 
 this meeting the Grant of Endowment was formally conveyed 
 to the Trustees and announced to the public. By the terms of the 
 Endowment, the sole management of the University and its properties 
 is vested in the grantors during their lives, or the life of either 
 of them. The time for active participation, therefore, on the part 
 of these Trustees has not yet arrived; but eventually the whole man- 
 agement and control of all the endowments and offices of the Uni- 
 versity will be vested in their hands. The Board is self-perpetuating, 
 and the members are elected for life. Of the original twenty-four 
 named by Mr. Stanford, the following have died : Judge Lorenzo 
 Sawyer, first Chairman of the Board; the Hon. James McMillan 
 Shafter, the Hon. Henry Vrooman, Mr. Josiah Stanford, the Hon. 
 John F. Miller, Judge Matthew P. Deady, the Hon. John Q. Brown. 
 There is at present one vacancy, caused by the resignation of Justice 
 Stephen J. Field. The present Trustees are : 
 
 Francis Elias Spencer, San Jose, Chairman of the Board. 
 Born at Ticonderoga, New York, September 25, 1834. Came to Cal- 
 ifornia in 1852, settling at San Jose. Studied law, and was admitted 
 to the bar in 1858. District Attorney of Santa Clara County, i86r-66. 
 Member of the State Assembly, 1871-75. Judge of the Superior 
 Court of Santa Clara County, 1879-91. 
 
 Charles Goodall, San Francisco. Born in Somersetshire, 
 England, December 20, 1824. Came to New York in 1841. Tried 
 farm life for two years, and in 1843 shipped from New Bedford for a 
 three years' whaling voyage. Came to California m 1850 and tried 
 mining, but went back to a seafaring life. Returning to San Fran- 
 cisco, founded the commercial house of Goodall, Perkins & Co. Has 
 been Harbor Commissioner, and served one term in the Legislature. 
 
 12 
 
. Stanford University and Thereabonts. 
 
 Alfred L. Tubes, San Francisco. Born in Deering, New Hamp- 
 shire, December, 17, 1827. At seventeen entered into the wholesale 
 grocery business, finally becoming cashier and bookkeeper for a large 
 Boston house. Was sent to California by the firm in 1850. Estab- 
 lished in San Francisco the mercantile and manufacturing house 
 ofTubbs&Co. State Senator, 1865-69. Country residence at Calis- 
 toga, purchased in 1882. Visited Europe in 1868-69, and spent winter 
 of 1890-91 in Egypt. 
 
 Charles Frederick Crocker, San Francisco. Born in Sacra- 
 mento, December 26, 1854. Educated at the California Military 
 Academy and Brooklyn (N. Y.) Polytechnic Institute. Entered the 
 service of the Central Pacific Railroad in 1877, eventually becoming 
 Third Vice-President. Vice-President of the Southern Pacific Com- 
 pany since the death of his father; President of the Occidental and 
 Oriental Steamship Company; President of the Board of Trustees 
 of the California Academy of Sciences; Regent of the University 
 of California. 
 
 Timothy Hopkins, Menlo Park. Born in Augusta, Maine, March 
 2, 1859. Came to California in 1862. Educated in public schools 
 of Sacramento and Urban Academy, San Francisco. Entered the 
 service of the Central Pacific Railroad as Division Superintendent in 
 1881. Treasurer of the Central Pacific and Southern Pacific Com- 
 panies from 1883 to 1892. Made a trip to Japan in 1891, and visited 
 Egypt and the countries of Europe in 1893-94. 
 
 Henry Lee Dodge, San Francisco. Born in Montpelier, Ver- 
 mont, January 31, 1825. Entered the University of Vermont in 1847, 
 but was obliged to leave college before finishing his course on account 
 of ill health. Was afterward awarded an honorary degree. In 1847, 
 began the study of law in Burlington, Vermont. Came to California 
 in 1849, by way of Mexico. Clerk of the Alcalde's Court in San 
 Francisco in 1849, ^""^ clerk to Mayor Geary after the admission 
 of California in 1850. Practiced law from 1851 to 1856, when the 
 present mercantile house of Dodge, Sweeney & Co. was formed. 
 Supervisor in 1861-62, and State Senator, 1863-67. Superintendent 
 of the Mint, 1877-82. President of the San Francisco Chamber 
 of Commerce, 1885-86. Elected President of the Sather Banking 
 Company, 1877. President of the San Francisco Board of Education 
 since 1895. 
 
 13 
 B 
 
Stanford University and Thereabouts. 
 
 Irving Murray Scott, San Francisco. Born at Hebron Mills, 
 Maryland, December 25, 1837. Learned iron and wood working 
 trade, and studied marine engineering and mechanical drawing in 
 Baltimore. Came to California in i860. Chief Draughtsman, Union 
 Iron Works, 186 r; Miners' Foundry, 1862-63. Superintendent and 
 General Manager, Union Iron Works, 1863; partner, 1883. Regent 
 of the University of California, 1878-80. Has been president of many 
 local societies, and is a member of numerous clubs. President Cal- 
 ifornia World's Fair Commission, 1893. Around the world in 1880. 
 Visited Europe in 1892, and Japan in 1895. 
 
 Harvey Willson Harkness, San Francisco. Born in Pelham, 
 Massachusetts, May 25, 182 1. Educated in public schools and Mt. 
 Williston Seminary. Graduated in medicine (M. D.) from the 
 Pittsfield Medical School. Came across the plains in 1849, ^i^<^ began 
 the practice of his profession in Sacramento. The year 1869, and 
 two or three following years spent in travel; then engaged in scientific 
 work for the San Francisco Microscopical Society and the California 
 Academy of Sciences. President of the California Academy of Sci- 
 ences, 1887-96. 
 
 Horace Davis, San Francisco. Born in Worcester, Massachusetts, 
 March 16, 1831. Graduated from Harvard College, 1849. Began the 
 study of law, but prevented by ill health from finishing course. 
 Came to California in 1852, Established Golden Gate Flouring 
 Mills in i860. Member of Congress from San Francisco district, 
 1876-80. President of Chamber of Commerce, 1883-85. President 
 of the University of California, 1888-90. President of the California 
 School of Mechanical Arts (Lick Mechanical School) since its estab- 
 lishment. Vice-President of the American Unitarian Association. 
 
 John Boggs, Princeton. Born at Potosi, Missouri, July 2, 1S29. 
 Entered Fayette College, but left before completing course, and 
 came to California in 1849. Engaged in mining and stock raising, 
 finally turning his attention entirely to farming. Owns many thousand 
 acres in Colusa and Tehama Counties, and is an extensive grower 
 of wool. County Supervisor, 1857-66, and State Senator, 1871-75. 
 
 Thomas Bard McFarland, San Francisco. Born near Mercers- 
 burg, Pennsylvania, April 19, 1828. Graduated at Marshall College 
 
 14 
 
K ^ ^ 
 
 r ^,^. 
 
 a- 2 H: 
 
 P 
 
 « ^ o 
 
 s^. 
 
 
 ^3 = 
 
 3 2-^ 
 
 ■ =r o 
 
 & CO 
 
 • a: • 
 
 CD O 
 
 S 7. 
 
Stanford University and Thereabouts. 
 
 (now united with Franklin College) in 1846. Studied law and 
 admitted to the bar in 1849, Crossed the plains in 1850, and followed 
 mining for three years. Practiced law in Nevada City from 1853 to 
 1861. Elected to the Legislature in 1855. District Judge, Fourteenth 
 Judicial District, 1861-70. Practiced law in Sacramento from 1870 
 to 1882. Judge of Superior Court of Sacramento County, 1882-86. 
 Justice of the Supreme Court of California since 1886. 
 
 Isaac Sawyer Belcher, San Francisco. Born in Stockbridge, 
 Vermont, February 27, 1825. Graduated from the University of Ver- 
 mont in 1846. Studied law and admitted to the bar in 1849. Came 
 to California in 1853. Tried mining, but soon began the practice 
 of his profession in Marysville. Since 1885 has held the office 
 of Commissioner of the Supreme Court. 
 
 George Edward Gray, San Francisco. Born in Verona, New 
 York, September 12, 1818. Studied civil engineering. Chief Engi- 
 neer of the New York Central Railroad from 1853 to 1865. Consult- 
 ing Engineer of the Central Pacific Railroad, 1865 to 1871, and 
 of the Southern Pacific Railroad, 1871 to 1885. Member of the Insti- 
 tution of Civil Engineers of London, and of the American Society 
 of Civil Engineers. 
 
 Nathan Weston Spaulding, San Francisco. Born in North An- 
 son, Maine, September 24, 1829. Learned the trade of a carpenter 
 and also of a millwright. Came to California in 1851. Engaged in 
 mining, mill construction, and lumbering. In 1859, i'ni Sacramento, 
 concentrated his energies upon the manufacture of saws, taking out 
 many valuable patents. Removed to San Francisco in 1861. Twice 
 Mayor of Oakland. Assistant United States Treasurer at San Fran- 
 cisco, 1881-85. 
 
 William Morris Stewart, Carson City, Nevada. Born in Lyons, 
 New York, August 9, 1827. Entered Yale College in 1846, remaining 
 until 1849. Came to California in 1850. Tried mining for two years. 
 Began the study of law in 1852, and appointed District Attorney the 
 same year. Appointed Attorney-General of California in 1854. Re- 
 moved to Nevada in i860. Member of the Territorial Council, 1861-62. 
 United States Senator from Nevada, 1864-75, and since 1887. 
 
 16 
 

 td 
 o 
 
 OP 
 
 .,iaaKf%. 
 
 f:p,M 
 
Stanford University and Thereabouts, 
 
 Horatio Stebbins, San Francisco. Born in South Wilbraham, 
 Massachusetts, in 1821. Educated at PhilHps Exeter Academy and 
 Harvard College, graduating in 1848. In 1851, graduated from Har- 
 vard Divinity School, and was settled over the First Unitarian Church 
 of Fitchburg, Massachusetts. In 1855, was called to the church in 
 Portland, Maine, from whence (in 1864) he was called to the First 
 Unitarian Church in San Francisco, of which he is still the minister. 
 He was a Regent of the State University from its beginning in 1868 
 to 1894. Degree of D. D. conferred by Bowdoin College in 1869. 
 
 Joseph Donohoe Grant, San Francisco. Born in San Francisco 
 in 1858. Graduated from the University of California in 1880. Spent 
 two years in Europe, and returning entered the house of Murphy, 
 Grant & Co., becoming a partner in 1887. 
 
 Samuel Franklin Leib, San Jose. Born in Ohio, January 18, 
 1848. Graduate of the University of Michi,yan. Enlisted in the United 
 States Army at the age of sixteen, serving under General Lew Wal- 
 lace. Practiced law a short time in Missouri. Came to Sari Jose in 
 1869, and has been engaged in the practice of his profession since 
 that time. 
 
 Leon Sloss, San Francisco. Born in Sacramento, June 26, 1858. 
 Educated in Frankfort, Germany, the public schools of Sacramento, 
 and the University of California. Member of the firm of Louis Sloss 
 & Co. (Alaska Com.mercial Company), since 1877. 
 
 Edv^^ard Robeson Taylor, San Francisco. Born in Springfield, 
 Illinois, September 24, 1838. Came to California in 1862. Graduated 
 from the Toland Medical College, 1865. Admitted to the bar in 1872. 
 Private Secretary to Governor Haight during his term of office. Mem- 
 ber of the third Board of Freeholders for framing Charter for San 
 Francisco. President of Bar Association of San Francisco for four 
 years. Vice-President of Cooper Medical College. Trustee of the 
 San Francisco Law Library and of the Free Public Library. 
 
 Thomas Welton Stanford, Melbourne, Australia. Brother 
 of Leland Stanford. Was a member of the mercantile firm of the 
 Stanford Brothers in Sacramento and San Francisco. Upon the 
 
 18 
 
Stanford University atid Thereabouts. 
 
 dissolution of tlie firm went to Australia, and, with his brother 
 De Witt opened up an extensive business in the importation of 
 kerosene and kerosene lamps. 
 
