B 3 135 
 
LIBRARY 
 
 OF Tin- 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 Deceived 
 ^Accessions No. 
 
 JAN 1895 
 
 CA/5S 
 
 


 
A MINGLED YARN 
 
 SKETCHES ON VARIOUS SUBJECTS 
 
 BY 
 
 HENRY EDWARDS 
 
 COMEDIAN 
 
 The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together." 
 
 . ALL s WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 UKIVBRSITT 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 G. P. PUTNAM S SONS 
 
 27 & 29 WEST 23D STREET 
 I88 3 
 
COPYRIGHT BY 
 
 HENRY EDWARDS 
 
 1883 
 
 Press of 
 
 G. P. Putnam s Sons 
 New York 
 

 DEDICATION. 
 
 TO THE MEMBERS OF THE 
 
 BOHEMIAN CLUB OF SAN FRANCISCO, 
 
 TO WHOSE WARM-HEARTED FELLOWSHIP AND UNSTINTED KINDNESS 
 I AM INDEBTED FOR MUCH OF THE HAPPINESS OF MY LIFE, 
 AND WHOSE INFLUENCE IS APPARENT UPON ALL THAT 
 THIS VOLUME CONTAINS, I DEDICATE ITS PAGES 
 WITH GRATEFUL MEMORIES, AND FEEL 
 INGS OF AFFECTIONATE REGARD. 
 
PREFATORY NOTE. 
 
 I DESIRE to disarm all hostile criticism upon the 
 contents of this book, by stating that it is solely in 
 obedience to the wishes of friends that these simple 
 sketches have been collected and placed before the 
 public eye. No one knows better than I do their 
 numerous blemishes, but I prefer to present them 
 as they are, rather than to attempt their elabora 
 tion, conscious at least of the fact that their publi 
 cation, if it do little good, can on the other hand be 
 productive of no harm to any but the author. 
 
 HY. EDWARDS. 
 
 WALLACK S THEATRE, 
 NEW YORK, Dec., 1882. 
 
 0* 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 THREE WEEKS IN MAZATLAN .... I 
 
 IRON, AND ITS RELATION TO CIVILIZATION . . 65 
 
 BUBBLES FROM BOHEMIA 
 
 SHAKESPEARE ...... 89 
 
 EDWIN ADAMS .... I O 6 
 
 JAMES HAMILTON (FUNERAL ADDRESS) . . .112 
 
 JOSEPH MAGUIRE " " . 
 
 MID-SUMMER "HIGH JINKS " . . I2 i 
 
 11 TRIFLES LIGHT AS AIR " 
 
 TWO BALLOON VOYAGES ... 131 
 
 THE CHURCH AND THE STAGE .... 139 
 
 AGASSIZ T/f o 
 
 . 140 
 
 MAJOR HARRY LARKYNS (FUNERAL ADDRESS) . . 151 
 WILLIAM BARRY 
 
THB $3 
 
 UFIVBB.SIT7 
 
 THREE WEEKS IN MAZATLAN. 
 
 ON the 27th of December, 1874, accompanied by 
 my wife, I took passage in the steamship " Mon 
 tana," bound for Panama, and after rather a boister 
 ous passage of four days, during which time we 
 experienced as much misery as is usually accorded 
 to sea-going people about the Californian coast, we 
 ran into the harbor of San Diego, the future rival 
 of San Francisco, as its inhabitants are pleased to 
 call it ; a rising town, doubtless, but destined to re 
 main for many years in its rising condition, before 
 it can in any way compete with the mistress of the 
 Golden Gate. The San Diegans point with pride 
 to their safe and beautiful harbor, but they forget 
 to mention that that harbor is always destitute of 
 ships, one small coaling barque belonging to the 
 P. S. N. Co., being the only vessel in sight upon 
 our first visit, and on our return, even this .one 
 was absent, and the stars and stripes which floated 
 from the custom-house, met no answering signal 
 from the waters of the bay. The hopes of this place 
 are at present wholly in the future, and they seem 
 to depend upon the Great Southern Railway across 
 the continent, of which it will be the western 
 
2 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 terminus, and the completion of which must cer 
 tainly one day make San Diego a place of consider 
 able importance. Steaming down the bay, and 
 past the substantial light-house erected on Point 
 Loma, we looked our last for a time upon green 
 grass and fertile fields, and for three days coasted 
 along the rough, rocky, and forbidding shores of 
 the Californian Peninsula, passing almost within 
 sight of the reef on which the ill-fated " Sacra 
 mento " had so recently met her unfortunate dis 
 aster; and crossing the entrance to Magdalena Bay, 
 the site of Drake de Kay s late colonization venture, 
 which settlement is now given over entirely to a 
 number of Ecuadorians, engaged in gathering or- 
 chilla, we rounded the curiously perforated rocks off 
 Cape St. Lucas and came to anchor there on the 
 eighth morning after our departure from San Fran 
 cisco. To all who have travelled to California by 
 the way of the Isthmus, this halting-place is famil 
 iar, and needs no remark here accept a passing 
 notice of the recent death of the founder of the 
 settlement, Capt. Richie (" old Tom Richie," as he 
 was familiarly called), which took place about three 
 months before our arrival, and which, to those coast 
 ing vessels accustomed to make the Cape a place of 
 call, could be regarded as no other than a national 
 calamity. Richie was certainly a singular and un 
 common man, full of the adventurous spirit which 
 distinguished the early pioneers of this coast, owning 
 a great and generous heart, which was always ready 
 
THREE WEEKS IN MAZATLAN. 3 
 
 to give of his abundance to those who needed it, 
 and possessed of that peculiar faculty of mind which 
 sees justice from an abstract point of view, and 
 which does right from a consciousness of internal 
 principle, rather than from the dictates of conven 
 tionality or the urgings of society s laws. When a 
 lad of only seventeen years of age, he ran away 
 from an English whaling ship, fixed on Cape St. 
 Lucas as his home, lived there for upward of fifty 
 years, married two Mexican wives (some people say 
 seven), reared a large family of children, and, for the 
 latter years of his life, was looked upon as an abso 
 lute king in his district his word upon all matters 
 in dispute being regarded as law, the opposing 
 parties in his court being always satisfied with his 
 verdict, and never appealing to a higher one for a 
 new trial, as is too often the case in more advanced 
 and polished communities. He seldom left his 
 home, except now and then for a journey up the 
 gulf as far as Lm Paz or Loretto, and on one occa 
 sion to San Francisco, the noise and bustle of which 
 city proved too much for the old recluse, and he was 
 glad once more to seek the seclusion of his peaceful 
 home. Every sailor has a kind word for " old Tom 
 Richie," and the tone of respectful sorrow which now 
 accompanies the utterance of his name, is a sure 
 indication that upon that barren spot at Cape St. 
 Lucas, a kindly heart and active brain have found 
 their last resting-place ; and that from above his 
 tomb in the place he loved so well, will spring up in 
 
4 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 many a heart, gentle but abiding memories of the 
 past, and grateful recollections of an old friend, long 
 regarded, but now passed from earth away. 
 
 Leaving Cape St. Lucas, we steamed up the gulf 
 until abreast of San Jose", a small settlement in a 
 valley of plenty surrounded by desolation, hearing 
 much of the pearl fisheries of La Paz and the 
 oranges of Loretto (both which quaint cities lay to 
 the north of us, but which, alas ! were destined to be 
 unseen by our eyes), and then headed our course 
 straight across the gulf to Mazatlan. The pearl 
 fishery at La Paz is a very productive source of 
 wealth, last year alone yielding, as I am told, up 
 ward of $130,000 worth of pearls, some of which 
 were of extreme beauty and quaintness of shape, one 
 specimen obtained within the previous two months 
 having been sold in Mazatlan for the large sum of 
 $5,000. The diving is carried on wholly by Mexi 
 cans, who are adroit fishermen, and appear to relish 
 their somewhat dangerous life. The shells from 
 which the pearls are obtained are found in water 
 from three to four fathoms deep, and it is somewhat 
 singular that on the eastern side of the gulf no 
 specimens of the pearl oyster have yet been dis 
 covered, the fishery being confined solely to the 
 waters near La Paz. The pearls are said to be all 
 profit to the company who are engaged in the 
 speculation, as the shells themselves, which are ex 
 ported to Europe (where they are largely employed 
 for inlaying and lacquer work), pay the total ex- 
 
THREE WEEKS IN MAZATLAN. 5 
 
 penses of the labor employed. The town of Lo- 
 retto, to which I alluded, is highly celebrated for the 
 quality of its oranges, many of which find their way 
 across the gulf to Guaymas and Mazatlan, where they 
 command far higher prices than the fruit grown in 
 those places. Gradually losing sight of the land, 
 the good ship " Montana," pitching and rolling at a 
 fearful rate under the influence of a strong nor - 
 wester, made rapid progress across the Californian 
 Gulf, and in twenty-two hours after leaving Cape 
 St. Lucas the booming of our gun awoke the echoes 
 among the hills and valleys which surround the 
 most important Pacific seaport of the Mexican Re 
 public, and as we drop our anchor between the 
 rocky islands of Gervo and El Christon Grande, 
 our journey s end is reached, and we are safely at 
 rest upon the bright blue sea which washes the 
 walls of the strange city of Mazatlan. 
 
 It was a picture full of that strange and dreamy 
 beauty found only in tropical climes, which gives to 
 the spirit a sense of almost oppressive sadness ; 
 filling the heart with stifled longings for a better 
 understanding of its untold loveliness, and suggest 
 ing to the soul a vision of that brighter and better 
 land " beyond the skies," which is the sustaining 
 hope of our earthly pilgrimage. Groups of low, flat- 
 roofed houses, curiously painted in white, blue, pink, 
 and yellow, surmounted by the giant stems of 
 cocoa-nut trees waving their finely cut branches in 
 the gentle breeze, and lighted up in front by the rich 
 
O A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 transparency of the tropic sea, formed the fore 
 ground of the picture ; while beyond it stretched a 
 series of broken hills, crowned to their very tops with 
 dense and curious vegetation a purple haze en 
 shrouding their summits, and blending them into the 
 obscurity of the distance. Through rifts in the mist 
 which overhung the landscape like a veil, could be dis 
 cerned the rocky forests crowning range after range 
 of the great mountain chain which forms the back 
 bone of America, and which reaches its grandest 
 forms in the Rocky Mountains of the North and the 
 Andes of the Southern Continent. Strange-looking 
 trees of giant cactus covered the precipitous sides 
 of the island and rocky points more immediately 
 surrounding us, while flights of turkey-buzzards 
 hovering like restless ghosts of the departed over 
 the land, and groups of grand gray pelicans and 
 graceful white cranes about the water, lent a living 
 interest to the scene. Around and above all was 
 shed the golden glory of a tropical sunrise, the 
 most delicate purple tints shading off into richest 
 crimson, and encircled by a greenish tinge of almost 
 ethereal brightness, the slanting beams of the ap 
 proaching luminary striking upon the dull green 
 foliage, and illuminating it with transcendent splen 
 dor. 
 
 The city itself is built upon an isthmus, which at 
 its narrowest point is not more than two hundred 
 yards in width, the old town occupying the northern, 
 and the new town (or that chiefly inhabited by the 
 
THREE WEEKS IN MAZA TLAN. 7 
 
 better class of residents) the southern portion. 
 Southward, the peninsula rises into a high, rocky 
 hill, on which are the remains of a once powerful 
 fortress, which from its position offers a most im 
 portant point of defence, but which, with that care 
 lessness peculiar to the Mexican race, has been 
 suffered slowly to crumble into decay. On the top 
 of this eminence is the flag-staff station, and beyond 
 it, still farther to the south, rises the rocky moun 
 tainous island called El Christen Grande, the high 
 est peak of which I had subsequently the pleasure 
 of ascending, and from which a grand and com 
 manding view of the surrounding country is to be 
 obtained. At the southwestern extremity of El Chris- 
 ton is a singular cave, the walls of which are strongly 
 impregnated with sulphur, and lead off into passa 
 ges in the heart of the mountain as yet unknown 
 and unexplored. The peak of this interesting island 
 seems formed by nature for a light-house station, 
 and in the hands of any other people would cer 
 tainly have been put to such a use, but it is a singu 
 lar fact, and it may be here noted as one of great 
 significance, and remarkably illustrative of the Mexi 
 can nation, that while they have during the past ten 
 years collected upwards of two millions of dollars 
 from various nationalities for light-house dues, and 
 almost as much more for pilotage, there is not a 
 single light-house on the whole Mexican coast, while 
 the duties of a Mexican pilot appear to consist in 
 going out in his boat to within three or four hundred 
 
8 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 yards of any vessel requiring his assistance, waving 
 a white flag, and then quickly turning round and 
 pulling back to the shore. 
 
 Having bargained with some good-looking boat 
 men to take us from our anchorage to the shore, a 
 distance of about two miles, for the sum of two dol 
 lars, we effected our landing upon a very dilapidated 
 wharf, and proceeded to the custom-house for the 
 purpose of having our baggage inspected, but not 
 having the appearance of dangerous or suspicious 
 people, we were allowed to pass with very little 
 trouble, and at once looked about for some dray or 
 express wagon to convey our boxes to the hotel at 
 which we were to take up our residence. But vehi 
 cles of any sort there were none ; and I looked on 
 with some interest, and not a little uneasiness, at 
 seeing our various packages shouldered by a whole 
 army of cargadores, one of whom lifted a heavy 
 leather trunk, weighing not less than one hundred 
 and fifty pounds, as easily as he would a packet of 
 tea, and marched off, leading the way, apparently 
 not in the least oppressed by his burden. These 
 cargadores are among the institutions of the place, 
 and the loads they carry would appear almost be 
 yond possibility. I subsequently saw a man carry 
 ing seven boxes of claret from a lighter up to the 
 custom-house, a distance of over one hundred and 
 fifty yards, and upon another occasion met one of 
 them with a piano on his shoulders ; but I had be 
 come so accustomed to them by that time, that I 
 
THREE WEEKS IN MAZATLAN. 9 
 
 was by no means astonished at this feat. These 
 wonderful burdens are supported on a pad which* 
 rests on the shoulders, the strap of which is passed 
 round the forehead, which is thus made to bear part 
 of the strain. 
 
 Some short time ago an attempt was made by an 
 enterprising American to introduce express wagons 
 and drays into Mazatlan, but their use was forbidden 
 by the local government, on the plea that it would 
 ruin the business of the cargadores ; and so our specu 
 lative friend had to reship his vehicles to New 
 York, lamenting the want of the progressive spirit, 
 which is so eminently characteristic of the Mexican 
 people. The only carts now employed are rude, 
 heavy, lumbering contrivances, each drawn by a single 
 mule or donkey, poor, patient, enduring creatures, 
 without whom the Mexican could not exist, and 
 who have certainly solved the problem of how to do 
 the largest amount of work on the smallest amount 
 of food. Over rough roads, almost untenable by 
 the foot of man, these powerful and intelligent 
 beasts carry their heavy burdens, plodding carefully 
 and always safely, over the most dangerous places, 
 rewarded only by the croppings of the roadside, or 
 occasionally by a handful of dried corn-stalks at the 
 end of the day s journey. Yet I would not have it 
 understood that the Mexican is cruel to his beast ; 
 on the contrary, he drives him by words rather than 
 by the whip, and a good understanding always 
 seems to exist between the animal and his master. 
 
10 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 I one day witnessed an incident illustrative of this 
 fact. A little mule drawing a big cart laden with 
 cases of wine, in turning the corner of a street, had 
 come into too close quarters with a post placed 
 there to protect the sidewalk, and had brought the 
 vehicle to a sudden stand. The driver, instead of 
 lashing the animal and cursing him, as is too often 
 the case among other people, in the most uncon 
 cerned manner took out a cigarette, lighted it, leaned 
 against the nearest door-post and began to smoke, 
 in the intervals of the puffs, chaffing his donkey, 
 and laughing good-humoredly at his attempts to free 
 himself from his position. I should translate what 
 he said as something like: " You are a pretty fellow 
 a nice mess you are in don t ask me to help you 
 get out of it as you best can, I m in no hurry," 
 etc., etc. laughing all the time as the donkey pulled 
 and pulled almost enough to break the post down. 
 The poor little animal seemed to understand all 
 that was said to him, and cocked his ears with a most 
 knowing expression, then in a moment lowering them 
 suddenly he seemed to comprehend the difficulty, 
 and forcing his cart backward, he gave a sudden 
 turn, and feeling himself free of the post, marched 
 triumphantly on with his load, his master slowly 
 following, lighting another cigarette, and applauding 
 the performance. I applauded too, and walking 
 over to the driver, extended my hand to him, say 
 ing: " Bravo, old fellow, that s better than beating 
 him." I forgot, however, that he did not under- 
 
THREE WEEKS IN MAZATLAN. II 
 
 stand English, so I tried Spanish ; however, he un 
 derstood this still less, and I concluded to try no 
 more, so he offered me a cigarette, gave the usual 
 salute of " Adios, seftor," and went lazily and mer 
 rily up the street after his brave little mule. 
 
 The carts of which I have spoken have very high 
 wheels and short shafts, and the animals drawing 
 them all wear a saddle fastened to the shaft, in the 
 rudest manner, by a piece of cord, while the head of 
 the animal is perfectly free from every kind of trap 
 pings, no bridle or traces being used. The driver 
 walks by the side of his mule, and directs his course 
 by words, very rarely using his whip, and then 
 only cracking it loudly, with a great show of tem 
 per, within half a yard of the animal s ear. It is 
 no uncommon sight to meet a number of these ani 
 mals coming into town, each laden with a pile of 
 corn-stalks, all cut closely off at the roots, and 
 sometimes as much as fourteen feet in height, 
 packed carefully on each side of the pack-saddle, 
 and tied together at the top, thus perfectly envel 
 oping the little animals, and allowing only their head 
 and ears to be seen. As they travel along laden in 
 this way, they look, when viewed from behind, like 
 a moving army of gigantic corn sheaves, and pre 
 sent a singular and somewhat ludicrous appearance. 
 The mules and donkeys also do all the water-carry 
 ing for the city, this invaluable element being 
 almost invariably obtained from the numerous fresh 
 water lagoons on the outside of the city, and conse- 
 
12 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 quently not being over-excellent in quality. A 
 large quantity of water is in some houses gathered 
 in the rainy season and stored in reservoirs for the 
 purpose, but the bulk of the population have to de 
 pend for their supply upon the water-carriers and 
 their mules, who parade the streets throughout the 
 day. Each mule carries four earthen jars, contain 
 ing about three gallons each, the value of the con 
 tents of each jar being about equal to fifteen cents. 
 Much of this water is strongly impregnated with 
 decaying vegetable matter, and is scarcely fit for 
 use without being filtered. 
 
