Now if we travel a hundred miles in a straight line, we come to the eternal Summer of Sacramento.

One never sees Summer-clothing or mosquitoes in San Francisco--but they can be found in Sacramento.

Not always and unvaryingly, but about one hundred and forty-three months out of twelve years, perhaps.

Flowers bloom there, always, the reader can easily believe--people suffer and sweat, and swear, morning, noon and night, and wear out their stanchest energies fanning themselves.

It gets hot there, but if you go down to Fort Yuma you will find it hotter.