 Frank Miller, Sacramento. Born in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, Jan- 
 uary 19, 1842. Came to California in 1857. Entered Yale College in 
 1861, but left college in 1862 and enlisted in Second Wisconsin Vol- 
 unteer Infantry. Was in the severe engagements of Second Bull Run, 
 Antietam, and Fredericksburg. Became Sergeant in the General Ser- 
 vice Corps, U. S. A. In 1865, was made Cashier, and later President, 
 of the D. O. Mills National Bank, of Sacramento. 
 
 Charles G. Lathrop, San Francisco. Brother of Mrs. Stanford. 
 Born in Albany, New York, May 11, 1849. Educated in the public 
 schools of Albany. Entered the employ of the Union (afterward 
 Union National) Bank of Albany at the age of fourteen. Came to 
 California in 1877. Entered the passenger department of the South- 
 ern Pacific Company, resigning after two years to go into the employ 
 of Mr. Stanford. At present Business Manager of the Stanford estate. 
 Treasurer of the University, and a Director of the Southern Pacific 
 Company. 
 
 The Secretary of the Board is Mr. Herbert C. Nash, formerly 
 tutor of Leland Stanford, Jr., and Private Secretary to Senator Stan- 
 ford. 
 
 19 
 
The Old Mission Architecture. 
 
THE ESTATE. 
 
 W 
 
 HEN Governor Portola, 
 in 1769, first looked 
 down from the heights 
 of the Sierra Morena, across the 
 long arm of the Bay and over to 
 the line of mountains beyond, 
 his gaze must have taken in the 
 broad plain, the winding San 
 Francisquito. and the tumbled 
 foothills which mark the now fa- 
 miliar University campus. Pre- 
 sumably his march lay across 
 some part of it, and it is certain 
 that he camped on the bank 
 of the San Francisquito. A 
 tangled stretch it was then, 
 covered with giant oaks and 
 thickly growing chemisal ; and 
 so continued long afterward — 
 while it formed a part of the 
 Santa Clara Mission; when ad- 
 venturous Don Antonio Buelna 
 received permission to occupy 
 it (in 1837); when tricky Casa 
 Nueva succeeded in getting it 
 away from Francisco Rodriguez 
 (in 1853). Then came a more 
 commercial period, when squat- 
 ters and land-jumpers parceled 
 it out, and when huge ovens, erected here and there, converted the 
 magnificent oaks into charcoal for the San Francisco market. In 
 1862, the great flood swept away all but two of the sequoias scat- 
 
 21 
 
 The Palo Alto. 
 
Stanford University and Thereabouts. 
 
 tered along the banks of the San Francisquito. In 1863, George 
 Gordon, a wealthy San Francisco business-man, bought the San 
 Francisquito Rancho, of fourteen hundred acres, built the house 
 which, much altered, is now the Stanford residence, and among 
 other improvements laid out Eucalyptus Avenue. He died in 1869, 
 and in the following year the estate was purchased by Mr. Stanford, 
 who gradually added to the original tract until it embraced the pres- 
 ent campus of more than eight thousand acres. 
 
 In addition to the Palo Alto estate, two other estates were made 
 the inalienable possession of the University. The first of these is the 
 Vina Ranch, situated at the junction of Deer Creek with the Sac- 
 ramento River, in Tehama County. It contains fifty-five thousand 
 acres, and was purchased by Mr. Stanford in 1881 for one million 
 dollars. Four thousand acres are in vines, nearly eight thousand 
 acres are cultivated for alfalfa, wheat, etc., and the remainder is 
 plain and foothill grazing land. The second is the Ridley Ranch, 
 in Butte County, comprising twenty-one thousand acres of rich wheat 
 land, valued at perhaps a million and a half dollars. 
 
 
 
 ■■;;:^'-f^ --• "^ii 
 
 ^^^^^K't 
 
 
 22 
 
Surroundings of the University. 
 
President Jordan. 
 
THE UNIVERSITY. 
 
 T is not many years since the only university west of the 
 Hudson recognized by the Four Hundred of academic 
 culture — and then only with some condescension — was 
 the University of Michigan. True, the question is still occa- 
 sionally raised as to whether we have any universities at all, in the 
 proper (Germanic) sense of the term ; and the inferential negative 
 may or may not humble our pride. At any rate, our university circle, 
 such as it is, is no longer restricted to Yale, Harvard, and Ann Arbor. 
 A score and more of State and privately endowed institutions have 
 already pressed closely upon the older universities, in wealth, equip- 
 ment, numbers, and practical results. Cornell in twenty-five years, 
 Johns Hopkins in fifteen, have reached a maturity for which two 
 centuries were needed at Yale and Harvard. Other institutions, 
 though lacking the propelling force of ample means and equipment, 
 fall little behind in the true university spirit, and give, though in 
 limited ways, equally thorough and scholarly training. That genuine 
 universities may be created in a decade or two, the State institutions 
 of Wisconsin, Minnesota, Indiana, Kansas, Nebraska, and California 
 bear ample testimony. As to whether they may be created in a day, 
 some later experiments stand ready to be interrogated. 
 
 Circumstances of somewhat varying character combined to attract 
 unusual attention to the Stanford University. The great wealth of 
 its founder and the unprecedented endowment which common fable 
 ascribed to the institution, the unique plan of buildings and its sub- 
 stantial realization in the fascinating inner quadrangle, the naivete o{ 
 an institution with all the pretensions of a great university so remote 
 from the centers of education and culture, the picturesqueness of an 
 invasion of a commonwealth by an entire college faculty and two- 
 fifths of the student body — a new race of Argonauts, — these are 
 features of the University which have laid hold of the popular imagi- 
 nation, not merely in California, but the country over. On its edu- 
 cational side, the University has naturally made less popular im- 
 
 25 
 
Stanford University and Thereabouts. 
 
 pression. Yet it is in its break with tradition, in the vigor and 
 freshness of its educational methods, that it is at once an object of 
 solicitude to conservative scholarship, and an inspiration to edu- 
 cational radicalism. Naturally, neither believers nor doubters are 
 able to give to the course of affairs at Palo Alto quite the serious 
 weight of established things. On the one hand, its friends regard 
 the circumstances under which its experiments are being tried as 
 altogether exceptional, and wait for the day of trial. On the other, 
 its fearful censors cannot bring themselves to regard with perfect 
 gravity the freaks of so youthful a faculty. At any rate, the Uni- 
 versity has been assured a comparatively free field for development, 
 and its growth and progress cannot fail to be watched with increas- 
 ing interest. 
 
 In March, 1884, Leland Stanford, Jr., the only child of Senator 
 and Mrs. Stanford, died of malarial fever, in Italy. The child of 
 many hopes, heir to a vast estate, he had reached the period when 
 the question of education becomes paramount. Certain phases of 
 educational movement had already interested him keenly, and 
 though still in his sixteenth year, he had begun a collection of 
 antiquities which he hoped might some time grow into a great 
 museum worthy to be set up in San Francisco. To his parents, 
 stricken with grief, hopes and plans crushed, the most fitting 
 memorial to the life so rudely interrupted seemed the promotion of 
 education in some of its many forms. The Stanfords were accus- 
 tomed to deal with large forces and to secure large results. With 
 modesty and simplicity, yet with the confidence born of success- 
 ful achievement and the possession of great wealth, these two con- 
 ceived the idea of doing for the children of California what they had 
 hoped to do for their own son. To fill out the measure of such a 
 generous purpose would require nothing less than a university as 
 complete as their endeavor and fortune could provide; and to the 
 realization of this project all other plans and interests gradually gave 
 way. 
 
 When the plan of the institution, with its proposed endowments, 
 was given to the public, there was enough in the greatness of its 
 conception and possibilities to fire the popular imagination. The 
 personal regard for Mr. Stanford, even where the railroad with which 
 he was associated was cordially hated, served to give the project, in 
 its broad, general scope, an acceptance which it could not hope for 
 
 26 
 
Stanford University and Thereabouts. 
 
 when once it should begin to be wrought into detail. Yet, to the 
 general observer, there had seemed little that was heroic in Mr. Stan- 
 ford's idea. There was, of course, the steady opposition of business 
 friends, who shared his sagacity and material success, but not his 
 vision or faith in the " possibiHties of humanity." To them his found- 
 ing a University at all seemed sheer folly and a waste of wealth. 
 Yet, when Mr. Stanford resolutely disregarded the doublings and 
 misgivings, and sometimes ridicule, of his business associates, and 
 turned to the circle of education and culture, it is to be feared that he 
 found scarcely more sympathy. When his firmness of purpose was 
 realized, there were university men who gave encouragement and 
 counsel; yet, even the most sympathetic could not forbear urging 
 other ways of promoting education than the establishment of a 
 brand-new university in a field already occupied. 
 
 But Mr. Stanford was moved neither by ridicule nor by opposition 
 of Philistines or scholars. He had his own university ideal, and 
 taking what counsel he could get, he tried to set the standard at Palo 
 Alto higher than he had seen it elsewhere. A special Act of the Leg- 
 islature was sought, and in November, 1885, the Act of Endowment, 
 embodying the charter of the institution and the gift of eighty thou- 
 sand acres of land in the rich valleys of California, was made public. 
 
 The place chosen for the new University was the Palo Alto estate, 
 in the Santa Clara Valley, the seat of Mr. Stanford's country resi- 
 dence. The Santa Clara Valley has long been famous for its beauty, 
 fertility, and excellence of climate. Easy of access to the metropolis 
 of the coast, free from the rigors of Eastern winters and the ex- 
 tremes of Eastern summers, sheltered from the fogs and harsh winds 
 of the coast, and from the intense summer heat of the interior valleys, 
 with a rare ocean quality always in the air, the students at Palo Alto 
 have one succession of springtime and autumn. The buildings are 
 placed in the broad plain sloping up from the bay to the foothills 
 of the Sierra Morena. The ground is high enough so that glimpses 
 of the water are seen through the trees, while across the bay are the 
 bold Diablos, rising four thousand feet, and showing at sunset a 
 brilliant succession of colors. The Lick Observatory, crowning Mt. 
 Hamilton, some thirty miles away, glistens white in the sunshine. 
 Just behind are the foothills, covered with a straggling growth of live- 
 oak, and beyond again are the mountains whose heights look down 
 upon the Pacific over long stretches of redwood forest. 
 
 .27 
 
Stayiford University and Thereabouts. 
 
 The buildings themselves are unique in plan and exquisitely har- 
 monious in effect. The Old Mission architecture — the long, low 
 adobe buildings, with the wide colonnades and the open court, native 
 outgrowth of the Moorish and Romanesque, — has been reproduced 
 on imposing scale. Gathered about a court five hundred and twenty- 
 eight by two hundred and forty-six feet, enclosing an area of three 
 and a quarter acres paved with asphalt and diversified with eight 
 immense beds of tropical plants and flowers, are the twelve buildings 
 of the inner quadrangle. They are connected by a continuous open 
 arcade facing the court, and are one story in height. The soft buff 
 sandstone, the great expanse of red tile roof, the wide arcades, the 
 simple but impressive arches, the luxuriance of tropical foliage, the 
 distant glimpses of trees, and foothills, and mountains, give an im- 
 pression of academic seclusion, serenity, and beauty, whose fascina- 
 tion deepens as the months slip by under blue skies and flooding sun- 
 shine. Other buildings already erected are the two dormitories, the 
 Art Museum, the gymnasiums, various engineering structures, and 
 numerous cottages. Encina Hall, the men's dormitory, occupies a 
 ground area of three hundred and twelve by one hundred and fifty 
 feet. It is four stories high, of the same material as the quadrangle, 
 and decorated with end arcades, a central arched porch, and mosaic 
 work. It is provided with electric lights, hot and cold water, steam 
 heat, bathrooms on each floor, and will accommodate over three 
 hundred students. Roble Hall, the women's dormitory, is of con- 
 crete, and about a third the size of Encina. The Museum, also of 
 concrete, occupies a ground area of three hundred and thirteen by 
 one hundred and fifty-six feet. It contains already large collections 
 of Greek, Roman, Egyptian, and American antiquities, and various 
 miscellaneous collections of value. 
 