 The hotel in which we took up our quarters was 
 called the Hotel Nacional, and was, luckily for us, 
 kept by a person who understood English, and who 
 had passed some time in San Francisco. It was a 
 large straggling adobe building, with about twenty 
 rooms, built in the form of a square, the centre of 
 which was entirely open, and planted with curious 
 trees and shrubs. Into this square sometimes came 
 a drove of mules to feed, while their owners did the 
 same beneath the open piazza, surrounded by trellis- 
 work, which formed our dining-room. The sleeping 
 apartments of this establishment were about sixteen 
 to eighteen feet square and almost as many feet 
 high, with bricked floors and whitewashed walls, in 
 the corners of which huge spiders and cockroaches 
 made their homes by day, .sallying forth at night 
 to prey upon whatever they could find. The 
 spiders, however, though formidable-looking ani- 
 
THREE WEEKS IN MAZATLAN. 13 
 
 mals, are quite harmless, and the cockroaches, 
 though perfectly swarming in point of numbers, are 
 only terrible to persons possessing weaker nerves 
 than ourselves. In fact, I rather liked them, as 1 
 was enabled to pursue my favorite study of ento 
 mology without its usual accompaniment of a long 
 walk, and I am happy to announce that I discovered 
 at least one new species of cockroach, even in our 
 sleeping chamber. It was to this room that we re 
 tired to rest after our first day s long and fatiguing 
 walk about the city rest, did I say ? Ah ! how 
 little did it deserve that word ! To the lover of a 
 comfortable bed, in which the soft down gently 
 closes round him, lulling him to repose, and com 
 pelling him, when the morning breaks, to turn again 
 for a 
 
 " Little more sleep, a little more slumber," 
 
 I would say, emphatically: " Go not to Mazat- 
 lan." There are no beds, the places which delude 
 one to rest being simply iron cots, on which is 
 stretched a piece of canvas, covered by a single 
 sheet. This is what one lies on. Then comes an 
 other sheet, and a sort of coverlid more like an old 
 window-curtain than any thing else. This is what 
 lies on us, and this is all ; no mattress, no feathers, 
 no blanket, no any thing like comfort ; the pillows 
 as round and hard as if they had been turned out of 
 a log of wood, into which it is quite impossible for 
 even the hardest and thickest of heads to make the 
 
14 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 least impression. Then, in addition to this solemn 
 mockery of a comfortable bed that haven of rest 
 which every tired mortal groans for, and enjoys so 
 much thousands of fleas take up their residence in 
 each cot, and nip and bite like furies the whole live 
 long night, utterly eluding all your vigilance, and 
 laughing to scorn your attempts to catch them. 
 They are not, as in civilized countries, good, fat, 
 healthy-looking fleas, such as take hold of you hon 
 estly, and give you a chance to catch them with the 
 assistance of a moistened ringer, but tiny, vicious, 
 active little fiends, that give you a remarkably sharp 
 bite, and then jump off to attack some other part of 
 your body. It has been said that an ordinary flea 
 will leap over two hundred times its own length. I 
 am sure these proportions must be much increased 
 in the case of the fleas of Mazatlan, as they are 
 smaller and leap farther than any fleas I ever saw. 
 During the intervals in which these tormentors 
 were at rest, swarms of mosquitoes varied the 
 amusement, and drew our attention in another di 
 rection. These mosquitoes attack without the slight 
 est noise, settling down upon the face as lightly as 
 a snow-flake, when bang goes their sharp proboscis 
 deeply into your flesh, and down comes your hand 
 with a terrible whack, only to miss the enemy and 
 make you think that for the future you would pre 
 fer being bitten. Downright fatigue at last, how 
 ever, overcame even the fleas and mosquitoes, 
 and we slept, only to awake in the morning 
 
THREE WEEKS IN MAZATLAN. 15 
 
 with aching limbs, not in the least refreshed by our 
 repose. This first night in Mazatlan was by no 
 means an exceptional one. We were doomed to ex 
 perience many such, varied occasionally by a con 
 tinual crowing of cocks, which commenced soon after 
 sunset and continued until long after sunrise. 
 Sometimes the dogs began a barking chorus, and 
 kept it up at intervals throughout the night, and 
 worse than all, occasionally a man with a hurdy- 
 gurdy would be hired by some of the cargadores 
 and others of the denizens of the wharf to grind out 
 his miserable tunes the whole night through for 
 their special gratification ; and sometimes a full 
 band would come to serenade some fair senorita 
 on her festal day, and rattle away till the dawn of 
 morning. 
 
 On these occasions it is usual to invite the musi 
 cians into the house, and keep the merrymaking 
 there, but if the revellers have made too free before 
 their approach, as is often the case, this custom is 
 dispensed with, and, in revenge, they proceed to 
 greater libations, and bang and toot away until the 
 blush of day sends them to their homes. These 
 constant interruptions, added to the hard and mis 
 erable beds, render Mazatlan not a comfortable 
 place in which to sleep, and justify the warning 
 I have given to all who love their beds to stay 
 away from that city. And yet, when we grumbled 
 about our broken rest, we were always coolly told : 
 " Oh, you will get used to it ; we all sleep like that 
 
1 6 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 in Mazatlan ; it is too hot to sleep on beds or mat 
 tresses, and, as to the fleas, they are no worse than 
 in other hot countries ; they are always most 
 troublesome to new-comers," and other such consola 
 tion as this. Now, as to the heat, we never felt it 
 during the warmest day as uncomfortably hot, and 
 at night could always have borne a pair of blankets. 
 The thermometer stands, with little variation, in the 
 winter season at about 75, but in the rainy season, 
 which sets in about the end of April and continues 
 until October, it ranges from 110 to 125 in the 
 shade. 
 
 During the winter months I can imagine no cli 
 mate more beautiful and health-giving than that of 
 Mazatlan. Balmy, clear, and fresh as the air always 
 is, it is sometimes rendered even more agreeable by 
 a gentle breeze from the sea, and, as the city is sur 
 rounded on three sides by the ocean, it matters not 
 from which quarter the wind may blow, as a pure 
 and fresh air is sure to find its way to all quarters. 
 There are no violent winds, no fogs, no dust, and it 
 is surely not Utopian to look forward to a not dis 
 tant day when this place may become a sanitarium 
 for the enfeebled and worn constitutions of our more 
 northern clime, to which those broken down by 
 over-work may retire for rest and change, and for a 
 time imitate the dwellers in that genial climate in 
 the pure enjoyment of their " dolce far niente" 
 
 The streets of Mazatlan are crooked, narrow, and 
 badly paved, but they, as well as the houses, both 
 
THREE WEEKS IN MAZATLAN. I/ 
 
 inside and outside, are kept scrupulously clean. A 
 city ordinance obliges every householder once a 
 year to paint, whitewash, or otherwise clean and 
 adorn the outside of his house, and as this is usually 
 done at the conclusion of the rainy season, we had 
 the advantage of seeing the city in its new dress, 
 the process of decoration having recently been com 
 pleted. It is also compulsory upon every house 
 holder to keep the sidewalk and half the street op 
 posite to his house perfectly and cleanly swept every 
 morning, the carts for carrying away the dust and 
 refuse calling each day for its removal. It is for 
 bidden to throw dirty water about the streets under 
 a penalty of five dollars; these enactments being in 
 the chief streets of the city rigidly enforced, but in 
 the suburbs, where sanitary regulations are not car 
 ried into effect, dirt accumulates in large quantities, 
 and in some cases poisons the air to a considerable 
 distance. The turkey-buzzards, so appreciated as 
 scavengers in all tropical countries, here also per 
 form their valuable offices, and being protected by 
 the Government (their destruction being forbidden 
 under a very heavy fine), they exist in enormous 
 numbers, their gaunt and gloomy-looking forms, sad 
 and melancholy as Poe s raven, being met with 
 upon every side, both in the city and in its immedi 
 ate neighborhood. 
 
 The houses are nearly all built after the same 
 model, very few having more than the ground-floor, 
 except in two of the principal streets and the plaza, 
 
1 8 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 where in some cases a second story has been added. 
 The windows are generally without glass, and in 
 variably barred with rods of iron, giving them a 
 most prison-like aspect. The houses are always 
 built to form two or more sides of a hollow square, 
 the enclosed court-yard being given up to the cul 
 tivation of a garden, the Mexicans being extremely 
 fond of flowers. Even when the absence of room 
 or the means of the owner will not admit of a gar 
 den, a few flowers in earthen pots (roses, carnations, 
 and balsams being the favorites) are the adjuncts 
 to a Mexican home. It is not, however, uriusual 
 to find, even in the heart of the city well-culti 
 vated gardens, in which potatoes, lettuce, cabbage, 
 radishes, and other vegetables of a colder clime, 
 grow side by side with chilis, bananas, oranges, 
 papayas, and other natives of the more tropical 
 regions, the glorious cocoa trees always waving 
 their graceful arms above the whole, like guardian 
 spirits of the vegetable world. 
 
 The dwellings of the poorer class are mostly 
 built of adobe and thatched with corrugated tiles, 
 like those still remaining in many of the older set 
 tlements of California of which some picturesque 
 specimens still exist in Santa Clara and San Jose 
 while others are formed of boughs wattled together, 
 and mud-plastered between, or of the branches of 
 the cocoa-nut palm, interlaced on all sides so as to 
 form a thatch, through which, however, in the rainy 
 season the water pours without let or hindrance. 
 
THREE WEEKS IN MAZATLAN. 19 
 
 The cooking is always done on braziers or small 
 ovens fed with charcoal, so that there are no chim 
 neys, and consequently no smoke. Fires to warm the 
 dwellings are quite unnecessary, even in the coldest 
 seasons, and thus one of the terrors of our boasted 
 civilization, which has of late years caused such 
 fearful devastation throughout the land, has here no 
 power, a conflagration being a thing unknown. 
 Most of the houses, too, would fail to feed a fire ; 
 nothing but the rafters which support the roof, and 
 the doors and shutters of the windows being built 
 of any material which would burn. 
 
 The longest street in the city is the Calle del 
 Recreo, which rs about a mile in extent, and passes 
 through one side of the principal plaza. The west 
 ern end runs into the grand esplanade fronting 
 on the ocean, called Los Altos, the favorite ride 
 and promenade of the beauty and fashion of 
 Mazatlan. Here are built some of the finest 
 houses in the city, the dwellings of the wealthy mer 
 chants and others of the upper ten, furnished with 
 exquisite taste, in which a generous and profuse 
 hospitality is ex-tended in the most refined and 
 courteous manner. The city has three plazas, the 
 principal one being oblong in form, about one hun 
 dred yards long, by fifty wide. The northern side 
 is devoted to a hotel, and the rooms of the Mazat 
 lan Club, an institution largely supported by the 
 foreign residents, and which, if the favorite game of 
 monte be not too rashly indulged in, will afford the 
 
20 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 visitor who is fortunate enough to gain access to its 
 somewhat exclusive recesses, many pleasurable 
 hours. One corner of the plaza is occupied by the 
 offices of the telegraph company, a line having re 
 cently been carried across the continent, connecting 
 the city of Mexico with the Pacific seaboard. 
 Owing, however, to the frequent revolutions it is 
 sometimes impossible to get a message through, as 
 each party, as it comes into power, thinks it its 
 bounden duty to destroy the wires and poles. An 
 instance is on record, however, in the times of 
 peace, of a message occupying six weeks to reach 
 Durango, a city about one hundred and thirty 
 leagues from Mazatlan, so that, with such manage 
 ment, the telegraph service of Mexico would appear 
 to be of little public benefit. 
 
 The plaza is, or rather was, surrounded by orange 
 trees, for many of them have been allowed to go to 
 decay, and no thought of replanting them appears 
 to have existed. Those that remain are vigorous, 
 healthy trees ; at the time of our visit two or three 
 being laden with fruit in every degree of ripeness, 
 while some were just bursting into flower. Some 
 curiously carved stone benches, looking like the re 
 mains of the Aztecs, are built around the square, 
 but the seats have been broken from many of them, 
 leaving only the backs standing, and, with the true 
 spirit of Mexican carelessness they will be suffered 
 gradually to crumble away, when a little mortar and 
 a few hours work would restore them to their origi- 
 
THREE WEEKS IN MAZATLAN. 21 
 
 nal condition. Near the plaza, is an imposing-look 
 ing building, one of the first which strikes the eye 
 of the visitor as he approaches the city from the 
 bay, which was intended for an opera-house, but, 
 owing to the death of its projector, on his voyage 
 from San Francisco, it has never been completed, 
 and is now entirely given over to the pigeons and 
 turkey-buzzards, who make of it a roosting-place. 
 The internal arrangements are made with consider 
 able taste, the auditorium consisting of a large par- 
 quette, capable of seating about four hundred per 
 sons, the upper portion of the house being divided 
 into four tiers of boxes, each enclosed with elegant 
 designs in iron-work, now in many cases displaced 
 from their position and thrown to the ground to 
 rust and decay. The roof has been pierced for the 
 reception of a chandelier, and there is everywhere 
 evidence of the best intentions as to the adornment 
 of the building. The workmen had so far advanced 
 with their labor (when the sudden death of the pro 
 prietor brought the work to a conclusion), that a few 
 hundred dollars would suffice to finish it, yet no one 
 has been found with enough public spirit to take 
 the matter in hand, and this, one of the most im 
 posing structures in the city, has therefore written 
 upon it the sentence of decay. 
 
 The people of Mazatlan are not, however, en 
 tirely without amusements. There is a small 
 theatre, or rather a hall with a stage at the end of 
 it, where dramatic and other performances are occa- 
 
 IVV.ITIB.SIT7] 
 
22 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 sionally given, which are always well patronized and 
 enjoyed by the audience. The Mazatlan stage boasts 
 of a few excellent local artists, the style of acting 
 most in vogue being that of the modern conversa 
 tional school. The theatre is decorated with excel 
 lent portraits of some of the more eminent drama 
 tists of Europe, among whom I noticed Shakespeare, 
 Moliere, Lopez de Vega, Cervantes, and Byron. 
 There are many customs connected with the drama 
 in Mazatlan which are rather disagreeable to a 
 foreigner. In the first place, every man smokes 
 during the whole entertainment, enveloping the 
 whole place in a cloud of that vapor which was 
 so offensive in the nostrils of His Majesty James 
 the 1st of blessed memory. Then, the perform 
 ance, which is advertised to commence precisely 
 at eight o clock, rarely begins before nine, while 
 the waits between the acts are simply intolerable ; 
 a play of three acts, which could easily be finish 
 ed by ten o clock, in all cases lasting up to half- 
 past eleven, and sometimes much later. But Mexicans 
 are never in a hurry, and " poco tiempo " and " man- 
 ana" are the words in their vocabulary most fre 
 quently in use. I should also mention that, except 
 on particular occasions, programmes of the perform 
 ance are rarely issued, publicity being given to the 
 same by a band parading the streets during the day. 
 The ladies attend the theatre in modern Ameri 
 can costume, discarding their own graceful and be 
 coming rebosa for a vile imitation of the worst 
 
THREE WEEKS IN MAZATLAN. 23 
 
 fashions of their neighbors, spoiling the appearance 
 o f their own usually waving, long black hair by 
 those horrible excrescences called chignons, and 
 utterly destroying the character of their clear olive 
 complexions by plastering them with paint and 
 pearl powder. The poorer class are great lovers of 
 the theatre, and will live upon nothing, and go with 
 bare feet for weeks, in order to save the treasured 
 dos reales which shall give them the entrance to 
 their favorite amusement. They seem to relish 
 keenly every joke uttered by the actors, and ap 
 plaud every point with infinite zest and good 
 humor. 
 
 We found the evenings sometimes rather lonely 
 in Mazatlan, and upon one occasion, when the 
 theatre was closed, we visited a grand panorama 
 professing to give us correct representations of the 
 principal cities of Europe and America. From the 
 flourish of trumpets which accompanied the an 
 nouncement, we expected something at least toler 
 ably good ; we saw a miserable peep-show, lighted 
 by two sputtering oil lamps, and consisting of a 
 series of magnifying bull s-eyes, through which we 
 viewed the wonderful pictures gathered at great 
 cost by the proprietor. A wretched hand-organ be 
 hind the scenes, which every now and then stopped 
 suddenly, in spite of the vigorous manipulation of its 
 owner, and then as suddenly went on again, taking 
 up the tune some sixteen bars beyond where it left 
 off, was the sole accompaniment of this wretched 
 
24 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 swindle. But worst of all was the view of San 
 Francisco. Now, I have never been to Lisbon or 
 Palermo, and therefore I might be imposed upon as 
 to the external appearance of these cities, but I do 
 know something about San Francisco, and when I 
 saw some impossible city, in which a huge elephant 
 paraded the suburbs, while a gigantic ostrich stalked 
 calmly by his side, I began to think that the pro 
 prietor s views of natural history were somewhat 
 mixed, and to wonder what ideas the rising genera 
 tion of Mexico would form of the natural produc 
 tions of the Golden State. We left the grand pan 
 orama in disgust, and did not visit it again during 
 its stay in the city. 
 
