54 ALL ABOARD FOR SUNRISK LANDS.

In a few moments the pilgrims for the Sunrise were moving rapidly
down the bay.

“There are some sailing craft ahead, boys. They look slow, don’t
they, boys, old-fashioned and behimd the times, beside this craft. This
is the nineteenth century,’ observed Uncle Nat.

Just then the City of Tokio blew her whistle and she seemed to
shriek, “ Yes, ’'m the nimeteenth century and I'll beat and cross the
Pacific, see if I don’t.” She said this in one long breath, gasped and
said no more.

“There is the Golden Gate!” exclaimed Uncle Nat. “What a
pretty sight!”

Between two ridges of land stretched the waters of the Golden
Gate, and outside was the broad and shining sea.

“This is the entrance to the bay of San Francisco, boys; and there
is the Pacific we must cross. Can’t you say the lines you repeated
at the hotel the other night?”

Ralph was proud of his accurate memory, and he recited the lines
he had recently seen among Bret Harte’s poems:

“Serene, indifferent of Fate
Thou sittest at the Western Gate.

Upon thy heights so lately won,
Still’ slant the banners of the sun,

Thou seest the white seas strike their tents,
O warder of two continents?

And scornful of the peace that flies
Thy angry winds and sullen skies,

Thou drawest all things small or great,
To thee, beside the Western Gate.”

The boys were so much interested in their new surroundings that