 The first impression to visitors is usually disappointing. The 
 plan provides for the erection of a second quadrangle entirely sur- 
 rounding the first, with the buildings two stories in height, a con- 
 nected arcade facing outward, and an imposing arch at the main 
 entrance. When completed, and the needs of the University must 
 soon compel its building, nothing will be lacking to the most beautiful 
 college architecture in America. 
 
 Mr. Stanford was slow in realizing the outward features of his 
 plan. It was 1885 when the gift was announced. It was 1891 before 
 a President was chosen or buildings sufficiently advanced to warrant 
 
 28 
 
JO 
 
 c 
 
 Pi 
 
 3 
 
 OS, 
 o 
 
Stanford University and Thereabouts. 
 
 the starting of the University. Again and again it had been supposed 
 that the institution would open its doors; indeed, such had been Mr. 
 Stanford's hope; but delays seemed unavoidable. Meanwhile, of the 
 educational plans and prospects of the new University little could 
 be gathered by the general public, and such details as were scattered 
 about by newspapers and real-estate agencies partook of the highly 
 colored California imagination. For there presently took shape the 
 vision of a University embracing all things possible and impossible, 
 an institution of limitless wealth, lacking nothing which money could 
 buy, exacting from every university and every land its tribute of ripe 
 scholars and teachers, embracing every department of learning and 
 art, from literature and music to the most practical trades of every- 
 day life; and into all this magnificence the children of California 
 ushered at the kindergarten age and carried through to the highest 
 top, without money and without price, save for the self-supporting 
 by-play of gathering grapes and picking roses ! What wonder that the 
 observant, critical East smiled and shrugged its shoulders! What 
 wonder that all the educational tramps and peripatetic philosophers 
 of a continent turned their expectant faces toward Palo Alto as the 
 assured Mecca of their hopes ! What wonder if the older University, 
 conservative, proud of its position and achievements, itself the pro- 
 duct of a unique environment, should view with some apprehension 
 these forerunners of the new institution, and at last the inroad of 
 barbarians which followed the appointment of a President from the 
 Middle West! To Berkeley also came with special emphasis the 
 question which chorused from every quarter of the East : Whence 
 will come its students? Will its dash and vigor, its boom period, 
 cripple the older, conservative institution ? Will it fall with ruthless 
 hand upon the long and painfully wrought system of accrediting 
 schools? Will it let down the bars so carefully placed by the State 
 University? Will it uproot the scholarly traditions which Berkeley 
 has cherished ? Suddenly recalling — as what University might not — 
 the things it ought not to have done and the things it had left undone, 
 it could hardly fail to feel some tremor of the coming disturbance. 
 That under these circumstances the University of California should 
 have exhibited such moderation and courtesy is proof of the high 
 character of letters. That fears, and misgivings, and small jealousies 
 should not find expression in any quarter, was not to be expected. 
 In the main, however, a generous, fraternal welcome was given. 
 
 30 
 
r 
 
 ■ 1 
 
 West Entrance — Looking Out. 
 East Entrance — Looking In. 
 
Stanford University and Thereabouts. 
 
 October i, 1891, the breath of life was breathed into the fashioned 
 clay. Under cloudless skies, in the open court of the inner quad- 
 rangle the new University was dedicated to the service of humanity. 
 Mr. Stanford for himself and his wife, Judge Shafter for the trustees. 
 President Kellogg for the University of California, President Jordan 
 for faculty and students, gave solemn sanction to the pledge and 
 promise of the future; while the students, for the first time assembled, 
 gave utterance to the college yell which marked the visible entrance 
 of a new university into the world. In 1890-91, the University of 
 California had numbered four hundred and fifty students. In 1891, 
 five hundred students greeted the faculty of Stanford, while as many 
 more had already enrolled at Berkeley. 
 
 The University is now in its fifth year. The five hundred students 
 have grown to eleven hundred ; the instructing body has increased 
 from thirty to eighty. Milestones have been set up. The University 
 is a definite, tangible entity, and can be seen somewhat in perspective. 
 All the various student activities which give color to academic life 
 — the daily and weekly papers, the literary societies, the musical 
 organizations, the collegiate and intercollegiate athletics, — have 
 taken vigorous root. Faculty activity, outside the ordinary routine, 
 has manifested itself in a large amount of university extension work, 
 scientific expeditions, and especially in books, monographs, and 
 magazine writing. Meantime the fears of the older university have 
 mainly passed away, as new vigor and rapid growth have come to 
 it out of the general impetus which the higher education has received. 
 
 Yet, as the outlines of the University become more distinct, it will 
 be seen that it does not readily yield to classification. It hardly falls 
 in with tradition ; and for some of its features it must give and take 
 the blows incident to educational warfare. What, then, is the spirit, 
 what the distinctive characteristics of the Stanford University ? To 
 say that the University stands for high scholarship, for that ideal 
 lehrfreiheit of teacher and scholar, does not, of course, specially 
 differentiate it from the modern university type. What characterizes 
 Stanford is, that, finding itself untrammeled by the limitations, the 
 vested rights, the ultra-conservative influences which surround the 
 older colleges and universities, it has had the courage, perhaps 
 temerity, to follow out certain lines of educational progress farther 
 than has ever been done before. 
 
 32 
 
In the Rain. 
 
Stanford University and Thereabouts. 
 
 The Charter of the University was drawn with great breadth and 
 liberality, Lowell's playful definition of a university as " a place 
 where nothing useful is taught" had no countenance in Mr. Stan- 
 ford's plans. In many ways he emphasized the practical nature of the 
 higher education. His idea of a university would have been more 
 nearly stated as " a place where nothing that is not useful is taught." 
 Yet he would found "a university for both sexes, with the colleges, 
 schools, seminaries of learning, mechanical institutes, museums, 
 galleries of art, and all other things necessary and appropriate to a 
 university of high degree." The object and purpose of the Univer- 
 sity should be "to qualify students for personal success and direct 
 usefulness in life," and "to promote the public welfare by exercis- 
 ing an influence in behalf of humanity and civilization, teaching the 
 blessings of liberty regulated by law, and inculcating love and rever- 
 ence for the great principles of government as derived from the 
 inalienable rights of man to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happi- 
 ness." " It should be the aim of the institution," Mr. Stanford said 
 to the Trustees, " to entertain and inculcate broad and general ideas 
 of progress and of the capacity of mankind for advancement in civili- 
 zation." "The object is not alone to give the student a technical 
 education, fitting him for a successful business life, but it is also to 
 instill into his mind an appreciation of the blessings of this Govern- 
 ment, a reverence for its institutions, and a love for God and humanity, 
 to the end that he may go forth and by precept and example spread 
 the great truths, by the light of which his fellow-men will be elevated 
 and taught how to attain happiness in this world and in the life 
 eternal." "We deem it of first importance that the education of 
 both sexes shall be equally full and complete, varied only as nature 
 dictates. The rights of one sex, political or otherwise, are the same 
 as those of the other sex, and this equality of rights ought to be fully 
 rej:ognized." 
 
 Mt is made the duty of the Trustees "to prohibit sectarian instruc- 
 tion, but to have taught in the University the immortality of the soul, 
 the existence of an all-wise and benevolent Creator, and that obedi- 
 ence to His laws is the highest duty of man." "We have also 
 provided that the benefits resulting from cooperation shall be freely 
 taught. It is through cooperation that modern progress has been 
 mostly achieved. Cooperative societies bring forth the best capaci- 
 ties, the best influences of the individual for the benefit of the whole, 
 
 34 
 
From Top of Museum — .Looking toward Foothills. 
 Main Entrance— Looking toward Palo Alto. 
 
Stanford University and Thereabouts. 
 
 while the good influences of the individual aid the many.") The 
 President should be given full power to remove professors and 
 teachers at will, to prescribe their duties, to enforce the course of 
 study and the manner of teaching, and finally, "such other powers 
 as will enable him to control the educational part of the University 
 to such an extent that he may justly be held responsible for the course 
 of study therein, and for the good conduct and capacity of the pro- 
 fessors and teachers." Finally, lest the Trustees should feel ham- 
 pered by what might afterward seem technical instructions, it was 
 added that "the articles of endowment are intended to be in the 
 nature of a constitution for the government and guidance of the 
 Board of Trustees, in a general manner, not in detail." 
 
 Such were the broad, general notions which lay in the founder's 
 mind, and such the bent he would give to the University. By legal 
 sanction, by solemn and repeated declaration, by material support, 
 he sought to give shape to this ideal. Not wishing anything to be 
 done vaingloriously, holding fully that slow growth is better than 
 sudden and unsteady expansion, desiring that no one should be 
 attracted to Palo Alto by other than its solid features, careful that 
 nothing should be wasted, that no man's self-respect should be 
 weakened by largess or patronage, unstinted in support of every 
 project which commended itself to his judgment, only fearful lest 
 buildings, or equipment, or teaching force should be accumulated 
 in advance of the need — for display or for dazzling, — he prepared 
 the way for an educational experiment under almost ideal conditions. 
 For having chosen a President, he left him free, in strict accord with 
 his theory and his Charter, to develop the educational, side as seemed 
 to him best. 
 
 The Charter outlined in general terms. To realize in detail, to 
 place into actual and visible form the dream of the founders, to 
 begin the traditions, to set the pace, to man the machinery, to avoid 
 the seedy wayfarer from a past generation, the intellectual crank, 
 tramp, and peripatetic, was a task which the founders must turn 
 over to other hands. The lot fell upon David Starr Jordan, 
 
 For the work to which he was called President Jordan had 
 especial fitness. He had come upon the collegiate period just 
 when the intellectual world of America was feeling the new Re- 
 naissance. Scholasticism was losing its deadly grip on the uni- 
 versity. The winds of freedom were freshening, if not beginning to 
 
 36 
 
Stanford University and Thereabouts. 
 
 blow.* A country boy, familiar with woods and streams and outdoor 
 life, fate sent him to Cornell, then, of all the universities, most radical 
 in its attack upon the despotism of the old Procrustean curriculum. 
 The result was to confirm his impatience of artificial forms and 
 medieval pettiness. Though a New Yorker by birth, he belonged 
 to the West rather than to the East, and in the West some years 
 of fairly itinerant teaching developed his powers and broadened his 
 knowledge and acquaintance, until in 1884, the year in which Mr. 
 Stanford conceived his University project, he was called to the 
 presidency of the State University of Indiana. Of his work in Indiana, 
 suffice it to say that he found a college of ancient type, untouched 
 by modern thought, neglected by the State, and content to ramble 
 on with its local patronage. In seven years the institution was 
 transformed, its courses modernized, its roots struck deep into the 
 St^te, itself acquiring a national reputation. 
 
 \ In handing over to President Jordan the reins of power, Mr. Stan- 
 ford had suggested fifteen as a limit to the number of the new faculty 
 until something could be known as to the size of the student body. 
 When the University opened with five hundred students, the number 
 of instructors was quickly increased to thirty; but the "fifteen 
 puzzle" had been successfully mvoked to ward off the invading 
 army of applicants, and good and bad alike were obliged to bow to 
 the inevitable fact that no vacancies existed. For the public had 
 hardly become aware of Mr. Stanford's choice before the new Presi- 
 dent had determined the professorships first to be filled and had 
 selected the men to fill them. President Jordan's discernment was 
 keen and his faith in young men strong. He had called into the 
 Indiana faculty the most promising men he could find, fresh from 
 Johns Hopkins or from study abroad. But salaries were low, and he 
 could not hope to retain these men very long; and so every year it 
 had been a part of his duties to go the round of the Eastern universi- 
 ties on a recruiting mission^ The knowledge of men thus gained 
 was invaluable, and he could now take his pick from the younger 
 generation of scholars and teachers. It was a faculty of young men 
 he at once determined to secure; men who had their spurs yet to 
 win; men who could share his own enthusiasm and faith in the 
 possibilities of Stanford and the Pacific Coast; men who could do 
 
 * " Die Luft der Freiheit weht '' — a remark of Ulrich von Hutten frequently quoted 
 by President Jordan ; a fit motto to place over the entrance to the University. 
 