 The principal stores are elegant in their appoint 
 ments and contain an excellent assortment of goods 
 of all kinds ; the prices, as far as we could judge, 
 being much the same as those of San Francisco, 
 except for linens and silks, which were very much 
 lower. There are no shop-windows in which to dis 
 play the goods, and no posters whatever about the 
 walls to intimate where certain articles are to be 
 purchased, so that the intending customer has to 
 seek somewhat industriously for whatever he may re 
 quire. There are no newspapers in which to adver 
 tise, those published being simply small broadsheets 
 of daily news, generally in part, if not wholly, con 
 trolled by the government, and the shopkeeper has 
 therefore to depend upon his reputation and the 
 absolute wants of the community for the sale of his 
 
THREE WEEKS IN MAZATLAN. 2$ 
 
 wares. There are few manufactories on the Pacific 
 coast of Mexico ; sombreros, scrapes, pottery, and har 
 ness-work being the principal productions. We saw 
 several very elegantly mounted saddles and bridles, 
 some profusely ornamented with silver, a Mexican 
 taking great pride in the adornments of his charger. 
 Within the last few years an American gentle 
 man named Howell has established a cotton fac 
 tory in Mazatlan, which appeared to do a very 
 paying business. The cotton is grown in the in 
 terior and brought in its raw state to Mazatlan, 
 where it undergoes all the processes of cleaning, 
 ginning, spinning, and weaving into manta, or un 
 bleached calico, of which the jackets and trousers 
 worn by the Mexicans are invariably made. The 
 labor is all performed by Mexicans, who in time 
 make excellent operatives, a number of boys of ages 
 ranging from eleven to fifteen being among the 
 brightest of the whole. The wages paid are misera 
 bly small, thirty-seven and a half cents a day being 
 the average amount, out of which the poor people 
 have to find themselves. One dollar a day is the 
 pay of the foreman of the establishment, who, at 
 the time of our visit, was an American, very anxious 
 to return to his native country. Large quantities of 
 the calico find their way to Durango and Chihuahua, 
 where it is sold at the rate of about eight dollars for 
 a bale of forty yards. Close to this establishment is 
 a match factory, also owned by an American, where 
 matches of an excellent quality are made in large 
 
26 A MINGLED YARA T . 
 
 quantities, and find a very ready sale. Mr. Howell 
 and his brother had recently obtained a charter to 
 light Mazatlan with gas, an improvement for which 
 the inhabitants ought to have been eternally 
 grateful, but I regret to say that the speculation 
 proved any thing but remunerative, and that the 
 Messrs. Howell were yearly heavy losers by the 
 transaction. Before the introduction of gas, the 
 streets of the city were continually the scenes of out 
 rages and robberies, sometimes accompanied by bru 
 tal violence ; now such occurrences are, to say the 
 least, uncommon, and on the whole good order and 
 decency prevail. A policeman with loaded musket 
 and a lighted lantern stands at the corner of every 
 street, and after nine o clock in the evening whistles 
 loudly every half hour, thus serving a double pur 
 pose, by intimating the time of night, and giving 
 evidence of his presence. He is never allowed to 
 leave his post, so that in Mazatlan, at least, a police 
 man is always to be found when wanted. In addi 
 tion to this force, mounted police, well armed, 
 parade the streets during the day and night, by 
 their presence awing the desperadoes, and enforcing 
 the strictest quiet and order throughout the city. 
 
 I have spoken of the existence of two other plazas, 
 one of which is situated in the old town, and is now 
 rapidly falling to ruin. The hospital, which is a 
 most melancholy place, suggestive of every horror 
 which can afflict the human frame, occupies one end 
 of it, and might readily be taken for a prison, its 
 
THREE WEEKS IN MAZA TLAN. 2? 
 
 dark and gloomy portals admitting not a ray of sun 
 shine, while through the iron bars of their dismal 
 dwelling, the poor inmates, in every stage of dis 
 ease, stare longingly at the street without, and 
 beg an alms from the passers by. This was 
 the saddest sight we saw in Mazatlan, and its 
 recollection must remain fixed upon our minds. 
 The other plaza is called the Plaza el Toros, and has, 
 as its name implies, occasionally been devoted to 
 bull-fights ; the sport of which the Spanish races, 
 wherever found, are inordinately fond, but it is now 
 in a state of dirt and neglect. A little beyond 
 this plaza lies the cathedral of Mazatlan ; not such 
 an edifice as is often found in Spanish America, in 
 which architectural grandeur is heightened by the 
 most lavish and costly decoration, but a miserable, 
 whitewashed, tumble-down place, containing a few 
 tawdily dressed figures ; a worn-out table-cloth, dec 
 orated with shells and spangles, serving for the 
 covering of the altar. The floor is of brick, worn 
 into holes by the feet of the many devotees, and 
 the wood-work of the interior is everywhere per 
 forated by insects, and fast crumbling into dust. 
 An attendant in a white jacket, looking like the 
 waiter of a hotel, who begged from us as we came 
 away, was the sole occupant of the place at the time 
 of our visit, and, indeed, we learned upon inquiry, 
 that the claims of religion are little recognized, at 
 least by the rich portion of the inhabitants of 
 Mazatlan. The women always on Sunday morn- 
 
28 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 ings dress themselves in their very best and most 
 showy costume, and go regularly to matins, but be 
 yond this, little attention to religious duties seems 
 to prevade the community. A few years since, the 
 host was carried publicly through the streets, the 
 priest following, decked in his gayest robes, while 
 the festal days of all the saints in the calendar were 
 faithfully and strictly observed. The accession of 
 Juarez to power, however, destroyed the influence of 
 the priests, and drove them from the cities to 
 seek " fresh fields and pastures new." Now two 
 alone remain in Mazatlan, and these are unobtrusive 
 gentlemen, who accept matters as they are, and 
 quietly make the best of them. At a little distance 
 from the church, stands what there is of a grand 
 cathedral, commenced some seven years ago, upon 
 which upwards of $17,000 have been expended, 
 but which remains, and is likely to remain, in an 
 unfinished state, given over, like the theatre, to 
 the rats, bats, and turkey-buzzards which every 
 where swarm throughout the streets of the town. 
 It is noticeable that the two largest and most im 
 portant buildings in the whole city, the cathedral 
 and the theatre, should remain unfinished, and be suf 
 fered gradually to moulder away, as appears to be 
 their inevitable destiny. Beyond these there are 
 few public buildings of any importance, the barracks 
 of the soldiers being nothing more than a collection 
 of large adobe huts built in the form of a square, 
 while the prison is a miserable den open to the street, 
 
THREE WEEKS IN MAZA TLAN. 2Q 
 
 the inmates secured by iron bars, behind which, 
 unless confined for some very serious offence, they 
 laugh and joke and drink with those of their com 
 rades who enjoy their freedom. The tenants of 
 the prison at the time of our visit were mostly sol 
 diers, who were incarcerated for drunkenness and 
 other petty offences, and who seemed to treat their 
 imprisonment with all the levity at their command. 
 These soldiers are a most repulsive-looking lot of 
 fellows, idle, drunken, and dissolute ; they wander 
 about the streets in large bodies, sometimes of thirty 
 or forty strong, clad in uniforms of what once might 
 have been white calico, but which is now so be 
 grimed with dirt, and generally in such a state of 
 rags, that FalstafFs regiment would seem a well- 
 dressed crowd beside them. They are the terror of 
 quiet and respectable people, and as they pass along 
 it is usual to give them as wide a berth as possible. 
 If it so pleases them, they enter a store and call for 
 mescal, which for peace and quietness the proprie 
 tor is bound to give them, and after a day s debauch, 
 the materials for which have been thus easily ob 
 tained, they not unfrequently proceed in a body to 
 the grand esplanade, of which I have spoken, and 
 perform their ablutions in the bay, close to the 
 dwellings and immediately under the eyes of most 
 of the more refined inhabitants of the city. It is 
 useless to protest against their outrages, as no re 
 dress could be obtained, and to resent any insult 
 offered by them, would at any time be fraught with 
 
30 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 considerable danger, as a Mexican never forgives, 
 and either by himself, or by the hands of his friend, 
 would watch an opportunity to have his revenge 
 when none were near to tell the tale. I had been 
 told a number of rather alarming stories of the do 
 ings of these fellows during the first days of our 
 stay, and as I never had very strong military pro 
 clivities I was always glad to get out of their way. 
 If we saw them coming one road, we invariably went 
 another, and for a long time contrived to avoid 
 them, until on a Sunday morning, on which day 
 nearly the whole force in the barracks are allowed 
 their liberty, we came full tilt upon about a hun 
 dred of them, some of them half drunk, and all more 
 or less under the influence of liquor, singing and 
 shouting and rolling along the street, the very im 
 personations of dissipation in its worst and most 
 brutal form. They were accompanied by some wo 
 men, almost as degraded-looking as themselves, who 
 had also apparently been paying attention to the 
 " rosy," and I confess I almost trembled as I saw no 
 hope of turning out of their way. There was noth 
 ing for it but to pass right through the crowd, 
 so putting a bold face on the matter, we walked 
 boldly toward them, and hardly knew where we 
 were until we found ourselves in their midst. I 
 began to wish myself safe at the hotel, from which 
 we were considerably more than a mile distant, and 
 experienced something of that feeling which lives 
 among my memories as a boy, in which a cold shud- 
 
THREE WEEKS IN MAZATLAN. 31 
 
 der running down the back, and a gradual elevation, 
 one by one, of all the hairs of the head, used to fol 
 low the relation of some horrible ghost story. 
 
 Suddenly the whole army stopped, as if about to 
 make a concerted attack upon us, whispering to 
 each other and pointing toward us in a most sus 
 picious manner. I quickened my pace, but at the 
 same time turned boldly to face the enemy, when 
 I saw upon the countenances of all nearest to us, 
 an expression in which curiosity and wonderment 
 were strangely mingled, and instead of frowns and 
 threatening looks, a half-grim smile pervaded the 
 features of all. They were whispering to each other 
 and pointing at my wife, and I caught among other 
 words, those of one fellow, evidently the wit of the 
 party, shouting at the top of his voice : " La 
 senorita ! " They then burst into a loud horse-laugh, 
 amid the enjoyment of which we passed on our way. 
 The cause of their surprise and laughter was the 
 large sun-hat which my wife wore, and which, as I 
 learned afterward, procured her the title through 
 out Mazatlan of " the lady with the umbrella on 
 her head." 
 
 With the exception of my friends, the military, 
 the population of Mazatlan is by no means given to 
 drunkenness, and among fourteen thousand people 
 the best possible order usually prevails. The liquor 
 most in use among them is the different grades of 
 spirit extracted from the Agave, or American aloe 
 (Agave Mexicana), and known under the names of 
 
 [VI17B&SXT7J 
 
32 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 pulque, mescal (a contraction of Mexical), maguay, 
 and tequila. 
 
 The best quality, which is very rarely to be 
 obtained (as the Mexicans, among the few arts 
 which they have borrowed from their more civilized 
 neighbors, have learned to perfection that of adul 
 terating liquors), is a pleasantly-flavored spirit, 
 with a mixed taste of Peruvian Italia, and Scotch 
 whiskey, and is probably very intoxicating if 
 drank in sufficient quantity. A large revenue is 
 derived by the government from the tax on this 
 production, the chief quantity of which is made 
 in the interior of the country. The several species 
 of aloe are of remarkable value to the Mexicans, and 
 are turned to a variety of uses, the fibre making 
 a very strong and durable cordage, the refuse of the 
 leaves being formed into paper of a coarser quality, 
 and the juice of the young stems into excellent 
 soap. In addition to this, the most impenetrable 
 fences are made of the agave and cactus combined, 
 which have the double advantage of growing more 
 and more impenetrable as they increase in age. 
 Over all the rocky hills and islands near Mazatlan 
 some species of agave grow in considerable abun 
 dance, their dark-green foliage, terminated by sharp 
 spines and surmounted by their grand spike of yel 
 lowish, sweet-scented flowers, being among the first 
 objects to excite the attention of the stranger. In 
 the market-place of the city may be found a num 
 ber of the products of this mescal plant, and nearly 
 
THREE WEEKS IN MAZATLAN. 33 
 
 every Mexican who can afford it, keeps his own 
 still for the distillation of his favorite beverage. 
 
 The market is one of the interesting features of 
 the place, and among the first spots to which 
 the visitor directs his attention. It fills up a 
 large square or block close to the unfinished cathe 
 dral of which I have spoken, the stalls being ar 
 ranged in rows, the meat sellers occupying the 
 chief part of the centre. Here may be found, 
 at all seasons of the year, excellent lettuce, 
 onions, radishes, turnips, and other familiar vege 
 tables, while dried beans, or frijoles, singular-look 
 ing fruits, gourds of all shapes and sizes, and the 
 ever-present chilis, attract the native population. 
 The meat is cut into long strips, in a manner quite 
 unknown to us, and looks as if it were intended to 
 be sold by the yard ; pork, of a very superior quality, 
 and beef, being the most common. A good leg of 
 mutton, or a porter-house steak, is a thing unknown 
 in Mexico, and the manner of cooking utterly de 
 stroys our ideas as to how our meats should be 
 eaten. The breed of sheep most in favor appears 
 to be a long-horned, coarse-wool breed, which do 
 not readily take on fat, and are therefore not the 
 best kind for the butcher. Occasionally a deer 
 makes its appearance in the market, and finds a 
 ready sale ; and more rarely, the carcass of the 
 curious little animal, the armadillo, whose body is 
 covered by a horny shield, is brought in from the 
 country districts, and is in high favor with the Mex- 
 
34 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 ican gourmand. A living specimen of this very sin 
 gular and interesting creature was one day brought 
 to our hotel, and tied by its leg to a post in the 
 court-yard. In a day or two it became quite famil 
 iar, and was a perfect pet among the people stop 
 ping in the place, enjoying the society of man, and 
 always putting up its nose to be rubbed when any 
 one approached it. 
 
 One morning, just as we were preparing for our 
 first meal, we heard a cry of pain, which sounded 
 almost like a human voice, and on inquiring the 
 cause, learned that poor little armadillo had just suf 
 fered the death penalty, and that his body was to 
 be served up to us that day for dinner. Under 
 other circumstances I should have been glad to 
 know something of the taste of the flesh, but to 
 feed upon the body of a creature which, only a day 
 before, we had caressed and petted, w r as more than 
 we could stand, and with the death-cry of the little 
 wretch ringing in our ears we passed him by un- 
 tasted. Fish of various species and of excellent 
 quality are always to be found, and plenty of chick 
 ens find their way into the market, but when placed 
 upon the table they are usually so tough (for they 
 never kill any thing but the old fowls) that I can 
 say but little in their favor. Very few potatoes are 
 as yet grown in Sinaloa, those used being nearly all 
 imported from San Francisco, and retailing at the 
 high price of twelve and a half cents a pound. But 
 ter is remarkably scarce and very high in price, 
 
THREE WEEKS IN MAZATLAN. 35 
 
 none whatever being produced in the state, but 
 brought also from San Francisco, and doled out 
 very sparingly to whomsoever may require it. 
 Nevertheless, we constantly met on the outside of 
 the city large droves of well-shaped, finely bred cat 
 tle, capable of producing any quantity of milk and 
 butter, but seldom or ever put to this useful pur 
 pose. These cattle are naturally quiet and manage 
 able, but have been rendered quite the reverse by 
 the bad treatment of their owners. If a Mexican 
 wants to do any thing, milk a cow, for instance, he 
 generally contrives to go the farthest way round to 
 accomplish his purpose. In the case of this com 
 monplace operation, the services of not less than six 
 men are required : one to lasso the animal, another 
 to each of her horns, one to each hind leg, and one 
 to milk; the gentleman with the lasso, after having 
 secured the beast, usually lighting a cigarette and 
 holding the calf. It is no wonder that the poor ani 
 mals object to the process of milking, and that they 
 become restive and unmanageable under this system 
 of treatment. The milk is of fair quality, and is 
 sold about the streets at twenty-five cents a quart, 
 the cry of " leche" being one of the first to greet 
 the stranger s ear. 
 
 The morning after our arrival, we were of course 
 very anxious to be away on our travels as early as 
 possible, and rose with the sun, determined to lose 
 no time. We sat at our table in the piazza and 
 called for our breakfast. A cup of coffee and a 
 
3 6 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 small loaf of bread, with a sort of microscopic 
 shaving of butter on the rim of a saucer, were 
 brought us, and we just tasted these while the 
 substantiate were getting ready. After spending 
 nearly half an hour over this introduction to our 
 meal, I began to think that this was rather too 
 much waste of time, and called out to our English- 
 speaking friend, to know when breakfast was 
 coming. " Oh," said he, " that s all at present, 
 we don t have breakfast till half-past ten ; this 
 is the custom of the country, and you only get 
 the cup of coffee or chocolate to stay your ap 
 petite till the morning s meal." My countenance 
 fell. I knew that in Mexico, punctuality is not 
 a prominent virtue, and that half-past ten might 
 mean eleven, and the glorious butterflies, which 
 I hoped to catch long before that time of day, 
 faded from my mental vision. But we made up 
 our minds to submit quietly to every thing without 
 a murmur, and walked out to explore the city until 
 the hour for refreshment arrived. The meal was a 
 good one when it came, and we soon became used 
 to these at first inconvenient hours. Our daily 
 routine was to rise at daybreak, stroll about the 
 streets or the market, make little purchases, or visit 
 any places of note until breakfast, after which we 
 usually took a carriage and drove for a few miles 
 out of the city, spent the day in catching butterflies, 
 gathering plants or collecting shells, and walked 
 quietly home by about five o clock, the hour 
 
THREE WEEKS IN MAZATLAN. 37 
 
 for the hotel dinner. When I say a carriage, I al 
 lude to one of the lumbering hacks of the place, a 
 sort of seedy barouche, with a covering of oil-cloth 
 to protect us from the sun, drawn by a couple of 
 horses, sometimes mules, and driven by a civil and 
 obliging Mexican, who soon became accustomed to 
 our ways, drove us into good places for our sport, 
 and usually charged us half a dollar for a drive of 
 about a couple of miles. 
 
 Upon two other occasions we went for a drive 
 with some friends, when we penetrated for a con 
 siderable distance into the country, and returned 
 with heightened impressions of its beauty. On one 
 of these, we rode in a sort of spring wagon, covered 
 with canvas, with seats for six persons, and drawn 
 by five white horses, three in front and two at the 
 pole, our equipage causing no inconsiderable stir in 
 the streets of Mazatlan. The harness, it is true, was 
 not highly ornamented, and was tied in some weak 
 spots with pieces of tape and packthread, but the 
 horses were full of spirit and rattled us along the 
 excellent road for some twenty miles in a glorious 
 style. It takes two men in Mexico, however, to 
 drive a team, one to hold the reins and crack the 
 whip, and the other to help by shouting and pelting 
 the horses with small cobble-stones, a number of 
 which he carried in a rawhide bag beside him on 
 the seat. If the horses lagged a little, or came to 
 a bad place in the road, this gentleman would jump 
 off the box, run alongside them for a few yards, 
 
3 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 start them into a gallop, then remount his seat with 
 the greatest ease, and continue the enjoyment of his 
 cigar. In this way he performed some really diffi 
 cult feats, and would certainly have made his fortune 
 in a circus. Upon another occasion, an American 
 gentleman who owns a buggy and pair, one of the 
 few in the city, was kind enough to invite us to join 
 him in a ride, and we looked forward to a spin be 
 hind a fast pair of trotters. We were doomed to 
 disappointment ; the buggy was a double-seated 
 one, well built and roomy, but the horses were the 
 most miserable pair of bare-boned, broken-down 
 wretches I ever saw, out of whom to get more than 
 four or five miles an hour would be an impossi 
 bility. Of course we said nothing, but after we 
 had ridden a mile or two, and our friend had 
 used up his arm in flogging and urging the poor 
 animals along, he said to me, " I suppose you won 
 der why I drive such a miserable pair as this?" I 
 modestly replied that I did not think they came of 
 thorough-bred stock. "No," said he, "I should 
 think not ; they are the worst brutes I could find in 
 the district. I used to pride myself upon good 
 horses, and had, until the last revolution, a very fast 
 team, but some of the rebel generals, when they 
 took possession of the city, took also a fancy to them, 
 and one day sent down and confiscated them. I 
 bore this with as good grace as I could, and bought 
 another pair, still better and faster, but upon the 
 rebels being recently driven out, and the party of 
 
THREE WEEKS IN MAZATLAN. 39 
 
 the government coming into power, one of the 
 officers set his eye upon my team, said they were 
 wanted for military purposes, and sent some sol 
 diers to take them from my stable up to his own 
 quarters. To be bitten twice in this way was 
 enough, so I thought that little game played out, 
 and now I drive a pair that it is not worth any 
 body s while to steal." This little incident, which 
 I relate in almost the words of my friend, will serve 
 to show you how much security there is for property 
 in the city of Mazatlan. It is well for me to men 
 tion here that the roads leading from Mazatlan were 
 at this season of the year in capital order, and ex 
 cept in some places near the sea, which were occa 
 sionally flooded at high tides, would bear very 
 favorable comparison with many of the roads in 
 California, the track running for miles through 
 what was once an almost impenetrable forest with 
 out encountering a stump or a hole. They are 
 never metalled, and their excellent condition is prob 
 ably in part owing to the porous nature of the upper 
 soil, which never, even in the rainy season, when the 
 water pours down in floods, suffers it to remain long 
 upon the surface. 
 
