Yet there is no dreary stretch or caravansary effect, and to-day every seat is filled, and a dozen tourists waiting at the door.
Every recreation of city or country is found in this little world: thirty billiard-tables, pool, bowling, tennis, polo, bathing (where bucking barrel-horses and toboggan slides, fat men who produce tidal waves, and tiny boys who do the heroic as sliders and divers, make fun for the spectators), hunting, fishing, yachting, rowing, riding to hounds, rabbit hunts, pigeon shoot, shooting-galleries, driving, coaching, cards, theatre, ballroom, lectures, minstrels, exhibitions of the Mammoth and Minute from Yosemite with the stereopticon, to Pacific sea-mosses, the ostrich farm, the museum or maze for a morning hour, dressing or undressing for evening display, watching the collection of human beings who throng everywhere with a critical or humorous eye, finding as much variety as on Broadway or Tremont Street; dancing-classes for children; a chaperon and a master of ceremonies for grown folks; a walk or drive twelve miles long on a smooth beach at low tide, not forgetting the "dark room" for kodak and camera f--amateurs.
You see many athletic, fine-looking men, who ride daringly and ride to kill.

Once a week the centre of the office is filled with game: rabbits, quail, snipe, ducks, etc., everything here--but an undertaker.
And old Ocean eternally booming (the only permanent boom I know of in Southern California).
And that is what you see and hear at the Hotel del Coronado.

The summer climate is better than the winter--never too warm for comfort, the mercury never moving for weeks.

I expected constant sunshine, a succession of June's fairest days, which would have been monotonous, to say nothing of the effect upon crops and orchards.

The rainy season is necessary and a blessing to the land-owners, hard as it is for "lungers" and the nervous invalids who only feel well on fine days and complain unreasonably.
Ten inches is the average needed just here.