 37 
 
Stanford University and Thereaboiits . 
 
 pioneer work and wait for the fruition; men of the people, to whom 
 the office of teacher was hedged about with no false dignity; men 
 who believed in the new times; sound scholars and inspiring teachers. 
 A faculty thus composed and devoted to its chief could not fail to 
 stamp its impress upon university organization; and in signal ways 
 the methods and policy of Stanford show a divergence from those 
 of even the more modern university types. 
 
 The initial point of departure is in the matter of entrance require- 
 ments. Formerly Latin, Greek, and Mathematics, in certain stated 
 amounts, constituted the prescribed preparation for the college 
 course. These, with more or less chinking in the way of some slight 
 knowledge of history or the natural sciences, are still the require- 
 ment for the traditional classical course. The importunate demands 
 of other subjects for recognition m the college course induced the 
 older type of college to institute "scientific" or " literary " courses 
 of recognized inferior quality, for which distinctly less preparation 
 was required, various lighter subjects being substituted for the Greek 
 or Latin, or both. In many colleges there was a gradual tapering 
 down of entrance requirements from the "classical" to the "scien- 
 tific," through the "philosophical" and "literary"; and the same 
 proportion was maintained in the college courses, these inferior 
 courses being a concession to a backslidden age and a thorn in the 
 flesh. 
 
 Gradually, however, in all modern types, the despised courses 
 attained dignity and value, and gradually entrance and graduation 
 requirements were pushed up to an equality with those of the classical 
 course. The transformation is still far from complete, but the move- 
 ment is unmistakable. In the most modern type, of which we may 
 take Harvard as the conspicuous example, there is but one standard 
 for entrance, and great flexibility is secured by permitting a large 
 amount of substitution. A more radical step has been taken at Stan- 
 ford. It has exalted them of low degree, and perchance put down 
 the mighty from their seat. With all the flexibility of the group 
 system, no substitution has heretofore been permitted for certain 
 Sacred Subjects whose absolute right to be prescribed has scarcely 
 been questioned. Stanford has recognized, what probably no one 
 would gainsay, that the ideal preparation for university studies is not 
 a specified amount of knowledge, but a trained and developed mind. 
 It is but an obvious deduction from what is now generally accepted 
 
 38 
 
C^; 
 
 In the Rain. 
 
Stanford University and Thereabouts. 
 
 in educational thought that thoroughly successful work in any one 
 of the subjects commonly included in the entrance group affords 
 as good a basis for the college course as the same work in any other 
 subject. Accordingly, with the exception of English, no entrance 
 subject is prescribed at Stanford. The amount of preparation is fixed, 
 but the student is offered a choice of twenty-two subjects. These 
 are all reduced to the unit of a high-school year, making twenty-eight 
 credits, of which twelve are necessary for admission. That is, 
 English (counting two credits), and any other subjects which shall 
 aggregate ten credits, fulfill all entrance requirements, whatever 
 may be the line of work which the student proposes to take up in 
 the University — whether Latin, Greek, Modern Languages, History, 
 Law, Chemistry, Drawing and Painting, Engineering, or what not. 
 
 Briefly, then, the University expects to receive students after the 
 equivalent of a thorough high-school course has been completed. 
 It leaves the applicant and the school to determine (among the 
 twenty-two subjects) what shall constitute the preparatory course. 
 But it aims to exact of the student and the school the same quality 
 of work in each subject chosen. Chinking is therefore not recognized. 
 In mathematics and the languages the requirements correspond to 
 those sanctioned by current usage; in the natural sciences and in 
 history the requirements in each have been advanced beyond what 
 most universities have been content to receive. Into the vexed ques- 
 tion of the high-school curriculum, the University, as a body testing 
 the qualifications of candidates for collegiate study^ does not desire 
 to enter. It withdraws academic compulsion as to the particular 
 subjects which shall be taught, and concentrates it upon the quality 
 and thoroughness of the teaching. It is, of course, conceivable 
 that a student might be admitted in full standing without any mathe- 
 matics and without any other language than English; and it is even 
 conceivable that he might graduate without adding to his knowledge 
 in these directions. When such a prodigy appears, the University 
 expects to give him a hearty welcome and to survive his exit. 
 
 The same simplicity of organization obtains regarding the Uni- 
 versity curriculum. To many. Harvard, with its freedom of election, 
 represents the extreme limit of radicalism. Stanford goes farther. 
 The whole Ptolemaic System of cycles and epicycles, whereby ingen- 
 ious college faculties have sought to accommodate the vagaries 
 of individual minds, is abandoned. No subject is prescribed for 
 
 40 
 

 ttoAMiiMi 
 
 hif'isL^^r.. 
 
 
 
 Arcades of the Quadrangle. 
 
Stanford University a?id Thereabouts. 
 
 graduation. Mathematics, Latin, English, Themes — all go by the 
 board. Of course, certain subjects necessarily hang together. Ad- 
 vanced work in any line presupposes the elementary work. Mathe- 
 matics, and much of it, is absolutely indispensable to the student 
 of engineering and physics. German and French are invaluable 
 tools for advanced work in almost all fields. These things the 
 student quickly enough discovers. Nor is the student left without 
 guidance. He must select the work of some one department or 
 professor as a major subject. It may be Latin, or German, or Mathe- 
 matics, or Social Science, or Law, or Physiology, or Entomology, 
 or Drawing, or Engineering. Whatever it is, when once selected, 
 "this professor shall have the authority to require such student to 
 complete this major subject, and also as minor subjects such work in 
 other departments as the professor may regard as necessary or 
 desirable collateral work. Such major and minor subjects, taken 
 together, shall not exceed the equivalent of five recitations per week, 
 or one-third of the student's time for the four years of undergraduate 
 work." "The professor in charge of the major subject is expected 
 to act as adviser to the student in educational matters, and the recom- 
 mendation of such professor is necessary to graduation." 
 
 To the objections which may be raised against this system, it is 
 here sufficient to quote, in reply, two recent utterances: "But will 
 not so much freedom induce narrowness, premature specialization ? 
 The question may be answered by another. Does not everything, 
 after all, depend upon the sort of men of which the faculty is com- 
 posed ? For one, I would much rather trust for guidance in the 
 choice of studies to the trained judgment of individual professors fit 
 for their places than to the most ingenious Procrustean bed ever 
 contrived by an academic council." ^ 
 
 "No two students require exactly the same line of work in order 
 that their time in college may be spent to the best advantage. It is 
 better for the student himself that he should sometimes make mistakes 
 than that he should throughout his course be arbitrarily directed by 
 others. . . . The elective system, too, enables the student to 
 bring himself into contact with the best teachers — a matter vastly 
 more important than that he should select the best studies. . . . 
 All systems are liable to abuse; and as there have been manystu- 
 
 * Prof. Geo. E. Howard, The American University and the American Man. 
 
 42 
 
The Power House. 
 
 Looking down the Arcade. 
 
 East Entrance. 
 West Entrance. 
 
Stanford University and Thereabouts. 
 
 dents who made a farce of the classical course, or who made it a 
 mere excuse for four years spent in boating, or billiards, or social 
 pleasures, so in the same way can a farce be made of the freedom 
 allowed under the elective system." ^ 
 
 Another answer may fairly be demanded: The test of experience. 
 This answer, at Stanford, it is too early to give in statistical form.f 
 Meanwhile some general results are already evident, and certain 
 elective affinities can be traced. A good many prisoners to mathe- 
 matics have been given their liberty; yet mathematics as an elective 
 holds its own fairly well. The popularity of any strong department 
 is assured. There is a distinct gain in the classroom atmosphere 
 where the instructor feels that every student is taking the work 
 because he has voluntarily chosen it. There is naturally some flutter- 
 ing at first, and a good many major subjects are changed after the 
 end of the first year. But the disposition to seek individual guidance 
 from the major professor, and the professor's sense of responsibility 
 as adviser to the student, are becoming more marked. 
 
 This equality of departments and subjects goes farther than the 
 courses usually brought under the conventional bachelor's degree. 
 For example, Law is a department of the University, and stands on 
 exactly the same footing as any other department. A student making 
 Law his major must present the same entrance outfit as students 
 choosing any other major subject, and the same four years is required 
 for graduation, with the same responsibility for major and minor 
 requirements, and the same freedom of election. At the time 
 of graduation the student in Law will therefore have had thirty or 
 forty hours of actual law work, and eighty or ninety hours of history, 
 economics, languages, and the like. A graduate year wholly devoted i 
 
 to Law will then fill out the measure of the present requirements of 
 most law schools, and prepare the candidate for the bar examina- 
 tions. 
 
 It logically follows that only one baccalaureate degree is given; 
 and since the classical conservatives have failed to forestall such 
 action by patent or copyright, the designation "Bachelor of Arts" 
 has been chosen. A student whose major subject is Latin graduates 
 
 * President Jordan, Evolulion of the College Curriculum. 
 
 t Statistics upon this point at the Indiana University are given in the Educational 
 Review for September, 1891. 
 
 44 
 
 I 
 
D 
 
 I. Encina Hall. 
 
 3. Encina Gymnasium. 
 
 2. Roble Gymnasium. 
 4. Roble Hall. 
 
Stanford University and Thereabouts. 
 
 as " Bachelor of Arts in Latin"; one whose major is Chemistry, as 
 " Bachelor of Arts in Chemistry "; and so on. It undoubtedly shocks 
 an antediluvian to come face to face with a " Bachelor of Arts in 
 Steam Engineering"; yet one so labeled has been at large since 1892 
 without serious consequences resulting. The usual criticism of this 
 feature of the University wholly misses the point. The degree is 
 merely the conventional recognition of the completion of the tra- 
 ditional four years of undergraduate work; it has nothing to do with 
 the question as to the relative value and importance of certain tra- 
 ditional courses. Degrees are conferred at the end of each semester, 
 in this respect following the plan of the University of Chicago. 
 
 All of these features presuppose an exceedingly simple university 
 organization. To the President, appointed and removable at will by 
 the Trustees, is intrusted the selection of the Faculty and the determin- 
 ing of the educational policy of the University. The Faculty, as a 
 legislative body, does not exist. Not only has the President an abso- 
 lute veto upon all legislation by the Faculty or Council, but all 
 the ordinary routine business is done by committees named by the 
 President, and responsible primarily to him and not to the Faculty 
 or Council. The Faculty, as such, never meets, and the Council, 
 as a rule, but twice a year, and that for the purpose of conferring 
 degrees. Although there has never been any break in the harmony 
 of administration, this is in part due to the President's wise choice 
 of colleagues; for it is his boast that he never attends a committee 
 meeting, and he never interferes with a committee's action. The 
 "Department," as such, has no official existence, but is merely a 
 convenient grouping for practical purposes. The professorship is 
 the unit of organization; each professor is supreme in his own field, 
 and in all the details of his work is responsible only to the President. 
 
 All of these points of organization are but the outward expression 
 of an inward spirit which dominates the life of the University. It 
 would be presumptuous to assume that Stanford University, in its 
 fifth year, has climbed the summit of academic excellence, or that it 
 lacks nothing of that power of tradition and association, that mellow- 
 ness and blending of all the harmonious colors of a rich and unfold- 
 ing history, which belong to the older universities of the land. For 
 these it must wait. But it may safely be affirmed that here is approxi- 
 mated to an unusual degree that simplicity, that ideal freedom of the 
 scholar and teacher, that wholesome comradery of instructor and 
 
 46 
 
Museum and Vestibule. 
 