 We found some excellent collecting in the vicini 
 ty of the town ; but when our walks were confined 
 to the immediate neighborhood, we were always 
 followed by a troop of children, who thought our 
 butterfly-hunting glorious sport, and entered into it 
 with more energy than I ever saw them display on 
 
4O A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 other occasions. They ran here and there, rushing 
 after the unfortunate insects with their hats, crush 
 ing them out of all recognizable shape, and bring 
 ing them to me with an air of the most profound 
 triumph. They would call out to their friends at 
 the neighboring huts, and soon half a dozen of 
 them would be increased to twenty. 
 
 One day I found a most curious and beautiful 
 wasp s nest, covered with its living inhabitants, and 
 was endeavoring to -secure my prize, taking full pre 
 cautions against being stung, when the young 
 urchins destroyed my sport by pelting the nest and 
 the wasps with stones, spite of all my protestations, 
 depriving me of every specimen and breaking the 
 nest into a thousand pieces. This was too much 
 for me to bear, and I accordingly told them to 
 ** vamoose," which, with much reluctance, they at 
 last did. After this, they used to follow us at a 
 distance, and catch insects on their own account, 
 and it is more than probable that by this time many 
 hundreds of butterflies have fallen to their sombre 
 ros. These children were bright-eyed, open-faced 
 little fellows, revelling in dirt and freedom, but 
 without any of that furtive and designing look 
 which is too often the accompaniment of their 
 older relatives. They, as all of the male sex, wear 
 jacket and trousers of thin white calieo, with wide 
 sombreros, more or less ornamented, mostly made of 
 straw. The men wear the serape, or blanket, many 
 of which are of brilliant colors, and extremely pict 
 uresque and ornamental. 
 
THREE WEEKS IN MAZATLAN. 41 
 
 The women, when young, are remarkably pretty ; 
 their dark and speaking eyes, long eyelashes, and 
 usually white teeth, lighting up faces of strong 
 expression ; while their black hair, always well 
 combed and glossy, with their graceful and well- 
 shaped forms, moulded in all the luxuriance of a 
 tropical climate, combine to make them abundantly 
 attractive to a stranger s eye. They appear, how 
 ever, to fade very early, and at about thirty years of 
 age they lose all traces of their former beauty, while 
 among the elder members of the sex may be found 
 some veritable hags, such as with little alteration 
 would serve for the witches of " Macbeth," or the 
 Fates of Michael Angelo. The dresses of the 
 younger women are usually of very pretty pat 
 terns, the products of French looms, and hang 
 gracefully over their well-moulded forms ; their 
 walk, like that of all people free from the trammels 
 and restraints of fashion, being free, erect, and firm. 
 A white chemise, not always concealing the upper 
 part of the body, and a black or gray rebosa com 
 plete their costume ; the ever-present cigarette, and 
 the tobacco stains upon their lips and fingers, giving 
 evidence of their love for the soothing weed. They 
 are invariably affable, courteous, and kind, and we 
 never paused to look through the door-way of a house, 
 without being invited to enter, to take the best seat 
 the dwelling afforded, and to inspect every thing of 
 interest which it contained. They are remarkably 
 fond of pets, and no hut, however poor, is without 
 
42 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 its parrot, dog, or cat, while the pigs are generally 
 allowed to share the hospitalities of the mansion. 
 They appear to do a considerable share of the usual 
 labor which is the lot of the poor, though in no case 
 did we see women carrying heavy burdens, beyond 
 their purchases from the market, and, on the whole, 
 they looked as if they were well treated and con 
 tented with their lot. The making of the everlasting 
 tortillas, the chief article of food of the lower classes, 
 appeared to be their chief occupation. These tortillas 
 are the pulpy paste of hulled corn, ground by hand, 
 by a block of hewn lava about a foot long and three 
 inches in thickness, upon a stone trough placed at an 
 angle of about 45. After the paste has attained its 
 proper consistency, it is beaten out by the hand 
 into round flat cakes, and then baked upon a hot 
 stone. Occasionally, among the better class, a most 
 delicate and palatable dish is made of these tortillas 
 by adding chopped meat, grated cheese, finely cut 
 onions, peppers, and tomatoes, with a dash of garlic 
 added ; and the proper mixture of the ingredients 
 for the ensclados, as they are called, is the chief 
 triumph of the culinary art. The pottery used in 
 every Mexican household is of remarkably pretty 
 designs, reminding one of some specimens which are 
 brought from Pompeii. It is of hard finish, and 
 very clear and strong. It is mostly made far 
 in the interior, and when we consider that it has to 
 be brought for hundreds of miles over the mountain 
 roads, it is astonishing that it can be sold at so 
 
THREE WEEKS IN MAZATLAN. 43 
 
 reasonable a rate ; as a whole assortment of sizes, 
 shapes, and patterns, numbering about fifteen or six 
 teen pieces, can be purchased for a dollar. In 
 these are cooked the chilis and frijoles, a kind of 
 dark-red bean, which, with the tortillas, form the 
 leading article of diet with the humbler classes. 
 The plants on which these beans grow, are most 
 beautiful climbers, with large bunches of lilac and 
 crimson flowers, and pods, when fully developed, 
 twelve inches in length, plants which grow almost 
 wild in every garden, but which would be an orna 
 ment to any conservatory. Upon our collecting 
 trips we often visited some of the small gardens at 
 tached to the dwellings of the poorer people, and 
 never without being invited to carry away speci 
 mens of any thing which the place afforded. 
 
 There were only about twelve Chinese in Mazat- 
 lan, at the time of our visit, and these all filled the 
 positions of cooks, so that the washing was done by 
 women, who make use of the water of one of the 
 large lagoons about a mile from the city for the pur 
 pose. A hundred of them may be seen sitting on 
 the banks, themselves but little encumbered with 
 clothing, chatting pleasantly over their work, while 
 some soldiers, totally divested of their apparel, may 
 be taking a bath and at the same time washing their 
 horses close by. We had wandered, soon after our 
 arrival, near to this lagoon, and had caused a con 
 siderable amount of destruction among the insect 
 tribes, when we suddenly encountered a rather sar- 
 
44 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 donic-looking Mexican, who appeared interested in 
 our pursuits. He followed us for a considerable 
 distance, always keeping pretty close to us, and when 
 I stopped to pin a butterfly, poking his sombrero 
 close under my nose to watch my movements, per 
 sistently telling that " muchos grandos mariposas " 
 were to be found a little further on. " Further on" 
 we went, the grandos mariposas luring us away, until 
 we found ourselves close to the cemetery, far 
 from every habitation, and with no human being 
 besides ourselves in sight, or within half a mile of 
 us. Our companion would not be cast off, but stuck 
 so closely to us, that my wife began to feel alarmed, 
 and suggested our return home, saying that there was 
 no one near us but his own countrymen, and that they 
 would be sure to help him, and adding, by way of a 
 clincher: " You know, Harry, your Spanish is so 
 awfully bad that they can t understand you, and 
 they might rob or murder us without its being 
 known." I said : " Oh, nonsense it s all right ; 
 where s the money?" " Oh, that s safe enough," 
 said she, when suddenly it occurred to me that we 
 were, perhaps, giving him a hint as to what was best 
 for him to do to us, and I said in a whisper : 
 " Suppose the beggar speaks English." This was 
 enough. Our butterfly-hunting was spoiled for that 
 day, so we turned and retraced our steps toward the 
 city. 
 
 Perhaps, after all, we wronged that Mexican 
 by our suspicions, and he may have followed us 
 
THREE WEEKS IN MAZATLAN. 45 
 
 from a real interest in our pursuit, and to gather 
 a little knowledge on a subject hitherto a sealed 
 book to him. We soon arrived on the high-road 
 and among a number of people, and felt more 
 at our ease; but our friend did not leave us until 
 we came face to face with a custom-house officer 
 carrying a drawn sword (notched and very rusty), 
 who spoke English, and with whom we had previ 
 ously formed a slight acquaintance. Upon meet 
 ing him, our companion of the morning slunk off 
 toward the sea-beach, and was soon lost to sight 
 among some bushes. Our custom-house friend told 
 us that he was guarding the highroad with a view 
 to preventing the entrance of any contraband goods, 
 but I suppose finding our society more agreeable 
 than his own solitary walk, he left the road to take 
 care of itself, and accompanied us back to the city. 
 As he spent three mortal hours in our society, I do 
 not feel at all clear as to how the smuggled goods, 
 if any, were prevented from entering the city dur 
 ing his absence. 
 
 The Mexicans are great people for levying duties, 
 and immediately outside of the city are stations at 
 which officers are always placed to collect taxes 
 upon all kinds of produce going in or out of the 
 city. They levy both ways, the poor charcoal-car 
 rier having to pay for his mule s burden as he goes 
 into town, and for the corn which he takes back for 
 his family food as he goes out of it. The mer 
 chants, too, frequently suffer in the matter of duties. 
 
46 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 During one of the recent revolutions, the rebels 
 drove the government forces out of the city, and 
 then proceeded to collect all duties upon goods 
 arriving in the port, compelling the merchants to 
 pay them at the point of the bayonet. Upon the 
 government defeating the rebels and driving them 
 out of the city, they, in their turn, demanded the re 
 payment of the duties which had been forcibly 
 taken by the rebels, and in every instance succeeded 
 in collecting them, and this, too, in the face of hav 
 ing left the city entirely without protection. One 
 firm alone was victimized during our stay to the 
 tune of over $11,000. There is no doubt that the 
 revolutions are very frequently brought about by 
 some of the foreign residents, who, having large con 
 signments of goods to arrive, look out for some am 
 bitious and unprincipled man, willing to lend his 
 name to a pronunciamento, and proclaim a new gov 
 ernment. During the excitement the goods are 
 passed at the custom-house, by order of the parties 
 in power, free of duty, pretismos or forced loans are 
 levied upon those who are best able to pay, and so 
 the system of wholesale robbery goes on. In these 
 forced loans the government forces are just as bad 
 or worse than the rebels, for I learn, from the most 
 reliable source, that out of $240,000 paid by the 
 great house of Echeguron Brothers for forced loans 
 during the past nine years, only $37,000 have been 
 paid to the rebel forces. These constant revolu 
 tions have, as every one knows, been the curse of 
 
THREE WEEKS IN MAZATLAN. 47 
 
 Mexico, have degraded her people, stopped the 
 path of progress, and rendered life and property 
 fearfully insecure. Even during our stay in Mazat- 
 lan, two young men of great promise, sons of an 
 old American gentleman whose name and history 
 are well known to me, were cut to pieces within 
 twelve miles of the city, in consequence of some 
 land disputes, and the consul was requested by the 
 bereaved father to make no complaint to his gov 
 ernment, or otherwise cause the outrage to become 
 public, as in that case they would murder him ! I 
 am fully convinced that only a very small propor 
 tion of the crimes perpetrated upon the foreign resi 
 dents of Mexico find their way into our newspa 
 pers, and the frequency of the little wooden crosses 
 upon the roadsides and in the fields, each one erected 
 to commemorate some violent death, and to ask a 
 prayer for the victim from the passers by, is a suffi 
 cient evidence of the lawlessness of the people, and 
 of the small importance they attach to the crime of 
 shedding their fellows blood ! 
 
 In Mexico, it seems to me that the principle of 
 justice is unknown, and that might is everywhere 
 superior to right, the motto of all being, " That they 
 should take who have the power, and they should 
 keep who can." 
 
 No man now cares to possess himself of a home, 
 for he knows not how soon it might be forcibly 
 taken from him, and he himself thrown upon the 
 world a ruined and broken man, Mines of almost 
 
48 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 fabulous wealth, too, lie unworked in the interior 
 of the country, from the same cause ; those in 
 the hands of foreigners being always defended by 
 a large force of men, and then not to be regarded 
 as within the pale of safety. The claims of 
 American citizens alone against the Mexican Gov 
 ernment for property destroyed, houses ransacked, 
 operatives murdered, live stock carried off, and 
 other outrages during the past nine years, amount 
 in the aggregate to over sixteen millions of 
 dollars ; depositions testifying to these facts, of 
 the fullest and most complete character, from up 
 wards of a hundred persons, having been collected 
 by General Adams, the commissioner sent from 
 Washington to investigate the claims, these depo 
 sitions being in themselves of such a remarkable 
 character as to read like a romance of the Mid 
 dle Ages. General Adams, in the performance 
 of his duties, underwent much suffering, and braved 
 many dangers, riding for hundreds of miles over 
 roads on which one false step of the mule might 
 precipitate him and his rider thousands of feet be 
 low, and passing without a guard through districts 
 well known to be infested by bandits of the most 
 cruel and bloodthirsty nature. Seeing the worst 
 and the best side of the Mexican character, he is 
 enabled to present to his government a fair state 
 ment of the case at issue, and to hasten on a better 
 state of protection for the foreign residents of Mexi 
 co than has hitherto been accorded to them. If the 
 
THREE WEEKS IN MAZATLAN. 49 
 
 foreigners who are now settled there chose to 
 withdraw from the country there is little doubt that 
 a series of internecine struggles would, in the course 
 of years, so rapidly diminish the population as to 
 leave little of the semblance of a nation. 
 
 In 1821, when they threw off the Spanish yoke, 
 the Mexicans numbered over fifteen millions ; to 
 day the estimate comes under eight millions; inclu 
 sive of the large foreign element which has since 
 that time been introduced. With this terrible de 
 crease in the population she presents the melan 
 choly spectacle of a nation fast falling to decay, 
 her approaching dissolution brought chiefly about 
 by the ambition and greed of her higher classes, 
 who should have been the examples and upholders 
 of a better state of things. The great anaconda of 
 the North, as some of her writers are pleased to 
 call the United States, advances slowly upon her 
 with open jaws; the future of Mexico is plainly 
 written in the coming time, and her destiny clearly 
 and legibly foreshadowed. In the common benefit 
 of our common humanity, let us pray that that time 
 may soon approach, and that the garden of the 
 North American Continent may, under a more en 
 lightened government, be made to produce that 
 bounteous fruit with which it is so capable to bless 
 and benefit the world ! 
 
 It is rarely that a month passes without some part 
 or other of Mexico being in a state of revolution, 
 and during our visit scenes of blood and rapine were 
 
50 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 being enacted in the Canton of Tepic, only about one 
 hundred and fifty miles from Mazatlan, which were 
 of a nature to make the cheek pale and the frame 
 shudder. Manuel Lozada, " General and Natural 
 Chief of the District of Tepic," as he styles himself, 
 had for years past been the terror of the district in 
 which he rules with despotic sway, and had hitherto 
 defeated all attempts of the government to dislodge 
 him. The life of this man is full of such terrible in 
 cidents, that the relation of them sounds almost in 
 credible ; nevertheless, hundreds of witnesses, many 
 of whom have personally suffered from his cruelty, 
 can bear ample testimony to their truth. He is a 
 full-blooded Indian, and one of the most degraded 
 monsters that ever blotted the page of history, an 
 cient or modern. He was born near Tepic, some 
 where about 1824 ; he is therefore about fifty years 
 of age, and for the earlier years of his life worked as 
 muleteer and laborer on a ranch in the neighbor 
 hood. He early in life gave evidence of his cruel and 
 bloodthirsty nature. A man named Morales, passing 
 his mother s hut one day, asked for water, which 
 for some reason or other was refused by the inhos 
 pitable Indian, on which Morales applied to her 
 an opprobrious epithet, and rode away. Lozada, 
 then a boy of about eighteen years of age, being 
 apprised of this, swore to have his revenge. En 
 listing the services of three companions, he followed 
 Morales for two days, until they came upon his track, 
 when having seized him, they killed his horse, tied 
 
THREE WEEKS IN MAZATLAN. 51 
 
 him to a tree, cut the skin from the soles of his feet, 
 and compelled him to walk in this condition for sev 
 eral miles, until exhausted nature forbade his pro 
 ceeding further. They then robbed him of all he 
 possessed, and literally cut him to pieces. Upon 
 this atrocious act being known, an attempt to arrest 
 Lozada was made by the authorities, but he escaped 
 with a few followers to the mountains, the passes 
 and fastnesses of which were well known to him, 
 and amidst which he defied pursuit. Here for sev 
 eral years he held sole possession ; and being rein 
 forced by every desperado who could escape the 
 clutches of the loosely administered laws, until his 
 party was upwards of two thousand strong, they 
 made constant raids in every direction, until the 
 very name of Lozada was a sound at which the 
 bravest quailed. Villages burned, churches and 
 dwellings ransacked, men robbed and murdered, 
 and women outraged, were almost daily occurrences, 
 and all efforts to dislodge him proved of no avail. 
 Thousands of dollars were offered for his capture, 
 alive or dead, but without effect ; for although he 
 several times descended from the mountains and 
 placed Tepic under contribution, he always managed 
 to carry himself out of the reach of the military, 
 and make good his retreat to the wild and rocky 
 defiles where none dare follow him. 
 
