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- 55 - ones. I have succeeded in forgetting most of them but the memory of one is ineradicable -- a thick slab of Bermuda onion as the foundation for a wigwam of orange sections and the whole smothered in mayonaise. She charged $35 a month for room and board. Father said he could send me $50, which left something like 50 cents a day for everything else I might need. My mother, a capable dressmaker, would take care of my clothes. I expected to be homesick but I realized that I could not afford to take the train and go home from time to time on weekends. With a heavy heart and anticipating a bleak, hard time, I set out for San Jose. I was to be thoroughly surprised. The first thing that struck me was the beauty of the Santa Clara valley. I would not have believed any place on earth could compare in loveliness with Sonoma County but I soon learned otherwise. San Jose at that time was in the center of a fruit basket, a cornucopia of apricots, prunes, pears and of course marvellous grapes. Vineyards covered the slopes of