Stanford University and Thereabouts. 
 
 student, which is the crown of academic life. No alma tnaterm.s'^xx^s 
 more loyal devotion. The student spirit is hearty, self-reliant, manly 
 and womanly. The dormitories are successfully managed by stu- 
 dents on the cooperative plan; while seven hundred students live 
 outside the halls — in private homes, in chapter houses, in boarding 
 clubs. More than a third of the students are young women, and here, 
 as everywhere in the West, coeducation is a matter of course and 
 excites no antagonisms. 
 
 It was no part of Mr. Stanford's plan to confide to the public his 
 intentions regarding the future of the University. The landed 
 estates were made inalienable, the buildings erected at lavish cost, 
 the equipment provided, the growing expenses met with unstinted 
 hand. To tide over, as he supposed, the settlement of the estate, he 
 provided that the University should receive at his death two and a 
 half million dollars. By the Charter all the powers and duties of the 
 Trustees are to be exercised by the founders during their lives; and 
 in accordance with his intention from the first, Mr. Stanford be- 
 queathed the bulk of his fortune to his wife. 
 
 The sudden death of Mr. Stanford, in the early summer of 1893, 
 and the subsequent financial distress of the country, made necessary 
 a temporary postponement of all plans for enlargement of work and 
 increase of facilities. A year later, when the prospect of immediate 
 settlement was bright, the Government of the United States inter- 
 posed with a claim, growing out of its relations with the Central 
 Pacific Railroad, amounting to almost the entire appraised value ot 
 the estate. At the earnest solicitation of Mrs. Stanford, and with the 
 cooperation of the government, the case has been pushed through 
 the various courts with as little delay as possible. The United States 
 Circuit Court in June, and the Circuit Court of Appeals in October, 
 1895, both pronounced adversely to the Government, and the final 
 decision of the Supreme Court of the United States, unanimously 
 favorable to Mrs. Stanford, was handed down March 2, 1896. 
 
 With the near approach of the settlement of the estate, there is 
 a stir in the air premonitory of a new period of accelerated activity. 
 The strain and suspense have been severe. Yet no essential feature 
 has been sacrificed; no work actually undertaken has been allowed 
 to suffer. With unfaltering purpose and undaunted courage, Mrs. 
 Stanford has taken up the heavy burden imposed upon her, and 
 carried the University through the crisis unharmed. Still, with 
 
 48 
 
o 
 
 "-1 
 
 n 
 
 o 
 
 5 
 
 O 
 
Stanford University and Thereabouts. 
 
 straitened resources and incomplete equipment, the University has 
 had to meet larger and larger classes and the constantly increasing 
 demands of more advanced work. The final dismissal of the Gov- 
 ernment suit does not at once release the estate from the Probate 
 Court. No sudden affluence is likely to beset the University. Some 
 expansion, however, will not be long delayed. New buildings for 
 library, laboratories, and classrooms, books, fellowships, new depart- 
 ments, and additional instructors, are imperatively demanded. When 
 these are added, the University in its general features will be fairly 
 realized. Times of trial there undoubtedly will be. But, with a 
 prospective endowment greater than that which any university now 
 enjoys, with scholarly traditions, high ideals, and fearless liberty in 
 the truth, the Leland Stanford Junior University may face the future 
 with confidence and unfalterino- courage. 
 
 50 
 
SPECIAL MENTION. 
 
 F 
 
 ATHLETICS. 
 
 ROM the opening of the University athletics 
 has held an honorable place. Systematic 
 gymnastic instruction and training is pro- 
 vided by the University, open to all students, and 
 counting toward graduation on the same basis 
 as other university work. The hills and 
 mountains and level highways of the plain 
 claim their eager and constant devotees of 
 trampers and wheelmen. But none of these 
 seem to lessen the interest or activity in those 
 traditional forms of athletic sport peculiarly cher- 
 ished by the collegian. In baseball, football, ten- 
 nis, and general track athletics, a large amount 
 of superfluous student energy, which otherwise 
 might easily turn to mischief, is harmlessly 
 worked off. But athletic sports do more than 
 this. They train the contestant in those quali- 
 ties of endurance, courage, self-control, and 
 strategy, of the highest value in the forma- 
 tion of character and in the serious work 
 of life. Happily free from the taint of pro- 
 fessionalism, and conducted in a manly way, out- 
 door college sports are among the most whole- 
 some in effect and fragrant in memory of all 
 student activities. 
 In baseball the Faculty set the pace, and, with Swain at first base, 
 Richardson catcher, Jordan pitcher, and Sampson, Howard, Marx, 
 Sanford, Wood, Anderson, and Bryant supporting, the Faculty nine 
 for a time did not hesitate to challenge any student aggregation what- 
 ever. Faculty activity, however, seemed content with giving the 
 
 52 
 
 President Jordan. 
 (Snap Shot.) 
 
Stmiford University and Thereabouts. 
 
 proper send-ofF, or, at any rate, but feebly survived the loss of Swain 
 and Sampson. A survival is the annual game between Faculty and 
 Seniors, an important event of Commencement Week. As to the 
 'Varsity Nine, whatever the original impulse, it at once took the lead 
 in intercollegiate baseball, and its supremacy has never been seriously 
 contested. Besides interclass contests, the 'Varsity plays numerous 
 games with smaller colleges and amateur clubs. But the great series 
 is with the University of California. Three games are scheduled 
 each season, and thus far Stanford has not failed to win. 
 
 Tennis has many devotees, and the University courts are con- 
 tinuously in use. A tournament with the State University is a 
 feature of each season, but the winning pace has hardly as yet been 
 reached by Stanford. Track athletics has had many drawbacks, 
 and Berkeley has easily carried off the palm in every intercollegiate 
 contest thus far. A fine track at last is creating the proper enthu- 
 siasm, and the future will doubtless show some different results. 
 
 Athletic interest is by no means confined to the men; nor are the 
 women good spectators merely. Roble Gymnasium has its own force 
 of instructors, and is well equipped with modern apparatus. The 
 Women's Athletic Association promotes especially tennis, wheeling, 
 and basket-ball, and has even considered the question of track ath- 
 letics. For women the game of basket-ball takes the place of foot- 
 ball, giving the same opportunities for the exercise of the qualities 
 of leadership, judgment, and strategy. Games with near-by pre- 
 paratory schools are occasionally held, and it is not impossible that 
 enthusiasm will go so far as to add this to the list of annual inter- 
 collegiate contests. 
 
 But the great athletic interest of the University centers in football. 
 This is the sport calling for the highest exercise of courage, skill, 
 and self-control, and of absorbing interest to the spectator. During 
 the first year of the University Stanford was able, by brilliant indi- 
 vidual playing, to win the great game from the State University. 
 Every year since the tension has become greater. The presence 
 of Walter Camp for three seasons has brought the game to a high 
 degree of excellence; and Berkeley has accepted this challenge by 
 calling each year the best coach which recent Yale teams could furnish. 
 Every year each play approximates more nearly the irresistible force 
 meeting the immovable body; still the irresistibility and the immova- 
 bility depend upon so many contingencies and such perfect general- 
 
 53 
 
Stanford University a7id Thereabouts. 
 
 ship that the game gains rather than loses in excitement. The record 
 stands thus: 
 
 1891 Stanford, 14 Berkeley, 10 
 
 1892 . . • . Stanford, 10 Berkeley, 10 
 
 1893 \ Stanford, 6 . . . Berkeley, 6 
 
 1894 ... Stanford, 6 .... Berkeley, o 
 
 1895 Stanford, 6 Berkeley, 6 
 
 Football practice begins about the middle of September and is 
 continuous for about ten weeks. Every afternoon, at four or half- 
 past, the candidates assemble on the oval for practicing plays and a 
 skirmish between the two elevens. At first, with no coach but the 
 captain, and much routine practice, the attendance of spectators may 
 be small. But this is not allowed to continue. Ringing editorials 
 in the college daily denounce the appalling apathy, and call upon the 
 student body to save the honor of the University. Should a spec- 
 tator unwittingly crack a joke at the expense of some unlucky raw 
 recruit, he is instantly taken to task and made to realize the enormity 
 of his offense. Meantime, the players are adjured, implored, to come 
 out for practice; the spectators to wake up and cheer. Self-appointed 
 critics arid^ciehsors discuss with awful seriousness the languor of the 
 players and their lack of "snap," the criminal negligence of certain 
 unnamed fellows who do not "come out," the indifference of the 
 student body, the incompetence of the team. Along the edge of the 
 crowd one hears mutterings at the folly of the captain and the incom- 
 petence of the manager. Wise heads shake ominously at the pros- 
 pect of making a winning team out of such indifferent material. Will 
 the coach never come? The uninitiated grow sick at heart and are 
 inclined to throw up the sponge. But to the initiated these are only 
 symptoms of the fever-heat that is coming on. A practice game or 
 two with outside teams is had. A word of praise occasionally is 
 permitted to be spoken. The coach arrives. The crowds increase. 
 The band comes out. The " rooters " organize, and cheer in unison 
 to the leader's baton. Confidence slowly rises, though ruthlessly 
 suppressed, lest some breath of it should reach the eleven and fatal 
 over-confidence undo them. The eventful day approaches. The 
 heavens are scanned and many ominous predictions ventured. The 
 Eleven, now almost surely disclosed, steal away to Woodside for a 
 few days' rest and secret practice, and the University settles back and 
 holds its breath. At last Thanksgiving Day arrives. Rain or shine 
 — no matter. A special train of fifteen or more cars rolls up to the 
 
 54 
 
*Ti 
 
 j:^^ 
 
Stanford University and Thereabouts. 
 
 University, is gayly decked with cardinal, and the whole University, 
 abundantly supplied with flags and tomtoms, piles in. A hilarious 
 ride to San Francisco, a general diffusion of red over the city, mixing 
 everywhere (as oil and water mix) with blue and gold, and then an 
 assemblage of many thousands at Central Park. 
 
 Full an hour before the time set for the game, the seats are filled. 
 On the side especially reserved for the universities, one-half is banked 
 with tier on tier of cardinal, the other flames with blue and gold. The 
 tension of waiting is relieved by songs, cheering, and the vigorous 
 martial music of rival university bands. The arrival of some distin- 
 guished person, the Governor of the State perhaps, is the signal for 
 a tremendous volley of cheers. At last, as the hour wears away, 
 anxious faces turn toward the side lines. There is a flutter, the bands 
 begin to play, and in a moment a deafening shout leaps from ten 
 thousand throats, gayly decked banners, flags, canes, and hats wave 
 in the air, and the teams enter and immediately begin to work ofl" 
 their nervousness in a brief preliminary practice. The toss is made, 
 sides chosen, the ball carefully placed for the kick-ofl", and the great 
 annual game of football has begun. From start to finish, the spec- 
 tators are in a contmuous state of suppressed or unsuppressed excite- 
 ment. Almost no one keeps the seat he has paid so much for the 
 privilege of occupying. There comes a breathing-space of ten min- 
 utes between the two halves; but no one thinks of breathing. When 
 a brilliant play is made by Stanford, the cardinal bleachers burst into 
 the wildest animation, with splitting cheers, repeated again and again, 
 while blue and gold is as still as the grave. When Berkeley makes 
 a brilhant play, there is the same wild upheaval of blue and gold, 
 while the cardinal is motionless. When at last the game is over, 
 if the cardinal has won, the enthusiasm beggars description. What 
 becomes of blue and gold would be hard to say, for all the spaces fill 
 instantly with the swaying masses of cardinal, shouting themselves 
 hoarse, and finally pouring out of the various entrances to redden 
 the whole city. If the result is a tie, Stanford passes soberly and 
 decorously out, gazing in a sort of dazed way at the pandemonium 
 which has taken possession of blue and gold, as, with shoutings and 
 wavings unutterable, they bear aloft their non-beaten heroes in tri- 
 umphant procession round and round the oval. 
 