 This reign of terror continued for some years, un 
 til about 1860. When the Church party came into 
 power, they invited Lozada from his mountains, 
 
52 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 and in pursuance of their wishes he came to Tepic, 
 proclaimed himself as its governor, professed repent 
 ance of his crimes, was baptized by the head of 
 the Church, carried in a grand procession through 
 the streets, and at last canonized as a saint, his fes 
 tal day being to this very time most rigidly cele 
 brated in Tepic. After this, he suppressed all out 
 rages throughout his district, taking and holding to 
 himself the power to punish crime, and allowing no 
 one to injure another even in self-defence, hanging 
 or shooting any of his followers for the most trifling 
 theft, and utterly abolishing highway robberies and 
 other crimes until then so rife around him. Beyond 
 his province, however, his band of ruffians continued 
 uninterruptedly their reign of blood, without inter 
 ference from their chief; but it is only just to Lo- 
 zada to say, that since his so-called conversion, he 
 has made the district of Tepic the most tranquil in 
 the whole of Mexico, and perfectly safe for travellers 
 and others, who could journey through any part of 
 his territory with the utmost safety. His own cruel 
 nature, however, has found vent in the most terrible 
 and disgusting crimes. He caused his wife and 
 mother to be shot before his eyes in the court-yard 
 of his own house, the one for supposed infidelity to 
 him, and the other for concealing her knowledge of 
 it. He surrounded a village of poor people who 
 had offended him, with a troop of soldiers, drove the 
 inhabitants, numbering some one hundred souls, 
 men, women, and children, into their huts, mostly 
 
THREE WEEKS IN MAZATLAN. 53 
 
 made of branches of the cocoa trees, set fire to 
 them, and roasted the poor wretches alive. A Mr. 
 Chase, an American gentleman, owner of a large 
 tobacco factory near Tepic, once spoke his mind, in 
 the principal hotel of the place, with reference to 
 Lozada s doings, and that very night, on his way 
 home, was seized, thrown into prison, and literally 
 chopped to pieces within a few hours after his 
 honest, but perhaps imprudent, words had been 
 spoken. These are but a few instances of those re 
 lated to me by gentlemen of credibility, on whose 
 word I could fully rely. I dare not here mention 
 many other still more revolting deeds laid to this 
 monster s charge. With such rulers as this what 
 must be the state of Mexico? And yet, because 
 " there is coin in it," Lozada is to-day upheld by a 
 powerful party, some English and Americans, I 
 blush to say it, being numbered among his political 
 supporters. 
 
 Lozada is a man of low stature, with heavy brows 
 and long black hair, and keeps his eyes constantly 
 on the ground. He is never known to look a man in 
 the face, his own being almost concealed by a heavy 
 black sombrero which he wears low down upon his 
 forehead. The crafty wretch has always steadfastly 
 refused to have his portrait taken, though many 
 stratagems have been resorted to to obtain it. A 
 photographer recently hired a house opposite to 
 Lozada s quarters in Tepic, cut a hole through his 
 shutter, and fixed his camera exactly opposite the 
 
54 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 balcony on which the general was accustomed to 
 walk. Our friend thought every thing was all right, 
 and that the coveted portrait was now a thing of 
 certainty, but Lozada, with the inherent keenness 
 of his race, noticed the change in the shutter, 
 caused the artist to be arrested, and gave him three 
 hours to quit Tepic. I need not say that there was 
 one photographer less in that city on the following 
 morning. This man is immensely wealthy, his 
 money in English banks alone amounting, it is said, 
 to over four millions of dollars ; and by his money 
 and the prestige which attaches to his name, he is 
 enabled to surround himself with an army which 
 numbers some 15,000 strong, and thus to form a 
 powerful antagonist to the government, who will 
 have considerable difficulty to deprive him of his 
 power. 
 
 His natural enemy is General Ramon Corona, one 
 of the most intelligent, honest, and patriotic men in 
 Mexico, who, when at the head of his army, never 
 goes better clad than his soldiers, and who, upon a 
 handsome saddle of the value of $500 being given 
 to him in Colima, sold it, and divided the proceeds 
 among his half-famishing troops. Corona is a young 
 man, full of courage and enthusiasm, and has sev 
 eral times put Lozada to a hard push, but the 
 Indian s superior strength has always stood him in 
 stead, and he has invariably remained master of the 
 situation. He appears to bear a charmed life, as he 
 has been lanced twice, shot through and through, 
 
THREE WEEKS IN MAZATLAN. 55 
 
 stabbed several times, and lately had his right hand 
 shattered and his eye blown out by the explosion of 
 a fuse of giant powder which some one had placed 
 near his person in the hope of getting rid of him. 
 I was informed, however, by a refugee from Tepic, 
 who came to Mazatlan only a few days before I left 
 it, and who fled for safety to that city, that Lozada s 
 earthly career is fast drawing to a close. He is 
 passionately fond of liquor, and his drinking pro 
 pensities have of late made such inroads upon his 
 constitution, that his death may speedily he looked 
 for. Should this event soon happen, drunkenness 
 will have done the only good thing it ever did in 
 the world s history, and many persons in Mexico 
 will be enabled to say in all sincerity of heart, 
 " Thank God for whiskey." 
 
 The revolution then raging in Tepic was the chief 
 topic of excitement at the time of our arrival in 
 Mazatlan, and rumors of a most alarming character 
 were daily reaching us, while crowds of people were 
 arriving constantly, having been driven from their 
 homes by Lozada s troops, or by the fear of what 
 might happen. The people of Mazatlan themselves 
 scare terribly at the thought that Lozada, if he suc 
 ceed in defeating the government forces, will one day 
 take possession of their city, an operation not at all 
 difficult of accomplishment, as the whole force of 
 soldiery in Mazatlan does not exceed five hundred 
 men, while the entire army of the State of Sinaloa 
 does not reach eight hundred. Those, however, 
 
56 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 who are best informed on the subject seem to think 
 that he has enough to do to defend his own terri 
 tory and to keep the forces of the government from 
 occupying Tepic. I see by the latest telegraphic 
 reports, that he has threatened to burn this city, 
 the most beautiful and elegantly built town in the 
 west of Mexico! Our hotel seemed to be a wonder 
 ful receptacle of all the rumors which were flying 
 about and disturbing the peace of the people, and 
 one little Frenchman in particular used to choose 
 the hour in which we sat down to our dinner, to 
 rush in and destroy our appetite by his each day 
 more horrible news ! He always made a rush into 
 the piazza with an open copy of a telegram in his 
 hand, and running his hands through his hair, would 
 gesticulate and strike an attitude with all that ear 
 nestness and extravagance of action so peculiar to 
 his nation. I could occasionally catch the words, 
 " Lozada beware blood death ! " and such-like 
 soothing sounds ; but when he exclaimed, " Mon 
 Dieu ! " and fell dramatically into a chair, I thought 
 it was all up with us, and dropping my knife 
 and fork, I rushed to the top of the house in the 
 vain hope of seeing the signal of an approaching 
 steamer, which should bear me away from such san 
 guinary scenes to my quiet home in San Francisco. 
 That fellow, however, cried " wolf " too often, and 
 we began to look upon him as a blower, and at last 
 paid little attention to his alarms. We felt our 
 selves pretty safe, for a few weeks at least, and so re- 
 
THREE WEEKS IN MAZATLAN. 57 
 
 solved to think no more of revolutions, and make 
 the best of our stay. We listened to the band 
 " discoursing eloquent music " in the plaza at night, 
 and indulged our love of natural history by day, 
 heedless of the distracting events occurring around 
 us, and realizing the elegant words of Thomson : 
 
 " The fall of kings, 
 
 The rage of nations, and the crush of states 
 Move not the man who, from the world escaped, 
 In still retreats and flowery solitudes 
 To Nature s voice attends, from month to month 
 And day to day, through the revolving year ; 
 Admiring sees her in her every shape, 
 Feels all the sweet emotions at his heart, 
 Takes what she liberal gives, nor thinks of more." 
 
 The country immediately surrounding Mazatlan 
 consists of a series of broken hills at some little dis 
 tance, varying from a half mile to two miles 
 from each other, and crowned to their summits with 
 a dense growth of shrubs and small trees. In the 
 valleys between these hills is found a rich alluvial 
 loam, highly retentive of moisture, capable of grow 
 ing crops year after year without the slightest atom 
 of artificial manure, and cultivated in the most 
 primitive style of agriculture. The plows used are 
 heavy wooden affairs, pointed at the end of the 
 share, which scratch rather than turn the soil, and 
 which look like the figures we find upon Egyptian 
 monuments. These are drawn by oxen, which are 
 yoked by their horns, and driven by a sharp-pointed 
 
58 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 stick. Very little land is under cultivation com 
 pared to the vast extent of the country; and in 
 the uncertain condition of the republic and the 
 muddled condition of all titles to real estate, it is 
 not likely that, until a material change shall come 
 about, much improvement can be hoped for. The 
 cultivated patches are fenced either with the cactus 
 or with upright poles, about ten feet high, placed 
 a few inches apart, and tied together with the ten 
 drils of a plant allied to the convolvulus, which 
 grows abundantly at the sea-side. It is not an un 
 usual occurence to find a cultivated clearing hemmed 
 round on all sides by a dense, impenetrable bush, 
 which forms a natural fence superior to all others. 
 Many, in fact most, of the plants are furnished 
 with long, sharp, and cruel thorns, which interfere 
 terribly with one s passage among them, and in the 
 most ruthless manner tear both clothes and flesh. 
 Mimosas and cassias, with lovely flowers, giving 
 forth an exquisite scent, become almost repulsive by 
 their savage armature, and the pain we suffer as we 
 attempt to force a way through the thick foliage, 
 robs us of half our pleasure as we contemplate the 
 wonders of vegetation scattered everywhere around 
 us. For there is much, very much, to charm the 
 senses in the botanical glories of this enchanting 
 land. Though we were in the winter season, when 
 the trees and shrubs put on any thing but their gay 
 est livery, we found on every hand abundant illus 
 trations of the singular plants which grace the State 
 
THREE WEEKS IN MAZATLAN. 59 
 
 of Sinaloa. Large, straggling trees, without the 
 semblance of a leaf, would be crowned at their tops 
 with crowded bunches of flowers, lilac, pink, purple, 
 white, red, and yellow being the conspicuous colors. 
 The growth of flowers before the appearance of 
 the leaves is one of the botanical peculiarities most 
 observable among some classes of vegetation, while 
 grand crimson epiphytes and orchids, parasitic upon 
 the. limbs of trees, cannot fail to strike the eye of 
 even the most unscientific observer. The branches 
 of the mesquite trees were frequently ornamented 
 with the nests of the so-called "tailor-bird" which 
 is really a species of oriole (Icterus pustulatus) sin 
 gularly formed structures, nearly a yard in length, 
 while troops of gorgeous humming-birds of several 
 varieties might be seen piercing the flowers with 
 their slender tongues. The mesquite (prosopis 
 glandulosd) produces a very fine, hard, close-grained 
 wood, which is highly valuable for cabinet work and 
 inlaying, and could easily be made a large article of 
 export. At present it is chiefly employed in the 
 making of charcoal, that produced from the mes 
 quite commanding the highest price in the market. 
 
 As we leave Mazatlan and advance nearer to the 
 mountains, the timber becomes larger and of greater 
 variety, and many exquisite specimens of orna 
 mental and sweet-scented woods were shown to me 
 as products of the more hilly districts. The species 
 of plants belonging to the genus Solatium, of which 
 the tomato and potato are familiar forms, were espe- 
 
60 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 daily abundant, and a lovely jessamine, with clear 
 white, wax-like flowers, and a most powerful fra 
 grance, was found in every clump of bushes. One of 
 the india-rubber trees also grows abundantly in 
 some of the forests near the city ; its dark green, 
 widely spreading foliage being always a conspicuous 
 object. We saw very few of the higher animals; a 
 small species of rabbit, a squirrel, and the armadillo, 
 being the only varieties which came under our notice. 
 Birds, however, were very numerous, both in species 
 and individuals, and I have seen few places in my 
 life which would better reward the labors of an or 
 nithologist than the country around Mazatlan. It 
 was here that the lamented Grayson made his ad 
 mirable collection, from which were drawn those ex 
 quisite plates which will hand his name down to 
 the future in company with Wilson, Audubbn, and 
 Gould. Grayson s remains lie peacefully in the 
 cemetery of the city; and as I stood beside his grave, 
 with that feeling of enthusiastic admiration which 
 one lover of nature always feels for his more 
 gifted brother, I grieved that one so eminent 
 should be, even among his own countrymen, so 
 little known. His book on the " Birds of Mexico," 
 as yet without a publisher, is an exhaustive treatise 
 on the species of the region he so thoroughly ex 
 plored, and is worthy to take rank among the 
 very first scientific productions of the century. 
 The Pioneer Society of California intend to honor 
 the memory of Grayson by one day conveying his 
 
THREE WEEKS IN MAZATLAN. 6 1 
 
 dust to San Francisco. I hope they will follow up 
 this work by causing the publication of his book, as 
 by that means they would raise to his memory a 
 monument far more lasting than marble, and one 
 that will endure while science lives. 
 
 In my favorite pursuit of entomology I found 
 much, very much, to interest me, and supply me 
 with food for thought and study for many years to 
 come. It may be of some interest for me to state 
 that during our three weeks stay we collected up 
 wards of five thousand specimens of natural history 
 objects, many of which may possibly turn out to be 
 new to science. We searched the woods for plants 
 and insects, and the sea-shore for shells, star-fishes, 
 crabs, and the many other curious forms of marine 
 life, and each day found something strange to us, 
 on which to feast our eyes and to furnish us with 
 materials for investigation at a future day. 
 
 We saw but few noxious creatures of any kind, 
 scorpions being certainly the most abundant, and 
 attaining a considerable size. Snakes are very 
 rare, and near the city almost entirely unknown. 
 Ants are numerous, but more remarkable for their 
 beauty than for any distinctive properties. The 
 little leaf-cutting species (fEcodoma cephalotes), so at 
 tractive and at the same time so destructive in 
 Texas and Arizona, are also remarkably abundant in 
 Mazatlan, and nearly every day we came across one 
 of their colonies. These industrious insects line 
 their nests with the leaves and berries of trees, and 
 
62 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 they wander off an immense distance from their 
 homes in search of their leafy stores. Sometimes 
 for several hundred yards they may be traced 
 along a beaten path, marching in double file, one 
 bearing portions of leaves about half the size of a 
 postage stamp, and the other, having delivered their 
 burden at the nest, returning to the tree for more. 
 In this way they march over sticks and stones, 
 rarely turning out of their way for any impediment, 
 those on the right-hand track never in any way in 
 terfering with their opposite neighbors, but going in 
 the most methodical way about their business, ap 
 parently thoroughly intent upon their work. I ac 
 cidentally trod one day upon one of these columns, 
 destroying, of course, several of the insects, and 
 disturbing the course of the army. The ants bear 
 ing leaves still continued their journey, but those 
 with empty jaws immediately cleared the track of 
 their dead comrades, and then went on as if noth 
 ing had happened. These remarkable insects brought 
 forcibly to mind Shakespeare s lines 
 
 " Let every soldier hew him down a bough, 
 And bear t before him." 
 
 And so, in this strange city, undisturbed by the 
 noise of cars and fire-engines, in which the columns 
 of a newspaper were to us unknown, where no boot 
 blacks or peddlers ever come, where the rush of 
 business forces itself not upon the mind, and the 
 wheels of life roll steadily and lazily along, our time 
 
THREE WEEKS IN MAZA TLAN. 63 
 
 passed dreamily away. But the pleasures of the 
 world come suddenly to an end. The last butterfly 
 was caught, the last strange plant gathered, the last 
 shell carefully cleaned and put away, when the red 
 flag on the signal staff announced the coming of a 
 steamer, and told us that the hour of our .departure 
 had come. That evening, with 
 
 " A feeling of sadness and longing 
 That is not akin to pain," 
 
 we bade adieu to Mazatlan in the darkness, and were 
 soon once more upon " the deep blue sea," thread 
 ing our mysterious way over its ever-restless, ever- 
 solemn depths. 
 
 NOTE. I must ask my readers to remember 
 that eight years have elapsed since the foregoing 
 paper was written, and that during that time many 
 and important changes have occurred in the history 
 and manners of Mazatlan. An excellent hotel is 
 now in course of erection ; the abuses in the custom 
 house and pilot department have been greatly miti 
 gated ; the tyrant Lozada has passed to his ac 
 count ; the telegraph is in admirable working order ; 
 and the fruitful valleys of Sinaloa will soon be pene 
 trated by that grand pioneer of civilization, the rail 
 road. With such changes in the social condition of 
 a country come better impulses in the minds of its 
 people, and it is to be hoped that many of the ob- 
 
64 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 stacles to the progress of Mexico which recently ex 
 isted are swept away, and that she may soon take 
 the place among the nations of the earth to which 
 the possession of a glorious country, a fertile soil, 
 and an almost perfect climate, eminently entitle 
 her. 
 
IRON 
 
 AND ITS RELATION TO CIVILIZATION. 
 
 An address delivered at the annual opening of the 
 Mechanics" Fair, San Francisco, August 8, 1876. 
 
