La Honda Far in the bosom of the mountains On the La Honda winding deep-- A dreamland where the redwoods sleep On the slopes of azure blue and green; The rambling brook with boulders strewn And shaded 'neath the hazel bough, Sighing soft eternal vow To dells and pleasant fastness; With banks with elders soft and white And tiger lilies, speckled brown, In grace and silence bending down To hear the water's babbling. Thin winding paths along the wood By creeping vine and shady hill Where stings the crested blue-jay shrill, The robins, chirping gleefully. And oft at noon in idleness I lie beneath thy shady trees, And list the sighing of the breeze, The splashing of the waterfall. And hear the lowing of the kine While browsing on some far-off slope, The wood dove cooing while I mope And sink to gentle slumbering.

July 8, 1888. By E. T. C. (Probably Asa W. Collins)

From the San Mateo Times & Gazette, Saturday, July 21, 1888

Back to where I was!