 Such is the effervescence of college life. From the University 
 point of view, all this tremendous excitement has appeared but as 
 
 56 
 
Stanford University and Thereabouts. 
 
 thin haze on some distant mountain. The serenity of the quadrangle 
 has not been disturbed, and no deviation from the ordinary and reg- 
 ular routine could have been detected. Even the football heroes 
 have gone to lectures and recitations, and worked their solid hour in 
 the laboratories as usual, and as before and after the great cataclysm. 
 
 UNIVERSITY EXTRAS. 
 
 In addition to the regular departments of university work, there 
 are certain special activities which form a not unimportant feature 
 of academic life. A series of Sunday morning discourses are given 
 in the chapel by members of the faculty, and by representative cler- 
 gymen of the different denominations. Tuesday evenings are devoted 
 to miscellaneous university lectures, participated in not infrequently 
 by special lecturers from outside. The University Philological Asso- 
 ciation and the University Science Association, though less popular in 
 form, are of large importance both to students and instructors. 
 
 Extra student activity finds exercise in the Christian Associations, 
 the various fraternities and literary societies, and in the collegiate 
 and intercollegiate debates and essay contests, in which the interest 
 increases from year to year. 
 
 57 
 
Stanford University _ and Thereabouts. 
 
 An Intercollegiate Debate, under the auspices of the Associ- 
 ated Students of Stanford and of' the State University, is held in San 
 Francisco in April of each year. A silver medal of the value of one 
 hundred dollars has been offered by the San Francisco Examiner 
 to the university first successful in three contests. With this is now 
 coupled individual cash prizes, amounting to two hundred and fifty 
 dollars, offered by United States Senator Perkins. This debate was 
 won by Stanford in 1893 and 1894, and by the State University in 
 1895. 
 
 The Carnot Medal, for individual excellence in public speaking, 
 offered by the Baron de Coubertin, in honor of the late Sadi-Carnot, is 
 competed for annually by three representatives each of Stanford and 
 the State University. The first contest, in 1895, was won by Mr. Sand- 
 wick, of Stanford. The second contest, in 1896, was won by Mr. 
 Flaherty, of Berkeley. 
 
 In 1895, David Lubin, Esq., of Sacramento, offered two prizes 
 of one hundred and fifty dollars for the best essay on the question 
 of agricultural bounties. The first prize was won by John M. Ross, 
 and the second by Arthur M. Cathcart. 
 
 THE SUMMER SCHOOL. 
 
 The summer vacation extends from the last of May to the first 
 of September. Six or eight weeks of this time are utilized for a 
 summer school at the University, open to students, to teachers, and 
 to others qualified to undertake the work. Courses corresponding 
 to those given in the University receive an equivalent credit toward 
 graduation, but the school is supported by special fees paid directly 
 to the instructors. 
 
 THE HOPKINS LABORATORY. 
 
 An almost indispensable auxiliary to the biological work of a 
 university is a seaside laboratory, where the structure, development, 
 and life history of marine animals and plants can be studied. This 
 need at Stanford was met, in 1892, by Mr. Timothy Hopkins, of Menlo 
 Park. The place selected for the Laboratory was Point Aloha, at 
 Pacific Grove, ninety miles from Palo Alto. The Bay of Monterey is 
 peculiarly favorable for investigations of this kind, and exceptionally 
 
 58 
 
Stanford University and Thereabouts. 
 
 fine collecting grounds are found in the immediate vicinity of the 
 Laboratory. Two two-story buildings have been erected, capable 
 of accommodating eighty students, and containing four general labo- 
 ratories, one lecture-room, and six private rooms for special investi- 
 gators. The rooms are provided with aquaria and running water, 
 and all necessary facilities for biological study. The Laboratory 
 possesses a full supply of collecting apparatus, including two boats. 
 Mr. Hopkins has made large additions to the biological library of the 
 University, which is available for the use of the Laboratory, and has 
 provided for the publication of the results of original investigations. 
 A series, known as " The Hopkins Laboratory Contributions to Biolo- 
 gy," has been begun, and three numbers have already appeared. The 
 sessions of the Laboratory are held during June and July of each year. 
 Pacific Grove is an attractive summer resort, charmingly located 
 on a slope running down to the sea, and in the midst of a heavy 
 growth of native pine. Monterey, the old State capital, and Del 
 Monte, with its unrivaled grounds, are only three miles distant, while 
 the famous seventeen-mile drive passes directly through the town. 
 The coast along the whole of the seventeen-mile drive, and on to 
 Point Lobos, is exceedingly picturesque and impressive. The sur- 
 roundings are ideal for either rest, recreation, or study. 
 
 ^0^m 
 
 ■m 
 
 59 
 
J^lS^i^^SM 
 
 Evolution of the Palo Alto Station. 
 T891 — 1894 — 1896. 
 
THE SURROUNDINGS. 
 
 THE peninsula formed by Ihe ocean and the south arm of the 
 bay is the natural suburban home of San Francisco. Already 
 numerous towns along the coast railroad have been largely 
 peopled by San Francisco capitalists and business-men. Millbrae, 
 Burlingame, San Mateo, Belmont, San Carlos, Redwood, Fair Oaks, 
 and Menlo Park are examples; and, with fast train service, this area 
 will easily extend to San Jose. The railroad keeps close to the -bay; 
 and this may be the reason why all the choicer residence sites have 
 been neglected. Certain it is, that the millionaires, who thickly 
 bestrew the land, have turned away from the foothills, with their 
 magnificent outlooks, and established themselves close to the rail- 
 road, on the level plain. The glorious heights are left for posterity. 
 Meanwhile, the millionaires have done much to make life endurable 
 in the plain. At Menlo Park, where the valley widens out into a 
 beautiful stretch of white and live-oaks, large estates succeed one 
 another for miles between the railroad and the bay, and even extend 
 westward toward the hills. East, on the Middlefield road, is now 
 being erected an imposing brick structure, the future home of a great 
 Catholic Theological Seminary. 
 
 PALO ALTO. 
 
 Half a mile southeast of Menlo, the railroad crosses the San 
 Francisquito, close to the Palo Alto tree, the last of the race of se- 
 quoias in the valley. Here, at the extreme edge of Santa Clara 
 County, begins the town-site of Palo Alto, consisting of nearly a 
 thousand acres, covered for the most part with a fine growth of oaks. 
 Palo Alto, the University town, is the creation of the last four years. 
 Originally, a part of the Hopkins estate, it was platted as a town-site 
 by Mr. Timothy Hopkins in 1888. In 1891, when the University 
 opened, there was the open shed which served as a flag-station, a 
 barn, and a house or two. Mr. Joseph Hutchinson, a San Francisco 
 
 61 
 
Stanford University and Thereabouts. 
 
 lawyer, graduate of the State University, and later non-resident lec- 
 turer in law at Stanford, was the first to build a home in the new 
 Palo Alto. This was in 1891; but growth was slow in starting, and 
 it was not until the summer of 1892 that the building of the town 
 began in earnest. A hotel, bank, stores, livery stables, churches, pri- 
 vate schools, and public schools followed. University people, unable 
 to find living quarters on the campus, went home-hunting in Palo 
 Alto, and now half of the Faculty and a third of the students are 
 located there. Despite hard times and uncertainties, the town has 
 steadily grown. Springing up in response to university needs, and 
 as a suburban residence town, Palo Alto has escaped most of the 
 unpleasant features of the usual California small town. Building lots 
 have kept of fair, even generous, size; dwellings are comfortable, 
 even -attractive; white paint and whitewash are conspicuously absent; 
 streets are broad, and oaks abundant. There are no saloons, and 
 the temperance sentiment is fortified by a clause in every deed, forever 
 prohibiting the manufacture and sale of intoxicating liquors. 
 
 The town was incorporated in 1894. A public-spirited Improve- 
 ment Club looks out for the general tidiness and beautifying of the 
 place. The growth of Palo Alto into an attractive, progressive, 
 modern town is assured. 
 
 MAYFIELD. 
 
 Two miles farther on the county road, though still almost as near 
 the University, is Mayfield, about as large as Palo Alto, and of some 
 commercial importance. Its annex, College Terrace, is already the 
 home of a considerable University population. 
 
 PRIVATE GROUNDS. 
 
 The Stanford private grounds lie against the San Francisquito, 
 which bounds the estate on the northwest. The road winds grace- 
 fully along the east bank of the stream, overhung with the branches 
 of oak, bay, maple, cypress, and pine. A quarter of a mile from the 
 entrance the road divides to include the sloping lawns, the stately 
 trees, and the profusion of flowers and vines which frame in the 
 house — a modest but comfortable mansion, whose verandas catch 
 glimpses of the distant hills through the tracery of luxuriant foliage 
 and over vineyards and arboretum. On past the house, and roses, 
 
 62 
 
The Stanford Residence. 
 
 Vineyard. 
 
 President's House. 
 
Stanford University and Thereabouts. 
 
 violets, orange and lemon groves, gardens, and orchards, succeed one 
 another, until finally the old county road is reached almost at the en- 
 trance to Cedro Cottage. Eastward the ornamental grounds give 
 place to a large vineyard, extending fi-om the county road to the con- 
 servatories. 
 
 THE ARBORETUM. 
 
 The Arboretum includes a tract of about three hundred acres, be- 
 ginning a quarter of a mile from the quadrangle and extending to 
 the county road. On the west it reaches up to the vineyards and con- 
 servatories, and on the east extends well on toward Escondite Cot- 
 tage and Mayfield. It was Mr. Stanford's desire to include in this 
 tract every kind of tree adapted to California, and many thousand 
 specimens, representing countless varieties from all parts of the 
 world, grow here together. Near one corner is the Arizona Garden, 
 with its bristling cacti and other uncompromising specimens of Na- 
 ture's pessimistic moods. Besides the broad University Avenue, 
 which leads without a waver straight to Palo Alto, dozens of leisurely 
 roads go winding through the trees in all directions, and each keeps 
 its own seclusion between its close border of pine or glossy rows of 
 bushes. Nearly all, after their roundabout meanderings, will lead 
 you at last to where you look up the long, green vistas and see 
 standing upon a slight rise of ground at the end a simple and 
 beautiful mausoleum of polished granite, the Stanford tomb. 
 
 ESCONDITE. 
 
 Half a mile east of the quadrangle is the Coutts house, in old 
 French style, rechristened by President Jordan as Escondite Cottige. 
 It was built by one Peter Coutts (as he called himself), who suddenly 
 made his appearance in Mayfield in 1875. A large establishment was 
 set up, including extensive stables for cattle, and a two-story brick 
 building, which served as library and schoolroom for his boys. Reach- 
 ing out to still greater things, he planned a fine mansion atop the 
 nearest foothill, put a tunnel under his hill, dug an artificial lake, and 
 a mile or so farther on built a round brick tower, as the beginning of 
 a supposed system of water-works. Farmer Coutts was lavish in ex- 
 penditure, but not social. Servants were hired on the absolute con- 
 dition that they never received visitors; and who he was or where he 
 
 64 
 
Mausoleum. 
 Cactus Garden. 
 
Stayiford University and Thereabouts. 
 
 came from nobody could find out. Suddenly, in the midst of all his 
 planning, M. Coutts disappeared, and was never more seen. Some 
 said Madame was homesick, and he yielded to her entreaties to see 
 France once more, intending a speedy return. As time went on, this 
 story found less and less favor. It began to be hinted that there had 
 once been a mysterious visit of the French Consul at San Francisco, 
 with a resulting transfer of money, whereby the Consul was much 
 benefited. A threatened repetition of such a visit by a new Consul 
 was the occasion of the sudden exit. However that may be, and 
 this version is firmly lodged in local tradition, the mysterious French- 
 man never came back. Later, the estate was purchased by Mr. 
 Stanford, in England, of a representative of M. Coutts. The stables 
 were used for the running horses, and the chicken ranch is now 
 known as Pine Cottage. The cottage, just as the Frenchman left it, 
 made a home for President Jordan for two and a half years. In the 
 brick library were held the first entrance examinations to Stanford 
 University: it is now the Psychological Laboratory. 
 