 THE field of thought covered by the title I have 
 chosen for my address is a mighty one, far too vast 
 for the contemplation of an hour, and only on the 
 present occasion to be regarded as the opening of 
 the volume, leaving the wealth of its pages un 
 touched and unexplored. It is one of the contra 
 dictions of our imperfect nature, that those objects 
 which are always present with us, and which be 
 come as it were a part of our every-day existence, 
 receive too little consideration at our hands. We 
 take them as our right, and utterly unconscious of 
 that spirit of gratitude which should fill our souls 
 at the knowledge of the countless blessings which 
 are ours unsought, we pause not to consider whence 
 they come, how important they may be to our daily 
 wants, or how great the loss we should sustain by 
 their withdrawal from our possession. And iron is 
 one of these, iron that common metal with which 
 we are all so familiar, with the use of which in some 
 form or other we hourly come in contact, of whose 
 
 65 
 
66 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 chemical constituents we now know much, whose 
 formation and geologic conditions have been made 
 clear, by the light of modern science, but whose dis 
 covery by man, and his first application of the 
 metal to the uses of his life, are all but a sealed 
 book to us, the smallest streaks of light alone break 
 ing in upon us to relieve the darkness of our search. 
 Far off in that remote period in which history is 
 utterly lost, and even tradition becomes merged in 
 the gloom of obscurity, we may imagine some dusky 
 savage starting with delight and wonder as he views 
 the sparkling crystals of the heavy lump of stone 
 beneath his feet, of the composition of which he 
 knew nothing, but which in after ages was destined 
 to be the greatest " boon to mortals given," the 
 grand handmaid of progressive civilization, and the 
 all but indestructible basis of the noblest works 
 which ever emanated from the genius of mankind. 
 How the first crude worker in iron conceived the 
 idea of reducing that coarse, heavy mass into a mal 
 leable form, rendering it plastic and obedient to the 
 skill of his hands, we know not ; here the curtain 
 falls upon our ken, and imagination, unaided by 
 positive knowledge, can alone assist us. Owing, 
 however, to the difficulty which exists in reducing 
 it from its ores, its extreme hardness, and the want 
 of discrimination as to which variety of ore would 
 be the most productive, it would appear that iron 
 was by no means the first metal whose use was 
 learned by our progenitors ; doubtless yielding in 
 
IRON. 67 
 
 this respect, to lead, silver, and copper. But still 
 in this statement, we are wandering into the realms 
 of speculation. The condition of man in his earlier 
 stages of existence was probably as different in all 
 its general characters as our own may be from that 
 of the inhabitants of Jupiter or Saturn, and the only 
 certainty we can lean upon is that, the metal once 
 found, its uses gradually became known ; the first 
 purposes to which it was applied being, prob 
 ably, the fabrication of weapons of the chase or 
 of war. These far-off times are shrouded in mys 
 tery, but as we stand awhile upon the mountains of 
 thought, far removed from the petty vexations of 
 life, and contemplate the stir which everywhere 
 around us has proceeded with the most ceaseless ac 
 tivity, we see written as the eternal law of Provi 
 dence, a progressive change from a lower to a higher 
 form of existence, and recognize in every depart 
 ment of our being, examples of this progress work 
 ing ever upward and onward to a grand purpose a 
 purpose as yet unfulfilled, but expanding day by day, 
 and hour by hour, nearer and ever nearer to that 
 perfection which, though never absolutely reached, 
 is, in the very nature of things, one day com 
 pelled to burst into the open sky of peace, of free 
 dom, and of love. And so, as the geologist, by the 
 aid of physical facts, can trace the growth of worlds 
 and assign to each created thing his place and pe 
 riod in the vast scale of creation, from the azoic 
 age, devoid, as the name implies, of the smallest 
 
68 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 trace of life, up to that marvellous epoch when the 
 earth echoed with the tread of man, so can we 
 understand how that mighty being 
 
 " By slow degrees, by more and more," 
 
 improved in growth and culture, and gave evidence, 
 even in those barbaric days, of a civilization yet to 
 be, a civilization still unseen, but as perfect and as 
 certain as is the form of the flower within the un 
 opened beauty of the bud. And as he grew stronger 
 and stronger, gaining hourly in intelligence, and in 
 each century of his existence removing himself fur 
 ther and further from the brute condition of his 
 primal form, fulfilling that eternal law of outgrowth 
 which shines with untiring brilliancy upon all the 
 handiworks of God, his wants necessarily became 
 more and more numerous, the products of earth 
 were searched and tested to satisfy his desires, and 
 every object which could by any means aid those 
 wants, was greedily seized, and forced into the army 
 of their supply. Among these iron undoubtedly 
 held a foremost place ; and though we can assign no 
 positive period as the date of its first manufacture, 
 the researches of Sir John Lubbock and others have 
 marked its existence among the lacustrine dwellings 
 of Switzerland, away back in those prehistoric times 
 when man had no records, and has left no trace of 
 his existence beyond the buried relics of his prim 
 itive homes ; while, descending the stream of more 
 approximate history, we find that Homer, who is 
 
IRON. 69 
 
 supposed to have lived in the ninth century before 
 Christ, is accredited in Pope s translation of the 
 Iliad and the Odyssey with many allusions to this 
 metal. In the latter poem, Minerva, under the 
 guise of " Mentes, the monarch of the Taphian 
 land," while explaining to Telemachus the reason 
 of her visit to Ithaca, says : 
 
 " Freighted with iron from my native land, 
 I steer my voyage to the Brutian strand, 
 To gain by commerce from the labor d mass 
 A just proportion of refulgent brass." 
 
 These facts would tend to show a greater antiquity 
 for the use of iron than has usually been assigned to 
 it ; and explorations made of late years in the 
 great Pyramid of Cheops, have brought to light 
 some wedges of iron firmly embedded in the crevices 
 of the enormous blocks of stone of which those 
 structures are composed, which could not have been 
 manufactured, according to the best Egyptian 
 scholars, subsequent to 3000 B.C., while in the buried 
 cities of Asia and America, iron implements of vari 
 ous kinds, and ornamental designs in the same 
 metal, have been frequently discovered. But it is 
 from that grand storehouse of knowledge which, 
 however degenerated to-day, has been the birth 
 place of many of our most treasured discoveries, 
 from the 
 
 " Rich Orient, studded with her gems," 
 
 that the first historical records of the uses of iron 
 
/O A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 came to us, carrying us down the mighty river of 
 time to the more familiar period of the Greek and 
 Roman dynasties, and it is from about three hun 
 dred years previous to the Christian era that our 
 really reliable information comes ; the Romans, then 
 the masters of the world, being probably the first to 
 perceive the malleable properties of the metal, and 
 to apply it to many uses before unknown. It is cer 
 tain that the rich mines of the Island of Elba were 
 worked by them upwards of 2,500 years ago, while we 
 learn from the Commentaries of Caesar that on his in 
 vasion of Britain the spears and lances of the inhabi 
 tants of that island were either wholly made or tipped 
 with iron, and during the occupation of Britain by 
 Julius and his successors, the rich mines of the Forest 
 of Dean, in Gloucestershire, were constantly worked 
 by the Romans, numberless cinder heaps in that 
 grand old domain still remaining to mark the rude 
 efforts of the conquerors to extract the coveted 
 metal from its rebellious ore. Over many of these 
 cinder heaps, now covered with rich soil, the product 
 of disintegration and decomposition in the past cent 
 uries, I have often wandered as a boy, and gathered 
 lovely flowers which grew up in the crevices of these 
 singular remains ; the cinder heaps of Dean Forest 
 being spots well known by every naturalist who has 
 visited that region, in winter producing many rare and 
 curious fungi, and in summer equally rare flowering 
 plants, which, in their turn, were visited by insects 
 elsewhere but seldom seen. The furnaces used by 
 
IRON. 7\ 
 
 these people in smelting the ore are, in many cases, 
 still in existence, being always erected on the top 
 of some eminence, so as to obtain the greatest force 
 of the wind. Charcoal was used for the fires, and it 
 is not difficult in some places to trace the remains 
 of charcoal pits nay, even of the very trees cut 
 down for the purpose of being converted into fuel. 
 " The processes of extracting the iron were, however, 
 naturally very rude and imperfect, and left so much 
 iron in the cinders, that several of the heaps in the 
 Forest of Dean furnished the chief supply of ore to 
 twenty furnaces for upwards of two hundred years." 
 From the time of the Romans the workmanship 
 in iron gradually improved, and its use spread over 
 Europe and Asia ; large deposits of ore being dis 
 covered in Sweden, Russia, Siberia, Persia, Italy, 
 France, and England. The last-named country 
 now produces the bulk of this metal ; one bed, in the 
 northeast of Yorkshire, yielding for several years 
 no less than the enormous amount of four hundred 
 thousand tons per annum, while some mines in the 
 county of Cumberland gave, in 1861, the almost 
 incredible result of one million tons. Next to Eng 
 land in point of production stands the United 
 States, though very much that is used is still 
 imported from Europe. There is good reason to 
 hope that, in a few years, by increased facilities, and 
 by the exercise of enterprise and capital, the iron 
 mines of North America will take the lead of all 
 the world, and in their turn supply much of the de- 
 
 
 
72 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 mand from the older countries across the Atlantic. 
 The early settlers of this country, though soon be 
 coming acquainted with the existence of metal 
 liferous deposits, could not make them a special 
 object of their search, as the beds of ore with which 
 they were enabled to become acquainted were, for 
 the most part, far removed, in those days, from their 
 settlements, and were known chiefly to the Indians, 
 who manifested a hostile feeling to the invaders of 
 their soil. It was not until the year 1702 that a 
 furnace for the purpose of smelting iron was erected 
 in Plymouth County, Mass., being followed a 
 few years later by such other enterprises in Rhode 
 Island and Maryland. The pig-iron thus produced 
 was chiefly exported to Great Britain, where it was 
 admitted free of duty, manufactured articles of iron 
 and steel being returned in its stead. In 1771, the 
 shipment of iron from this country to Great 
 Britain amounted to 7,525 tons, the exportation 
 ceasing with the War of Independence, one hundred 
 years ago. 
 
 I am not here to-day to speak to you of your mar 
 vellous advances in every department of economy 
 which tends to the permanence of your social prog 
 ress, since that eventful period of American history 
 in which an oppressed people rose to vindicate 
 their rights, and to trample beneath their liberated 
 feet the shackles which had so long bound them ; 
 but I may respectfully, as an Englishman, ask you, 
 natives of this vast and ever-advancing country, to 
 
IRON. 73 
 
 believe that, in common with myself, there are 
 thousands in your mother-land to-day who hail your 
 "Declaration of Independence" as the dawn of a 
 new era of freedom, not for yourselves alone, but 
 for all who have felt the heel of the tyrant, and who 
 crown your glorious work, in this centennial year, 
 with the thanksgiving and the blessing which ever 
 spring from the depths of warm and sympathizing 
 souls. And it is good to remark in this connection, 
 that that very Declaration had in view, in one of its 
 clauses, the grievances which the early settlers ex 
 perienced in the harsh measures adopted by Great 
 Britain to prohibit the erection of furnaces for the 
 smelting of metals, the mother-country having passed 
 an act denouncing all such erections as " nuisances," 
 fearing that the growth of such manufactories would 
 tend to lessen her hold upon her transatlantic terri 
 tory. But, happily, this overbearing tyranny is at an 
 end, and by a tremendous bound, rather than by 
 gradual growth, the Union has become the second 
 in importance as an iron-producing country, and this 
 in the short space of a single century. 
 
 I find it stated in Gray s " Physical Atlas," that 
 " after the close of the war, the chief supplies were 
 again furnished by Great Britain, from the lack in 
 the United States of the capital necessary for the 
 successful prosecution of the business. The natural 
 advantages possessed by Great Britain, powerfully 
 co-operated with her legislation, and as her rich de 
 posits of iron and coal were in close juxtaposition 
 
74 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 and in localities not far removed from the coast, the 
 iron interest became so fully established that no 
 nation accessible to her ships could successfully 
 engage in the same pursuit, until by following her 
 example its own mines and resources could be fully 
 developed." In 1810 the amount of pig-iron pro 
 duced in the United States was 54,000 tons ; in 1828 
 this had increased to 130,000 tons; in 1842, to 240,- 
 ooo tons; and in 1876, to the enormous result of 
 2,052,881 tons this vast quantity being the product 
 of 3,210,918 tons of iron ore. It may be well for 
 me to add that fully one half of this was mined in 
 the State of Pennsylvania alone ; though large de 
 posits of ore exist in Ohio, New York, Missouri, and 
 Michigan in fact, there are no States in the Union, 
 with the exception of Florida, Texas, and Louisiana, 
 which do not contribute their quota to this priceless 
 branch of industry. 
 
 Year by year the yield of iron in the United 
 States, as well as in Europe, is constantly increasing, 
 and from the most reliable statistics at my com 
 mand, the total product of the year 1874 amounted, 
 in round numbers, to about nine millions of tons, the 
 value of which, taking the average price of pig-iron 
 at that time, was not less than two hundred millions 
 of dollars. The mind almost staggers under these 
 tremendous figures, and did we not know how uni 
 versal was the use of this metal, we should hesitate 
 to accept such statements. But the purposes to 
 which it is applied in our social economy are all but 
 
IRON. 75 
 
 infinite, and as civilization advances with her giant 
 strides, " iron, more iron," is the cry forever upon 
 her lips, as the grandest need of her progressive path. 
 
 It is away from my present purpose to talk to you 
 of the chemical composition of iron. I would not 
 if I could, and I could not if I would ; but it may 
 be well for me to state that iron is never in a state 
 of nature found absolutely pure, but exists in com 
 bination with other substances, forming oxides, car 
 bonates, phosphates, silicates, and iodides of iron, 
 which are again subdivided into various specific me 
 tallic forms and compounds. Probably the richest 
 of all known ores, containing, I believe, nearly 
 seventy-three per cent, of pure iron, is that techni 
 cally known as the black oxide, a variety for which 
 Sweden is especially famous, the metal produced 
 from it being generally esteemed the best in Europe. 
 The mines of Dannemora, in Sweden, have been con 
 stantly worked since the i$th century, while large 
 deposits of this variety (known also as magnetic iron) 
 are found in the Ural Mountains of Russia, and in 
 this country, in Canada, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, 
 and Virginia. "The rock formations in which mag 
 netic iron ore occurs contain no coal, hence it is 
 almost always smelted with wood-charcoal, which, 
 as it contains no sulphur, is one great cause of the 
 superiority of the iron produced from it." 
 
 With regard to the process of smelting, I find on the 
 authority of "Chambers s Cyclopedia," that "char 
 coal was constantly used for this purpose up to 1618, 
 
76 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 when Lord Dudley introduced the use of coal; but 
 the iron-masters being unanimously opposed to the 
 change, Dudley s improvement died with him, and 
 was not re-introduced until 1713, when Abraham 
 Derby employed it in his furnaces at Coalbrook 
 Dale. About 1750 the introduction of coke gave 
 renewed vigor to the iron trade, and then followed 
 in rapid succession those improvements in its manu 
 facture which give to the history of iron all the 
 interest of a romance. The steam-engine of Watt ; 
 the process of puddling and rolling invented by 
 Henry Cort, in 1784; the employment of the hot 
 blast by Neilson, of Glasgow, in 1830; and the well- 
 known Bessemer process of later days, were grand 
 discoveries in this branch of industry, and worthy 
 pioneers of the more extended knowledge of the 
 reduction and utilization of the metal which, year 
 by year, is made to dawn upon the horizon of me 
 chanical science. 
 
 Indeed, the energy and intelligence bestowed 
 upon the subject of iron throughout the world, are 
 in themselves sufficient to prove its extreme impor 
 tance to the race, did not its multifarious uses come 
 hourly beneath our notice, and testify to its ex 
 istence as a necessity of our being. Who can over 
 value its worth ? Who can attempt to sum up the 
 comforts we derive, the blessings we enjoy, from a 
 knowledge of its uses and its power? The miles 
 on miles of railways which stretch themselves like 
 a net-work over the surface of our planet, binding 
 
IRON. 77 
 
 continents together in a bond of fellowship, and 
 linking distant nations hand to hand, would have no 
 existence, but for iron ; the pumps which draw the 
 sparkling water for us from the depths of the earth ; 
 the pipes which convey it from distant reservoirs for 
 our cities use ; the fleets of white-winged ships which 
 stud our seas, like messengers of love, carrying 
 blessings from one land to another, exchanging the 
 fruits of the earth, and cementing the whole world 
 in one compact and universal brotherhood ; the 
 grand and complicated machines which fill your 
 courts to-day, and attract the attention and move 
 the wonder even of mechanical minds ; the lofty 
 structures which rise around us on every hand, sub 
 limely reaching up to heaven as if in mute but 
 earnest praise to the grand creative Mind whence all 
 has sprung, attest in trumpet tones the precious 
 boon which iron has become to man the most im 
 portant want and blessing of his race. 
 
 Turn where we will, its worth is seen ; examine 
 where we may, its power and its uses are experienced 
 and known. There is no position in life, no rank in 
 society, which is independent of its assistance. Not 
 only in those mighty works, which assert man s claim 
 to the gratitude of coming ages, but in the minor 
 details of our daily life, in all the countless relations 
 which go to make up the sum and comfort of our 
 being, the value of this marvellous product is en 
 forced upon our attention. 
 
 The surgeon s instruments, and the bridge which 
 
7 8 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 spans a cataract; the dainty needle, and the hammer 
 which can crush a ton; the scythe of the mower, and 
 the lever which can stir a palace ; the fearful war- 
 guns before whose fire whole armies sink as puppets, 
 and the wire which cages the imprisoned bird; the 
 light-houses which protect our coasts, throwing their 
 beacon lights far across the deep as the wanderer s 
 warning and his sign, and the pen which writes our 
 messages of love ; the delicate mechanism which 
 guides the movements of our watch, and the stupen 
 dous columns which lift themselves far up into the 
 eternal and bare their brows to God, these are but 
 a few of the varied purposes to which it is applied, 
 and for which it claims our recognition and regard ! 
 And let us ever remember, that for it no substitute 
 can be offered no metal known to us can take the 
 place of iron in its controlling and multifarious uses. 
 For gold, silver, copper, lead, or tin, something may 
 be found to supply the place ; for iron, nothing ! 
 
 It is terrible to contemplate the utter blank which 
 the world would become, if it were possible that by 
 some sudden convulsion it could be withdrawn 
 from us and banished from the earth. As if by the 
 touch of a magician s wand, a desolation, vast and 
 awful, to which the most fearful earthquake that 
 ever devastated the world would be but as the 
 falling of a house of cards, the plaything of a child, 
 would come upon us, a desolation so stupendous 
 and so crushing in its immensity as to suggest the 
 day foretold by the prophet, " a day of darkness 
 
IRON. 79 
 
 and of gloominess, a day of clouds and of thick 
 darkness," a desolation which would send our planet 
 with its thirteen hundred millions of souls drifting 
 backward and ever backward to her primitive con 
 dition, the intelligence of her inhabitants fading 
 with the lapse of the ages, and her surface becoming 
 gradually unfitted for the abode of man ! 
 
 The mind can hardly realize the change the 
 paralysis of all endeavor, the destruction of the 
 mighty aids to labor, the uprooting of all social and 
 business institutions, and the total annihilation of 
 commerce in all its forms which would follow such a 
 vast and overwhelming catastrophe ! Our grandest 
 edifices would crumble into dust ; our noble 
 ships would become shapeless masses, and go 
 down rotting to the sea s extremest depths ; our 
 telegraph would no longer waft its messages with 
 lightning speed, putting " its girdle round about the 
 earth"; our mighty engines, which now with almost 
 a living voice proclaim themselves the emperors of 
 force and power, which carry us with such rapidity 
 from place to place, making the once unknown cor 
 ners of the earth but pleasant visiting spots for a 
 summer tour, would pass forever from our sight ; 
 our printing-press would cease its holy labor ; our 
 fields would become choked with weeds, and the 
 furrows of the plough be known no more ! The 
 civilization of which we now so* worthily boast 
 would have run its course, would lapse into the 
 barbarism out of which it sprung, and 
 
80 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 " Like an unsubstantial pageant faded, 
 Leave not a rack behind ! " 
 
 This may be a melancholy picture, but it by no 
 means exaggerates the endless evils we should suffer, 
 could the iron of the earth be at once eliminated 
 from its products; and the contemplation of such an 
 appalling wreck should at least help us to be grate 
 ful for so powerful an adjunct to our social wants. 
 And looking down the vista of the coming years, do 
 we not, with our more interior vision, see the pos 
 sibility of a still wider application to the cravings of 
 a succeeding race, than any we have known ? Does 
 not the daily growth of the arts and sciences which 
 occupy man s attention to-day, and the cultivation 
 of which adds hourly to his refinement, and brings 
 his nature nearer and ever nearer to the Divine, 
 does not this suggest the existence of uses for this 
 metal even greater than those we already know 
 uses as yet but dimly seen, even by the speculative 
 and far-seeing mind ? Perhaps we are but yet upon 
 the threshold of the temple, and the secrets beyond 
 the vestibule may yet be hidden from our gaze. In 
 the more refined arts of life in engraving, in pho 
 tography, in the polishing of various substances, in 
 the cutting of glass, and in the structure of orna 
 mental designs, our knowledge may be fairly said to 
 be in its infancy ; and turning from the peaceful 
 and purifying arts of life, to considerations of an 
 opposite character, do we not with a thought per 
 ceive how, of late years, at least within our present 
 
IRON. 8 1 
 
 century, iron has been employed by man to meet 
 one of the exigencies of his nature, in the construc 
 tion of those vast and fearful implements of war, 
 which are among the most striking features of our 
 age ? The iron-clad ships which, in their present 
 and more perfected form, had their origin in 
 America, and which to the number of nearly four 
 hundred, with the aggregate equipment of over three 
 thousand guns, are now employed by all the warlike 
 nations of the globe, are due to the existence of 
 iron. The perfect immunity of these vessels to the 
 discharges of the cannon in vogue among our fathers, 
 suggested heavier artillery, and more powerful guns 
 were needed to penetrate the armor of this mighty 
 fleet. Those of modern times have attained such 
 sizes and such power, that we stand aghast at the 
 marvellous amount of ingenuity and constructive 
 genius which men have devoted to the destruction 
 of each other, and wonder if that glorious period 
 spoken of by Tennyson 
 
 " When the war drum throbbed no longer, and the battle flags were 
 
 furled 
 In the Parliament of man, the Federation of the world " 
 
 lives but in a poet s dream. The guns made by 
 Krupp, of Prussia, who was one of the pioneers of 
 this branch of industry, challenge our admiration, at 
 the same time that they excite our awe. 
 
 One of these stupendous weapons, made for the 
 Russian government in 1868, had a total weight of 
 fifty tons, the diameter of the bore being fourteen 
 
82 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 inches, and the length of the barrel two hundred 
 and ten inches. This gun would carry a shot weigh 
 ing one thousand two hundred and twelve pounds, 
 the propulsion of which would require a charge of 
 not less than one hundred and fifteen pounds of 
 powder. The price of this gun, with its carriage 
 and turn-table complete, amounted to one hundred 
 and fifty thousand dollars of our currency; the time 
 occupied in its construction being sixteen months of 
 unremitted labor. How terrible the expenditure of 
 all this skill and power for the one purpose of de 
 struction ! But as in the physical world we see that 
 earthquakes, hurricanes, and volcanoes subserve a 
 useful purpose, and prepare the earth for the culture 
 and the use of man, so is it held by many thinking 
 and philanthropic minds, that with the improvement 
 of our weapons of war, the era of peace will the more 
 speedily come, that era of which Elihu Burritt, the 
 learned worker in iron, who was " transplanted from 
 the anvil to the editor s chair, by the genius of 
 machinery," triumphantly says : " War shall die, 
 and all things that love the face of man and the 
 face of nature, that love to look up into the pure 
 and peaceful sky, that commune with the silent 
 harmonies of the great creation, and listen to the 
 music of unreasoning things, all these shall fill the 
 heavens with one grand jubilate that the great can 
 nibal is dead ! " But however this may be, certain 
 is it, that through these mighty engines of destruc 
 tion the strife of nations will no longer be decided 
 
IRON. 83 
 
 in close contact upon the blood-stained deep, or on 
 the crowded battle field. " The sword may indeed be 
 turned into a ploughshare and the spear into a prun- 
 ing-hook," but the horrors of war will be rendered 
 more shortlived, even if more devastating and more 
 decisive, in their operation ; and while we sorrow 
 over the deadly feuds which agonize our race, let 
 us remember that the destinies of nations are in wiser 
 hands than ours, and that we, in our impotence, can 
 but look on, wonder, and revere. 
 
 I feel that I have already detained you too long, 
 but I must, before I conclude, say a few words as to 
 the existence upon our own coast of the metal we 
 have had under consideration, and the probability 
 of its one day becoming an object for the employ 
 ment of capital. It may be already known to you 
 that in several portions of this State, deposits of 
 iron ore exist, which need only increased enterprise 
 to render them of immense value and importance. 
 In Sierra Valley, near Marysville, and near Colfax, 
 large beds of ironstone have been discovered, and 
 when it is known that, according to a statement 
 recently made in the Mining and Scientific Press of 
 this city, " the quantity of iron annually used upon 
 this coast cannot be less than 60,000 tons, worth in 
 the rough, about $3,000,000, and in a manufactured 
 state not less than $10,000,000," it must be allowed 
 that the development of the iron resources of Cali 
 fornia and the neighboring States is at least worthy 
 of consideration. In Oregon, some excellent mines, 
 
84 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 producing ore of the very finest quality, have long 
 been profitably worked ; and in British Columbia, a 
 whole island in the Gulf of Georgia, known as 
 Texada Island, waits but the energy of a few deter 
 mined men to give to the world iron ore sufficient to 
 keep employed hundreds of laborers for many dec 
 ades to come. 
 
 The city of San Francisco alone has within its 
 limits no less than forty-seven iron foundries, 
 machine shops, and boiler factories, employing 
 upwards of three thousand hands, expending an 
 nually for wages not less than $1,000,000; and yet 
 it is safe to say that not more than two thousand 
 tons of the iron used by these establishments are the 
 product of our own region. It would appear that 
 there is something wrong here, when we consider 
 that the deposit on Texada Island, to which I have 
 just alluded, contains on a rough estimate nearly 
 twelve millions of tons of ore, and that the cry of 
 dear coal and scarcity of wood for the purposes of 
 making charcoal, which may have some weight in 
 California, cannot prevail here, abundance of both 
 coal and wood being close at hand for the purposes 
 of smelting, while nature affords every facility for 
 shipping the result of the enterprise, and conveying 
 it to its market in other lands. Surely it can 
 not be deemed Utopian to believe that the day is 
 not far distant when this production of a metal in so 
 general demand all over the world will become one of 
 the most attractive industries of our coast, and that 
 
IRON. 85 
 
 we may supply our numerous foundries with the 
 basis of their labor, mined and smelted within the 
 limits of our own boundary. 
 
 At the close of the first century of her indepen 
 dent existence, America has no reason to be abashed 
 at her condition among the nations; and when we 
 think that California has hardly completed her first 
 quarter of the same period, we may well be proud of 
 the progress which she displays to-day ! States, 
 like children, must have time to grow, and, expand 
 ing into maturity, to shake off the weaknesses of 
 their early growth ; and if we are now passing 
 through a stage of fast life, too eager for the sudden 
 acquisition of wealth, and neglectful of opportuni 
 ties which lie within the reach of our hands, the day 
 is not far distant in which we shall cast off the too 
 feverish excitement which surrounds us now, and 
 with more sober judgment, and experience none the 
 less valuable because purchased in the market of 
 failure, direct our energies and our power to the 
 grandest foundations on which the prosperity of a 
 country can be based the enlightened cultivation of 
 her soil, and the industrious and intelligent develop 
 ment of her mineral treasures ! 
 
BUBBLES FROM BOHEMIA. 
 
 "The earth hath bubbles as the water hath, 
 And these are of them." Macbeth. 
 
SHAKESPEARE. 
 " HIGH JINKS," April 27, 1873. 
 
 A LITTLE over three centuries ago, in an obscure 
 town in the midland counties of England, seated on 
 the edge of a silvery river, in the bosom of a lovely 
 country hereafter to be hallowed by the glory of 
 immortal genius, in this memorable month of April, 
 the quiet household of a simple tradesman was 
 made happy by the birth of a son an incident of 
 small importance in itself, but fraught with won 
 drous interest when in these later days we look back 
 upon the past, and recognize the influence which 
 that new-born infant has since exercised upon the 
 minds of civilized people throughout the world, and 
 the halo of eternal honor with which by common 
 consent he has been crowned. The pride and glory 
 of the Anglo-Saxon race, by universal opinion 
 placed at the very apex of fame s topmost pinnacle, 
 his works translated into every language, his noble 
 and passionate thoughts taught in every tongue, 
 and his sublime utterances glowing upon every cul 
 tivated lip, he stands alone and unapproachable 
 among the world s worthies, as the inspired expo 
 nent of whatever is grand in human thought, of 
 whatever is exquisite and tender in human sympa 
 thy, and of whatever serves to throw an illuminating 
 
 89 
 
Cp A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 radiance upon the more gloomy recesses of man s 
 mysterious and many-sided soul. The solemn depths 
 of abstruse philosophy, the comprehensive domain 
 of moral and social science, and the grand empire of 
 external nature were alike open to his penetrating 
 vision ; and while the sounding tread of the advanc 
 ing army of man s progressive thought found an echo 
 in his soul, he ever and anon turned aside to con 
 template the fairer forms around him, and to paint 
 the glories of creation s universe in colors which can 
 never fade, but which derive an added freshness as 
 we view them by the light of that increased culture 
 bestowed upon us by the passage of the years. The 
 details of his personal life are meagre in the extreme ; 
 but though we cherish every trifling part connected 
 with his history, so long as his divine works remain 
 with us the incidents of his career are but of little 
 moment, as in the utterance of Shakespeare s name, 
 we pass out of the sphere of life in which he moved 
 when on earth, and associate ourselves with him 
 more by the magnetism of his genius than by the 
 knowledge of how he looked or talked, or what 
 social position he was called upon to fill. That he 
 was kind and gentle in his nature we are well 
 assured ; that he was beloved by his friends we have 
 the fullest testimony ; and that his large and gen 
 erous heart found ample gratification in administer 
 ing to the welfare of others, can be established 
 beyond a question. A hater of injustice and a foe 
 to tyranny ; fighting, in a somewhat darkened and 
 
SHA KE SPEA RE. 9 1 
 
 slavish age, the battle of equal rights for all man 
 kind ; always upholding the cause of the oppressed, 
 and fearing not to expose and lay bare to view the 
 follies and crimes of vicious rulers, he was preemi 
 nently a reformer of the most exalted and unselfish 
 type. The lessons which he everywhere teaches, of 
 duty to parents, of the love which should pervade 
 the social circle, of the respect which should be 
 given to the gentler sex, of the strict honesty of 
 purpose which should characterize every action of 
 our lives, the abiding faith which he inculcates, of 
 reliance on a higher power, and the grand and 
 solemn truths which he utters as to the immortality 
 of man s soul, exhibit to us in a most powerful 
 degree the excellence of his moral nature; and the 
 grains of gold which he has everywhere scattered 
 along the highway of life, indicate the unbounded 
 wealth of his genius and the wondrous fertility of 
 his mental power. 
 
 What subject has he not touched ? What theme 
 has he not exalted? What phase of intellectual 
 beauty has he not polished and adorned ? In saying 
 of him that " he was not for an age, but for all time," 
 his brother poet has but echoed the universal senti 
 ment of mankind ; for judging Shakespeare s genius 
 by the light of our modern civilization, we see clearly 
 how far in advance of his own age were most of the 
 principles which he inculcates, and how, even with us, 
 he still points to a higher and more refined state of 
 society than that which we now enjoy. And as the 
 
Q2 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 centuries roll on, so will the divine principles of his 
 enduring philosophy receive, year by year, a fuller 
 and more extended illustration ; and as they have 
 taught our fellows in the past, so in the time to come, 
 will generation after generation drink in the nectar 
 of their ambrosial truths, and banquet on the feast 
 of holy thoughts and gorgeous combinations which 
 have been so lavishly spread before them. The 
 clouds which gather round and make dim the record 
 of the past, roll away at his mystic touch, and the 
 history of the feudal ages becomes a living, breathing 
 reality the fanciful realm of the creatures that 
 
 " On the sand, with printless foot, 
 Do chase the ebbing Neptune," 
 
 is no longer a freak of the imagination, but by his wiz 
 ard s wand starts forth into a quick and active world. 
 The varying scenes of life s solemn drama are 
 peopled by veritable beings, who awaken our 
 sympathies, our love, our terror, or our hate, and 
 bind us into a fast communion with their thoughts, 
 their sufferings, and their deeds. We shudder with 
 Lear upon the gloomy heath : we are weary with 
 Touchstone among the groves of Arden ; v/e weep 
 with Romeo over his Juliet s tomb; we suffer 
 love" with Benedick ; and feel with the melancholy 
 Dane " how stale, flat and unprofitable are all the 
 uses of this world." 
 
 Shakespeare s creations are flesh and blood, real, 
 tangible, bodily men and women, and their words 
 
SHAKESPEARE. 93 
 
 are to us as the exalted thoughts of daily life, re 
 fined and elevated by contact with a superior con 
 dition of being. Nothing which involves the welfare 
 of the race is too grand for his consideration ; nothing 
 which the Creator has called into being is too insig 
 nificant for the studious contemplation of his mind. 
 The spirit of prophecy has more than once descended 
 upon him, and the completion of Puck s girdle round 
 about the earth was to him a thing of certainty. 
 In law, he is a lawyer; in statecraft, a statesman ; 
 in medicine, a wise physician ; in government, a 
 ruler; and in the wide and varied field of science, a 
 careful and acute observer. He is preeminently a 
 naturalist, in the broader sense of the term, not the 
 man of mere technical knowledge, of names and 
 terms, of dry classification, whose brain is filled with 
 genera and species, varieties and races, groups and 
 affinities, but one possessed of that faculty of obser 
 vation (given but to few) even of the meanest things 
 a power of discovering their varied uses, and point 
 ing out their rank and value in the great chain of 
 nature. The rocks and woods, the trees and flowers, 
 the rolling sea, the calm and tempest, the sunbeam 
 and the dew-drop, the tiny insect and the giants of 
 the animal world, are alike to him emblems of cre 
 ative power, and speak to his receptive soul in the 
 Divine language of his God. 
 
 It would be easy to point out very many of the 
 instances in which Shakespeare has so forcibly 
 shown his wonderful observation of the many 
 
 .;. 
 
94 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 phenomena of nature, of the winds and storms, of 
 the influence of the tides, of the strange mystery of 
 vegetable life, of the " sermons in stones " beneath 
 our feet, and of those wonderful instincts in the 
 lower order of creatures which tread so closely 
 on the heels of reason ; instances which, for clear 
 ness of expression, and conciseness of description, 
 have never been excelled. Who can ever forget 
 Miranda s picture of the tempest, or Lorenzo s 
 exquisite " patines of bright gold" ? while the syl 
 van scenes of " As You Like It" are redolent 
 of country perfume, and shed on the heart an 
 influence of calm and peace. The accuracy of 
 Shakespeare as an observer is proved by the fidelity 
 to the times of their appearance, with which Perdita 
 strings together her wildflowers at the sheep-shear 
 ing ; by the " ugly and venomous " toad, now by the 
 investigations of modern science discovered to emit 
 an acrid poison ; and by the fact that Huber, who 
 devoted his whole life to the subject, added but 
 little to our knowledge, and certainly left no more 
 perfect description of the habits of the honey-bee, 
 than that given by Shakespeare in " Henry the V ": 
 
 So work the bees : 
 Creatures that by a rule in nature teach 
 The act of order to a peopled kingdom. 
 They have a king, and officers of sorts ; 
 Where some, like magistrates, correct at home ; 
 Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad ; 
 Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings, 
 Make boot upon the summer s velvet buds ; 
 Which pillage they with merry march bring home, 
 
SHAKESPEARE. 95 
 
 To the tent-royal of their emperor ; 
 Who, busied in his majesty, surveys 
 The singing masons building roofs of gold, 
 The civil citizens kneading up the honey, 
 The poor mechanic porters crowding in 
 Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate ; 
 The sad-eyed justice with his drowsy hum, 
 Delivering o er to executors pale 
 The lazy, yawning drone " 
 
 His knowledge of law was vast and comprehen 
 sive ; and one of the most distinguished judges 
 of modern times, the late Lord Campbell, has 
 devoted a volume to an examination of Shake 
 speare s legal phraseology, the closeness with which 
 he has everywhere followed the technicalities of this 
 somewhat uninviting subject, being as wonderful 
 as it is admirable. His enunciation of the principles 
 of moral philosophy has furnished the groundwork 
 for many an elaborate address, and no essay on the 
 subject can be completed without a reference to 
 him, and a quotation from his writings. In politics, 
 in religion, in the minor duties of life, he stands 
 forward as a teacher and a text, and perhaps the 
 laws which should govern society have received a 
 fuller illustration from him than from all the writers 
 who have ever lived an illustration all the more 
 forcible, because, clothed in delightful imagery, it 
 takes deep root in men s souls, and by its own 
 inherent power, buds and blossoms into beauty. 
 
 Upon the art of which, apart from his literary 
 genius, he was a worthy and conscientious professor, 
 he has shed an undying lustre, and the drama and 
 
96 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 Shakespeare are now inseparable, linked together by 
 a chain which time can never destroy, and mutually 
 strengthened by the improving taste of mankind, 
 and by the mastery over ignorance, which belong to 
 the true, the beautiful, and the good. Much as may 
 be said about the decline of the drama, there is 
 not a night in the year on which, in some theatre 
 or other, a play of Shakespeare s is not performed ; 
 and the worthy way in which, assisted by the neces 
 sary and pleasing adjuncts of scenery and costume, 
 his works have of late years been presented, is in 
 itself sufficient evidence of his value as a teacher, 
 and of the desire on the part of the people to hon 
 or themselves by honoring him. 
 