 CEDRO. 
 
 Just across the San Francisquito, a mile west of the quadrangle, 
 and at the extreme edge of the Stanford private grounds, Mr. Ariel 
 Lathrop, brother of Mrs. Stanford, once built a tiny summer cottage, 
 and surrounded it with a delightful profusion of palms, oranges, figs, 
 roses, and all the rest of the California foliage. Not even the Stan- 
 ford grounds, with all their magnificence, can rival the cozy, home- 
 like luxuriance of Cedro. It is now the home of Professor Jenkins. 
 
 ADELANTE, LOS TRANCOS. 
 
 Among the houses which fell to the estate in the course of its 
 growth, two — Adelante Villa and Los Trancos Villa — are large, sub- 
 stantial country houses. Adelante, densely set about with cypress 
 and eucalyptus, was first, in 1891, the home of the girls' preparatory 
 school, afterward located in Palo Alto as Castilleja Hall. The drive 
 or walk from the University is picturesque, and the villa is still the 
 home of students. Los Trancos, a mile farther on, although attract- 
 ive in location and surroundings, is too far away and too isolated to 
 get itself taken into the University family, and it stands stark empty, 
 as it has done for years. 
 
 66 
 
Eucalyptus Avenue. 
 
 Entrance to Cedro. 
 Cedro Barn. 
 
Stanford University and Thereabouts. 
 
 THE STOCK FARM. 
 
 Mr. Stanford was a great lover of fine horses, a keen observer 
 of their characteristics, and a firm behever in the great possibilities 
 of development and improvement through training. In 1877, he 
 established the Palo Alto Stock Farm, which, by reason of the original 
 system of training carried out and the remarkable results achieved, 
 has become famous the country over. The "kindergarten" for the 
 weanlings, short distances for the development of speed, and the in- 
 fusion of thoroughbred blood have been the cardinal features of the 
 Palo Alto system. 
 
 The Palo Alto Stock Farm has been the home of many celebrated 
 horses — the great Electioneer, Arion, Sunol, Palo Alto, Advertiser, 
 and many others hardly less famous. 
 
 The Farm has two trotting departments — one at Palo Alto, the 
 other at the Vina Ranch. There is also a thoroughbred department 
 at Palo Alto. In all, the Farm now contains six hundred fine-bred 
 horses. The trotting department, of most interest to visitors, is sit- 
 uated a half-mile west of the quadrangle, a village in itself almost, 
 with its large barns, its long rows of stables, its paddocks, its feed- 
 mill and blacksmith-shop, its cottages for employees, its perfectly 
 kept mile and quarter-mile tracks, — all prettily framed with oaks 
 and eucalyptus. Visitors are always vvelcomed. 
 
 68 
 
^ 
 
 Lagunita. 
 Stock Farm. 
 
gpMiei' 
 
 
 Old Custom House, Monterej'. 
 
 Hopkins Laboratory. 
 
 Chinese Villasre. 
 
TRAMPING GROUNDS. 
 
 FOOTHILLS. 
 
 TWENTY minutes' brisk walk south of the University buildings 
 brings one to the first ridge of the foothills, though, if the way 
 should lie along the favorite path by the Frenchman's Lake, it 
 would take longer. 
 
 Passing behind the quadrangle and out upon the new county road, 
 one presently climbs a padlocked gate into the field and walks up a 
 farm road between two fields topped with pine and cypress of the 
 Frenchman's planting. The stroller is, indeed, upon the domain 
 which was to have formed Farmer Coutts' park. A broad terrace, 
 grain-covered, sweeping easily up to the summit, still marks the 
 avenue of approach to the chateau that was never built. The black, 
 round mouth of a tunnel opens from another side of the same hill — 
 some say for water-works, some say to connect with the cellar and 
 afford a secret means of escape in case of an unexpected visit of the 
 officers of the law. In the little vale lies the tiny lake, all built of 
 solid masonry, and diversified by a minature islet of rocks tossed 
 together in careful confusion. Poplars, to remind him of home, the 
 Frenchman planted in long Imes beside the water-courses, bordering 
 the avenues, and skirting the lake; and in the fall, turning first gold 
 and then stark gray, the}' hold to their traditions with a quaint per- 
 sistency. At the lake's farther end stands a small grove of pepper 
 and cypress, and then you come upon a brick bridge, which crosses 
 nothing in particular and leads nowhere, but is not, therefore, less in 
 keeping with its surroundings. 
 
 Beyond these storied spots, where men and maids love to loiter 
 of a Sabbath afternoon, spreads the field again, and then, on all 
 sides, begin the sharp, short slopes of the hills. They run up 
 austerely, only to round off in urbane softness or to spread out again 
 in expanses of gentlest undulations. They jostle each other boldly, 
 yet hold concealed among them secret basins of verdure, secluded 
 dells, ensconced in chemisal and the glossy bushes of the Christmas- 
 
 71 
 
Stanford University and Thereabouts. 
 
 berry, hidden nooks among the trees, and winding canons, small and 
 secure. Winter mantles them with the living emerald of the wild-oats, 
 and in summer they lie beneath the sun in velvety shadings of yellow, 
 and brown, and gray, bestrewn with the dark green of scattered oaks. 
 One may climb them straight up or follow the dilatory wanderings 
 of horse-paths, which compass them over and around and about. In 
 either case the ridge which sweeps round the University in a fine, 
 protective semicircle is soon reached. The broad top of the high- 
 est mound was once dreamed of as the University's site; and stand- 
 ing here, under a magnificent expanse of sky, one looks down upon 
 the University buildings, the arboretum, the town, the bay; the ex- 
 tending plain, with its farms and villages, its groves and dotting 
 trees; the mountains rimming the horizon almost to San Francisco 
 and Oakland. To the left the eye rests upon rolling country extend- 
 ing thirty miles northward; to the right, across the tops of lower foot- 
 hills, loom the dark sides of Black Mountain; while behind the ob- 
 server the higher ranges rise gradually until their crown of sequoias 
 fringes the tender horizon line against the western sky. 
 
 72 
 
Stanford University and Thereabouts. 
 
 MOUNTAINS. 
 
 Behind the foothills, with their constant invitation, rise the heights 
 of the Santa Cruz Mountains, even more alluring to the tired book- 
 learner. The hills can be reached every day in the year; the moun- 
 tains require a four-hour tramp, and are not to be conquered seven 
 days in the week. 
 
 In outing gear, with notebook, or sketchbook, or botany box, or 
 insect net, with gun or with book, alone, or by twos, or by dozens, 
 both students and instructors tramp off on a Saturday, or a Sunday, 
 or a holiday, for this exhilarating climb. Across Black Mountain, up 
 the Goat Ranch road, by Portola, by Searsville, by Woodside, — it 
 matters not, all roads lead to the summit. As one gradually ascends, 
 the plain lowers and spreads out, the outline of the distant Coast 
 Range becomes more distinct, the foothills sink into little mounds 
 and ridges, the lagoons and creeks leading into the bay show all 
 their devious windings in the silvery threads that streak the plain. 
 Redwood, Menlo, Palo Alto, Mayfield, Mountain View, and San 
 Jose unite in one long line, which extends from horizon to horizon. 
 All the while the road, bordered by oak, manzanita, madrono, buck- 
 eye, sequoia, and chemisal, is winding along the lower slope of the 
 ascent, or following a mountain stream back and forth, or climbing 
 surely around the rocky cliffs and above the precipitous gulches of the 
 upper steeps, and at last you are there, on the very tiptop of the 
 backbone of the peninsula. Now shake yourself free of trees and 
 rocks, and make for some bleak point in the great bare fields of the 
 summits. To the east you look down over the precipitous wooded 
 shoulders of the mountains upon the familiar wide plain far below, 
 the bay, the stately line of the Coast Range beyond, and if the day 
 be especially clear, the Sierra Nevadas in a faint, dim distance. To 
 the west, a world of tumbled-up country, bare and dark, and away 
 off, like a silver band across the horizon, the Pacific, Perhaps, as 
 you gaze, you can distinguish the snowy gleam of breakers on the 
 shore, or perhaps you see the birth of the fog, and spellbound 
 watch it as it rises and drifts, covering the farther landscape, softly 
 filling the nearer clefts, and finally, rolling up to your feet, spreads 
 out to the edge of the sky in one vast, level waste of gigantic billows. 
 
 Sportsmen, fishermen, and campers know this ridge at many a 
 picturesque point along its upper slopes. At Murphy's, at Saratoga, 
 
 73 
 
Stanford University and Thereabouts. 
 
 at Skylands, along Boulder Creek, the redwoods add their stately 
 charm to the mountains; while northwest of Monterey Bay lies the 
 Great Basin, a sweep of nearly a hundred thousand acres of untouched 
 sequoias, no wagon-road piercing its quiet seclusion, and but a sin- 
 gle bridle-path leading from Murphy's to Santa Cruz. 
 
 AWHEEL. 
 
 The whole region is the paradise of wheelmen. Through twelve 
 months in the year, the level roads, the long stretches of plain, the 
 mountains, the near-by towns, the ocean, the mere exhilaration of air 
 and motion allure. There is San Jose, eighteen miies away, Saratoga 
 as many, Los Gatos twenty-two, with innumerable shorter spins in 
 every direction. There is the ride to Mountain View, to Redwood, to 
 Belmont, the fine roads and glimpses of millionaire estates at Menlo. 
 There is the ride up the San Francisquito, past Adelante Villa and 
 Los Trancos, and home perhaps, by the Arastradero, the Page Mill 
 road, and Mayfield; or, if one is out for a longer trip, passing the 
 Arastradero, and pushing on to Searsville, past Portola, the Sears- 
 ville reservoir (alack for its muddy associations!), a little rise of ground, 
 
 74 
 
kz. 
 
 Along the Seventeen-Mile Drive. 
 
Stanford University and Thereabouts. 
 
 a descent to Woodside, hallowed of football memory, and then a 
 magnificent coast into Redwood, down a winding road, with pic- 
 turesque views and colors, across the cafion and over the bay; or, if 
 more venturesome yet, a turn to the left at Searsville, a steady push 
 to the summit, a quick descent on the other side, and then La Honda, 
 Pescadero, San Gregorio, Spanishtown, Half Moon Bay, and home 
 again by San Mateo. All this is fair vacation sport, and not uncom- 
 mon. And these vacation rides lengthen out in every direction: to 
 San Francisco; to Alum Rock; to Niles Cafion; to Alameda, Oak- 
 land, Berkeley even; to Mt. Hamilton; to Madrone Springs; to Santa 
 Cruz, over the Saratoga road, or through Los Gatos; to Monterey and 
 Pacific Grove; and in the long summer vacations even to Yosemite 
 and Southern California. 
 
 
 76 
 
THE SEASONS. 
 
 EPTEMBER begins the University year. Aside from 
 the deep green of vineyards, orchards, lawns, the 
 arboretum, and scattered oaks, all else — hills, fields, 
 roadsides, — is tawny gray, dinged by the dust, 
 which has been settling down through the long 
 rainless summer. Yet, the main highways are well 
 kept, and he who stays upon them will not be too 
 unpleasantly reminded of the dusty world. Occa- 
 sionally, the ocean breeze may be held back by a 
 hot norther from the Sacramento, and the thermom- 
 eter go soaring up into the nineties; but this is rare. 
 The days are of that delightful quality which makes shade preferable 
 to sun. A gentle breeze insinuates itself into afternoons, and crisp, 
 bracing evenings force porch loiterers quickly indoors. The nights are 
 cold and damp, and an occasional fog creeps up from the bay to defy 
 the sun for an hour or two in the morning. The days follow each other 
 with scarcely a perceptible change. Gradually the last tremors of the 
 trade-winds cease. More clouds appear and lend a radiant brilliancy 
 to the sunsets. Deep purple tints set off the distant mountains, now 
 grown indistinct in the hazy atmosphere. September shades off into 
 October, and then the full glory of the year is revealed. Everything 
 which made September delightful is a little intensified; the days are 
 calmer, the sun more tempered; the colors deepen in sky and field; 
 the air invigorates. Everything invites to outdoors. November 
 comes on, still without change, except that the sharpness of night 
 and morning is gradually extended. At last — it may be just before 
 Thanksgiving, or just after, — there comes a break. Showers there 
 have been earlier — in September perhaps; but they scarcely inter- 
 rupted the monotonous process of the days. Suddenly, however, — 
 yet after days of preparation, as one afterward recalls, — the heavens 
 open. Newcomers who had begun to scoff at the possibility of rain 
 in California, are abundantly cured of their skepticism. The water 
 
 77 
 
Stanford University arid Thereabouts. 
 
 comes down in sheets, in torrents. A sudden strengtii leaps into the 
 south wind. Woe to fences, trees, houses — everything not well found- 
 ed. If it is to be a wet season, approved of farmers, December and 
 January will continue pretty consistently on their way, the rain pouring 
 down without effort, and on slightest provocation, until the oozy soil 
 can take no more, and every shower brings a flood. Bicycles will 
 not be discarded, but will sneak out on half-days of pleasant weather, 
 as if dismayed at their own temerity. If it is to be a dry winter, 
 accompanied by growlings and mutterings of farmers, the infrequent 
 rains will be set off" by long stretches of quiet, sunshiny days, begun 
 by frosty mornings, with thin films of ice clinging to all the tiny 
 pools. But whichever kind may occur — and seasons are never twice 
 alike in California — with the advent of February or March, at the 
 latest, the winter is broken. January sees the brown of hills and 
 plain give way to green. The perfume of new grass and all growing 
 things, of fresh-ploughed fields and gardens, fills the air. By March 
 the country is carpeted with a vivid luxuriance of wild flowers. 
 Mariposa lilies, cool and delicate, frail baby-blue-eyes, yellow violets, 
 cream- cups in buff, paint-brush in sprays of vermilion, lupine in dark 
 blue, nightshade in the most tender purple, Bride-of-Lammermoor 
 in starry white, the lusty, flaming poppy, and hundreds more, awake 
 in untold profusion, and laugh in the brightest sunshine in the world. 
 In April the roses, which in countless exquisite varieties fill the 
 yards, climb the trees, and embower the houses, burst into a riot 
 of bloom. To keep them properly cut is no light task, and the 
 housewife finds the daily renewing of vases in every room a material 
 if delightful addition to her cares. March and April, with the whole 
 State one vast flower-garden and blossoming orchards of cherry, 
 plum, prune, peach, apricot, and orange perfuming the air, assume 
 the aspect of a general floral carnival. Passers in the street, passen- 
 gers on the cars, idlers and workers alike, go laden with fragrant 
 burdens, and everybody makes lavish present to everybody else 
 of the common but cherished wealth of the spring. 
 
 In May, the rains wear themselves out. The trade-winds, loosened 
 in March, may rise by afternoons into irritating intensity. A Sacra- 
 mento norther may possibly get through; but usually the University 
 closes without a break in the perfect equipoise of early summer, 
 
 A few students stay the summer through. The only oppressive 
 days come during the once, twice, or even thrice-repeated visit of 
 
 78 
 
Stanford University and Thereabouts. 
 
 the unwelcome north wind. The cool nights touch fifty-six degrees 
 to fifty-eight degrees; the midday heat rests at seventy-five degrees 
 to seventy-eight degrees. The afternoon brings the ocean breeze, 
 with never-failing refreshment. The cool, deserted arcades invite 
 to rest and sanity. No storm mars any plan of tennis, or wheeling, 
 or study, or tramping. It is "the glorious climate of California." 
 
 79 
 
HAIL, STANFORD, HAIL! 
 
 Words by A. W. S. Music by M. R. S., 1893. 
 
 ^ ^=£S-i^^^ ^^^^^^ 
 
 w^ 
 
 :*: 
 
 1. Where the rolling foot hills rise Up t' wards mountains high- er, Whereat eve the 
 
 ^^^ 
 
 - r-nr 
 
 ^ 
 
 ?=2: 
 
 :^ 
 
 r^^ff^ i 
 
 tt 
 
 ^ 
 
 =*=-■=* 
 
 s 
 
 Coast Kange lies, 
 
 3^ 
 
 3E= 
 
 In the sun- set 
 
 fire, 
 
 Flushing deep and pa ling; 
 
 lii: 
 
 i 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^=g 
 
 -^ 
 
 Here we raise our voi - ces hail -ing. Thee our Al - ma Ma 
 
 ter. 
 
 m 
 
 q^ 
 
 f^- 
 
 mm 
 
 ^ 
 
 '^- 
 
 Re^tretixx* 
 
 m 
 
 s 
 
 From the foot hills to the bay. It shall ring. As we sing, It shall ring and 
 
 ^ ^ $-f-ihf-' -f- ^ .-f- -^ -fr 7 ^ -^ -r^ J fr-r- 
 
 f-^ M^ f^ 
 
 g 
 
 • — ^ 
 
 r 
 
 jLl4t-«_J. 
 
 d 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^^ 9 f ■ ^ 
 
 Hail, Stan-ford hail! 
 
 W 
 
 float al- way; 
 
 Hail, Stan -ford hail! 
 
 ^ 
 
 r^ I I 
 
 i 
 
 2. Tender vistas ever new 
 
 Thro' the arches meet the eyes, 
 Where the red roofs rim the blue 
 
 Of the sun-steeped skies. 
 Flecked with cloudlets sailing. 
 Here we raise our voices hailing 
 Thee our Alma Mater. 
 —Chorus. 
 
 When the moonlight-bathed arcade 
 
 Stands in evening calms. 
 When the light wind half afraid 
 
 Whispers in the palms, 
 Far off swelling, failing. 
 Student voices glad are hailing 
 Thee our Alma Mater. 
 
 —Chorus. 
 
Surpassing; elegance^ rapid fligfht, and minimum cost* 
 
 These are what you secure by a transcontinental trip 
 on the Sunset Limited* 
 
 The reputation of the Sunset Limited for elegfance, and 
 for §;ood faith to its patrons^ has been so securely made it 
 is no longfer in the field of controversy* 
 
 There is no other transcontinental train that for one 
 moment can by any one be held equal to it* It has all the 
 essentials and luxuries of a modern first-class hotel* 
 
 COMPOSITE CAR^ with ample smoking:, conversation 
 and observation room, writing;-desk and library, lavatoryt 
 barber's chair, and bath* 
 
 COMPARTMENT CAR, with matchless parlor, ob- 
 servation room and social salon for the ladies, with writing: 
 desk and library, and seven regfal compartments, separate or 
 en suite, at pleasure of the occupants ; and drawing: rooms 
 and sections in cars for such, and trained servants, includ- 
 ing; a waitingf-maid for the ladies ; and a strictly first-class 
 dining-car, with faultless cuisine* 
 
 In this car your meals are served, when you will and 
 what you will, from an ample menu, and at such cost as 
 may meet your approval in the order* 
 
 The service is a la carte, with prices that are below 
 figures that might well be called reasonable* 
 
 It costs no more to go East on the Sunset Limited than 
 it does to do so by trains of inferior excellence. 
 
 Leaves San Francisco Tuesdays and Saturdays, at I0;00 
 p*m* ; Los Angeles, Wednesdays and Sundays, at 3:00 p*m* 
 
WILLIAM DOXEY 
 
 DEALS IN 
 
 BOOKS 
 
 BOOKS : Attention is entirely devoted to books, 
 
 AND NOT TO STATIONERY AND OTHER USUAL ACCOMPAN- 
 IMENTS OF THE BOOK BUSINESS, AND AS A CONSEQUENCE 
 Wm. DoXEY has THE LARGEST AND MOST INTELLIGENTLY 
 SELECTED STOCK ON THE COAST. 
 
 CATALOGUES of new importations of standard 
 
 BOOKS ARE issued AT FREQUENT INTERVALS, AND FUR- 
 NISHED ON APPLICATION. 
 
 NEW BOOKS RECEIVED AS PUBLISHED. 
 
 GUIDE BOOKS: Baedeker's, Murray's and others: 
 AS also many works on Japan. 
 
 WILLIAM DOXEY 
 
 publisher and importer of books 
 
 San Francisco: . 631 Market Street, under Palace Hotel 
 London: ... 26 Henrietta Street, Covent Garden, W. 
 
V»,90. 
 
 
Manzanita Hall . . 
 
 Preparatory School 
 for Boys 
 
 PALO ALTO, CALIFORNIA 
 
 Dormitor}'. 
 
 ' I ^HE aim of the school is to fit boys for college, and especially to 
 ■*■ give thorough preparation for entrance into Stanford Universit3^ 
 The school claims superiority in the following points : It is 
 located in the shadow of a great university, on the outskirts of a 
 village from which saloons are excluded by a strong public sentiment, 
 by a town ordinance, and by a prohibitory clause in the title-deeds. 
 Its students are brought early under the influence of university 
 methods, and are thoroughly prepared for univer>ity work. Its in- 
 structors are all professional teachers and specialists in their depart- 
 ments. They are required to keep in touch with the university, and 
 to understand the details of the requirements for admission. Its 
 graduates are admitted to the university without examination, on 
 recommendation of the principal. Only working students are ad- 
 mitted to the school. For further information, address Frank 
 Cramer, Principal. 
 
PALACE HOTEL 
 
 SAN FRANCISCO 
 
 iiliSllSillMe?: 
 
 HEADQUARTERS FOR THE . 
 FACULTY AND STUDENTS . 
 OF STANFORD UNIVERSITY 
 
WHY NOT INRURF'"^"^ 
 
 Tb^ . . . 
 
 BEST, LARGEST, AND 
 STRONGEST COMPANY 
 
 A\utU2iI Life 
 losurapce Co* 
 
 RICHARD A. McGURDY 
 
 President 
 
 of N^w YorK 
 
 ASSETS - $221,000,000 
 SURPLUS - $27,000,000 
 
 Its Contracts are the 
 
 Most Liberal Offered 
 
 All old adage says, 
 "NOTHING IS CHEAP 
 
 THAT IS VALUELESS " 
 
 So with Life Insurance: 
 
 A premium paid to an insecure com- 
 pany purchases disappointment and bitter 
 regret. 
 
 When applying for Life Insurance seek 
 to know if the company will survive you. 
 
 Mutual Life Building, San Francisco 
 
 Q_ 
 
 A. B. FORBES & SON 
 
 nutual Life Building 
 
 5an Francisco, Cal. 
 
 /// Comparison, THE MUTUAL LIFE 
 
 i In 53 Years 
 
 has paid its Policy- 
 holders a Stupendous 
 Sunty exceeding 
 
 $41 1,000,000 
 
 b 
 
Castilleja Hall 
 
 Preparatory School 
 for Girls ^ ^ ^ ^ 
 
 PALO ALTO 
 
 CALIFORNIA 
 
 ffij^gj-s- 
 
 THIS SCHOOL was founded for the purpose 
 
 « of fitting girls for Stanford University, 
 
 to whicli its graduates are admitted 
 
 without examination, on recommendation 
 
 of the principals. 
 
 There are two departments — primary 
 and college preparatory. Girls of all 
 ages are admitted. 
 
 Miss E. B, PEARSON 
 Miss L. H, FLETCHER 
 
 Principals 
 
 Sixth Year begins 
 
 September 7, J 896 
 
> 
 
 o 
 
 3 
 
 w 
 
Hotel Del Monte, Monterey, Cal. ^ ^ 
 
 jT 
 
 HE rank of this peerless watering-place, 
 as a combination of the most elegant, 
 most refined, most homelike, having the most 
 genial climate always, and the most charming 
 semi-tropic surroundings, and yet most moderate 
 in rates, is and must always remain unchallenged. 
 ^ ^ ^ Open for the entertainment of guests 
 twelve months every year. 
 
&^A