 The magnificent mounting of many of Shakes 
 peare s dramas by the enterprise of Macready and 
 Kean, and still later by Mr. Calvert, has become a 
 matter of theatrical history in England, while in 
 your own country Edwin Booth, Lawrence Barrett, 
 and John McCullough have acquired the gayest 
 leaves of their managerial wreaths by the care 
 evinced by them in the production of these immor 
 tal creations. It is not too much to say that such 
 men are public benefactors they familiarize the 
 mind of the spectator with language of the most 
 exalted strain, and teach the history of almost for 
 gotten periods by an appeal to the intelligence 
 through the medium of scenic decoration. Decline 
 of the drama, forsooth ! As long as the English 
 language lasts, as long as Shakespeare exists to us, 
 
SHAKESPEARE. 97 
 
 the drama as an art can never decline, and the more 
 frequent production of his plays will educate a race 
 of actors, who will give a more lasting strength to 
 their noble profession, and tend more and more to 
 elevate it to its proper rank among the teachers of 
 our age. By the vast extent and variety of his sub 
 jects, the extreme familiarity with all topics on 
 which he has employed his pen, this " myriad- 
 minded man" stands forth to us as the world s 
 wonder; and it is not a matter of surprise that some 
 doubt should exist in the minds of many, as to his 
 sole authorship of the works ascribed to him, and 
 that many theories should have been set up as to 
 their origin. One of these theories will be elaborately 
 and ably presented to you to-night, and a talented 
 argument will be given to you for consideration, to 
 the effect that the dramas which we reverence so 
 much, were the work of Lord Bacon. Without 
 here expressing any opinion upon the subject, I 
 will only say, that " these opinions, if they prove 
 nothing more, prove the exaltation of the object ; 
 their contradictions are praise. For, as men differ 
 not about those things within their reach, but only 
 about those above it, " so is the nature of Shakes 
 peare s liquid inspiration above our reach, save so 
 far as its golden drops bubble over its chalice " to 
 quench the thirsty lips of the world." I know well 
 how difficult it is to say any thing new of our hon 
 ored poet. I know how in praising him, we are 
 liable to " gild refined gold ;" but in an hour like 
 
9 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 this, when, with that friendly communion which ex 
 ists among us, we meet, in that conviviality of soul 
 which he so much enjoyed, to lay our poor offerings 
 upon the altar of his memory, the homage, however 
 weak, must be paid ; the tribute, however unworthy, 
 must be rendered ; the worship, however imperfect, 
 must ascend to the roof-tree of his mighty temple. 
 According to the universal doom of our common 
 humanity, he has long passed away from earth, but 
 his influence is felt with increasing power day by 
 day, refining and softening all who come within its 
 sphere, by the light of its eternal radiance dissipa 
 ting the gloomy shadows of life, and casting upon 
 the pathway of many a weary wanderer a gleam of 
 glory which will light with cheerfulness and joy the 
 track of his onward steps. And 
 
 " If there be, as holy men have deemed 
 A land of souls beyond that sable shore," 
 
 surely it is not too much to believe that the beam 
 ing gentleness of his nature looks down upon our 
 festal hour, and clothes our night s enjoyment with 
 the unspeakable beauty of his smile. 
 
ADDRESS ON THE OCCASION OF THE REMOVAL OF 
 
 THE BOHEMIAN CLUB FROM SACRAMENTO 
 
 STREET TO PINE STREET, DECEMBER, 1876. 
 
 The time has come in which, as we lay aside, with 
 a feeling somewhat akin to regret, the old garment 
 that, for many an hour, has shielded us in sunshine 
 and in storm, we must bid adieu to these pleasant 
 rooms which have so long echoed to the sound of 
 merry laughter, to the swell of mysterious and 
 entrancing music, and to the utterance of the many 
 bright thoughts which have had their origin within 
 the compass of their walls. About every parting 
 common to this life of ours, there is some tinge of 
 regret, and surely we may be pardoned if, amid the 
 thoughts which throng upon us at the recollection 
 of all that enjoyment which we have partaken of 
 within this " small domain," a shade of sorrow 
 should steal for a moment over us, as we think that 
 this is the last time we shall ever gather in this 
 place a place hallowed by many delightful memo 
 ries, which will, long after we have quitted it, be 
 haunted in our minds by the spirits of all the good 
 things that have had their birth within its con 
 fines, and by the echoes of that innocent mirth 
 which, while giving zest and enjoyment to the hour, 
 has left no sting behind. Five years have not 
 
 99 
 
100 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 entirely rolled by since the foundation of this 
 Society, and it is not too much to say, that in those 
 five years the progress made by the Bohemian Club 
 is a fact in which its members may justly take an 
 honorable pride, for its success has been of such a 
 nature as to redound to the credit, not only of those 
 more immediately interested in its welfare, but to 
 the community among which it was formed, and to 
 the city which can boast of an organization at once 
 so powerful and so elevating in its character. The 
 existence of a true purpose in life, to the attainment 
 of which the strongest efforts of man s will are 
 directed, and whose goal is kept steadily before the 
 mental eye, is the surest incentive to worldly 
 advancement ; and the purpose of this Club, ever 
 held in view by those who have had the direction 
 of its affairs, has been one grand cause of its pros 
 perity to-day. That purpose is evidenced in the 
 many delightful evenings, like the present, which 
 we have passed together, in which many an original 
 contribution has been given to music and literature, 
 well deserving a wider field of recognition and 
 regard. Within another year, I trust that some of 
 the best of these will be presented in a permanent 
 form to the world, so that a visible record may be 
 offered, if any were needed, that all that passes here 
 is not " idle jest and useless laughter," but that our 
 " High Jinks" have been the means of inspiring 
 many a worthy thought and inculcating many a 
 useful lesson. Nor is it less a cause for congratula- 
 
ADDRESS. IOI 
 
 tion, that an utter want of selfishness has been 
 exhibited among us, and that what we have had to 
 give has been given without stint to strangers in 
 common with ourselves. Since our organization, 
 not less than one thousand invitations have been 
 issued to visitors from a distance and to residents of 
 the city, and we can at least claim the merit of dis 
 pensing what hospitality we have had to offer with 
 no niggardly hand. And it is but fair to add that that 
 feeling has been duly reciprocated, and that most of 
 the distinguished men and women who have visited 
 San Francisco during our Club existence have hon 
 ored these rooms with their presence and entered 
 warmly and with considerable interest into our 
 doings and our hopes. 
 
 Our absent members, too, are winning honors for 
 themselves, and at the same time spreading in far- 
 off lands the beneficial influences of our society. 
 Miller and Stoddard are crowning themselves with 
 literary honors ; Randolph Rogers is glorifying him 
 self and his beloved art by new triumphs ; and Wil 
 liamson is earning fame and fortune before a critical 
 London audience. Nor are our own resident artist 
 members to be overlooked, for among them are 
 many names of which any community may well be 
 proud, and their earnest devotion to the studies 
 they have chosen as their own, gives brilliancy to 
 the Association of which they are honored members, 
 and at the same time elevates the people among 
 whom they dwell. 
 
IO2 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 So that, in bursting from the chrysalis state of our 
 past existence, into the more brilliant one of that 
 which is to come, we leave behind us no regrets, but 
 go forward with courage and determination to what 
 seems a bright and pleasant future. I have said, 
 "We leave behind us no regrets"; but is that so? 
 And are no sad memories connected with the 
 hours we have passed here? Alas! alas! A spectre 
 sits at every feast, and the cloud and the sunshine 
 are always near each other ! At this moment come 
 crowding upon us recollections of many a comrade 
 who has gone down in the march of life, " whose 
 place is vacant by the hearth," and who has passed 
 onward in his journey 
 
 " To join 
 
 The innumerable caravan which moves 
 To that mysterious realm, where each shall take 
 His chamber in the silent halls of death." 
 
 The list is longer than we like to think, for four 
 teen of our companions have passed away from 
 earth ; and though the very names of some may be 
 unknown to many of you, there are a few who are 
 " familiar in your mouths as household words," and 
 of whom you daily speak with affection and regret, 
 The genial, eccentric, kind-hearted Johns, who left 
 behind him so bright a record of goodness and 
 honesty of heart, that all who knew him loved and 
 respected the strong sincerity of his character ; the 
 generous, indefatigable Ralston, whose loss to San 
 Francisco yet wrings the hearts of her people ; the 
 
ADDRESS. 103 
 
 grand, self-sacrificing " Caxton," whose genius was 
 only equalled by his tenderness of soul, and whose 
 recognition as a man of letters, though tardy, will 
 be none the less and secure lasting ; the cultivated 
 Ross Browne, who went down to his resting-place 
 in the prime of his manhood, carrying with him the 
 regrets of educated minds in every corner of the 
 earth in which the English language is spoken and 
 literature is honored as a teacher of humanity ; and 
 " under the sod and the dew " lies the gentle, 
 loving, woman-like heart of Owen Marlowe, whose 
 clinging nature found room for sympathy with every 
 creature with whom he came in contact : all these 
 have wandered with the grim ferryman over the 
 river, 
 
 " Into the land of the departed, 
 Into the silent land." 
 
 And there is another yet, known only to a very few 
 within the hearing of my voice, who, had he lived, 
 would have been one of the Club s brightest orna 
 ments, as he was one of the most amiable and un 
 selfish of men. I allude to Charles Duquesnay, for 
 a long time editor of the Courier de San Francisco, 
 who possessed talents of no common order, but who 
 was one of that large and unappreciated class 
 
 " Whom fortune frowns on, 
 Whom authority oft uses and forgets 
 But still their souls are the world s life-blood. 
 
 The men who think, 
 
 Whose weapon is the pen, whose realm the mind ; 
 I mean not laurelled bards, but daily workers, 
 
104 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 Who, like the electric force, unseen, pervade 
 The sphere they quicken, nameless till they die, 
 And leaving no memorial but a world 
 Made better by their lives." 
 
 All these, and others less prominent in their varied 
 walks of life, have gone forever from our earthly 
 gaze ; but they have left us happy in the recol 
 lections of their friendship, recollections of so sweet 
 a nature as to induce us to echo the simple prayer 
 of one of a great master s creations, a prayer uttered 
 at this same festive season : 
 
 11 Lord, keep my memory green." 
 
 I am far from desiring to cast a gloom over this 
 meeting, or to check the flow of merriment which 
 is to-night everywhere around us ; but something 
 has whispered to me that we owed a duty at this 
 hour to those dear associates who can be with us 
 bodily no more, and that it was my part of that duty 
 to pay this imperfect tribute to their memory. 
 
 And so, as the Romans of old bore with them, in 
 each change of dwelling, the Lares and Penates 
 which had guarded their hearth-stone, and had been 
 the unseen sentinels of their worldly welfare, let us, 
 as we fold down the page which contains the record 
 of our comrades lives, bear with us from this spot 
 the knowledge of all that was good in them, and re 
 member with gratitude an association which made 
 brighter the pathway of existence, and robbed our 
 daily labor of half its burden, by the knowledge that 
 there were bright and genial souls who shared 
 
ADDRESS. IO5 
 
 the weight of the load, and who, with the true 
 heroism which they manifested, "pointed the 
 moral " of our own individual lives. 
 
EDWIN ADAMS. 
 
 This admirable actor and warm-hearted man died in November, 
 1877, and at the next "High Jinks" of the Bohemian Club, of 
 which he was a member, the following was read, the subject chosen 
 for the evening s consideration being " DREAMS " ! 
 
 Dreams and Dreamland ! Magic words, fraught 
 with such sweet and tender mystery ! How potent 
 is the spell they weave around our lives ! How all- 
 absorbing is the power with which they hold us in 
 their grasp ! The many hours of weird uncertainty, 
 of lingering between this earth and that all but 
 impenetrable shadow of the world beyond, which 
 is their special realm, are, of our daily life, "a thing 
 apart " ; and as the soul returns to its material sur 
 roundings, how jarring sometimes is the shock, but 
 how gentle are the recollections of our wander 
 ings in that strange land of wild, unreal realities ! 
 The actions of those silent hours go with us 
 through the day, and give a color to the waking 
 world around us. 
 
 " I would recall a vision, which I dreamed 
 Perchance in sleep for in itself a thought, 
 A slumbering thought, is capable of years, 
 And curdles a long life into one hour." 
 
 The scene is a pleasant New England village, 
 fresh in the calm radiance of the setting sun. The 
 
 106 
 
EDWIN ADAMS. IO/ 
 
 trees are waving their last requiem to the fading 
 rays the birds are darting toward their downy 
 resting-places, and the busy hum of life, which a 
 few hours before was strong in its mighty activity, 
 dies into the softest murmur, heralding the ap 
 proach of a silence at once most solemn and pro 
 found. The time is one fitted for meditation, and 
 grateful to the thoughtful soul. Beneath the deep 
 ening shadows of those mighty oaks, there sits a 
 youth of less than fifteen summers. A sense of deep 
 and earnest thought is in his face, and away across the 
 distant waters his eye looks longingly and with a 
 flash of hope. No pampered child of wealth is he, 
 but one reared in the midst of life s hardest strug 
 gles ; yet is he fair to look upon, and in his bright 
 and speaking face, and noble brow, may be traced 
 the presence of an intellect above the common 
 range. His thoughts are deep and somewhat mourn 
 ful, but there is a light in his looks which tells of 
 energy and power, the power which crushes obsta 
 cles, and treads obstructions down. The dog which 
 crouches at his feet and gazes wistfully into his 
 companion s eyes, is now scarce noted by him; 
 but in the open book within his hand is seen the 
 subject of his reflection, for on the page I read 
 the words of the master : 
 
 " Our doubts are traitors, 
 And make us lose the good we oft might win 
 By fearing to attempt." 
 
 By the wizard hand of Fancy, the curtain which 
 
108 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 shrouded the future from his gaze has been partially 
 withdrawn, and a picture opened to his view, 
 which the fertile fancy of youth presents in fairy 
 hues. He longs to enter the confines of that seem 
 ingly celestial realm, and, in the eagerness of his 
 young life, he casts his doubts behind him, and, 
 with the resolution of an ardent soul, goes forth to 
 "do and dare." 
 
 The scene is changed ! 
 
 Beneath the flashing lights of a crowded assem 
 bly, with the eyes of the multitude directed toward 
 him, and the sympathies of his fellows drawn by 
 the magnetism of his own nature into closest com 
 munion with him, the boy is seen again. There is 
 no trembling, no hesitancy now ; fear has given 
 place to anxiety, but the hopeful, earnest spirit is 
 powerful over all ! His rich and sympathetic voice 
 sinks deep into the hearts of those around him, and 
 their unsparing plaudits assure him that his strug 
 gles will not be in vain, but that the charmed vision 
 which the day-dream of his earlier youth had fashion 
 ed for his gaze might yet be realized ; that the goal 
 which seemed to him so distant then, might yet be 
 his to win. 
 
 Again the scene is changed ! 
 
 That goal is won ! The crudities of boyhood 
 have been left behind, and the man stands forth 
 before his fellow-men, a teacher and a king! A 
 teacher for he utters the grandest thoughts of 
 grandest minds, with power which elevates while it 
 
EDWIN ADAMS. IOO, 
 
 entrances ; which charms and fascinates, while it 
 enforces lessons of the highest truth ! A king 
 for he rules the realm of imagination with a mon 
 arch s sway, and receives the homage of admiring 
 crowds ! Perhaps the poetic dreams of his past 
 have given place to stern realities ; perhaps he has 
 learned that the colors of the fairy picture fade by 
 near approach that the tinsel is not so bright as it 
 once appeared, but the closer communion with his 
 kind, which a larger experience has given, has 
 widened his heart and enlarged his sympathies, until 
 with a generous and loving soul he takes all man 
 kind into his embrace, and longs to shed the warmth 
 of his own glorious nature upon all around him. He 
 loves and is loved by all ; his hand is grasped in 
 cordial friendship by those to whom he comes, and 
 his path is made bright by the blessings of well- 
 earned affection. The garlands of an enduring fame 
 are placed upon his brow, and his step is lightened 
 by the knowledge that the appreciation which he 
 longed for and strove so hard to gain, has come to 
 him in the prime of his manhood. The future is 
 broad and bright before him, and he looks bold 
 ly into the coming years as fraught with promises 
 of grander triumphs and extended opportunities. 
 More for others than for himself he seems to live, 
 and the surroundings of his existence are but the 
 means of bringing joy to the saddened heart the 
 expression of a boundless generosity, which was at 
 once a giving and a praise ! 
 
IIO A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 Another transformation comes ! 
 
 The loved one is lying low ! The strong and 
 well-knit frame is wasted by disease, and the clear 
 and ringing voice is soft and feeble in its tone ! 
 The hand so often stretched to aid is all but power 
 less now, and the bright and flashing eye is grad 
 ually parting with its lustre ! 
 
 But the energy, the unyielding spirit of youth, 
 are there ; the cheerfulness of soul is still as strong 
 as ever, and the merry jest and kindly speech yet 
 ring with laughter from the tongue ! The sweet 
 and gentle love of woman is near to tend and soothe 
 the sufferer ; and men, with hearts made soft by 
 sympathy, look on, and wonder if their friend can 
 die! If love, and hope, and friendship s strongest 
 bonds could have driven the destroyer away, the 
 moment which all dreaded, but which all knew was 
 fast approaching, would have been long postponed, 
 for his departure from amongst us could but be 
 regarded as a loss the world can seldom feel, an 
 infliction which time can but rarely impose ! But 
 the finger of the angel had touched him, and gently 
 beckoned him away. Across the dark valley which 
 must one day be travelled by us all, he passed in 
 calmness and in peace, unconscious of the wail of 
 sorrow which announced the completion of his jour 
 ney ! The Godlike spirit of friendship made happy 
 his parting hours, and the loving one who tended his 
 sick couch with the courage of a martyr, has felt the 
 kindliness of heart which he inspired, a slight return 
 
ED WIN ADAMS. 1 1 1 
 
 only for the good he did for others, and for the many 
 noble deeds which had their spring in the fountains 
 of his own loving and tender nature. 
 
 Again a change appears ! 
 
 A casket strewn with flowers, sweet emblems of 
 affection and of hope, followed by a tearful crowd of 
 mourners, is slowly borne to an open grave. Cheer 
 ing words are said as the poor remains are lowered 
 to mingle with the dust of the ages as one more 
 mortal joins " the innumerable caravan" of the past. 
 But with the trustful eye of hope I behold our 
 friend still standing by our side, drying the tears of 
 the afflicted ones, and stilling the anguish of their 
 suffering souls. The same look of longing, earnest 
 thought which marked the boy in the far distant 
 past irradiates the face of the man, and the energy 
 by which it was then characterized tells, in tones 
 which cannot be mistaken, that the life which was 
 begun with so much promise and devotion HERE 
 will be rounded and completed THERE ! 
 
 And so the vision faded from my view ! But as 
 it passed I saw that the tear-drops which had fallen 
 had congealed to pearls of affection, and the flowers 
 had shaped themselves into garlands of memory 
 in the midst of which I read, in letters of shining 
 gold, the name of 
 
 EDWIN ADAMS ! 
 
JAMES HAMILTON, 
 ARTIST. 
 
 March 17, 1878. 
 
 Far from his home, far from those who were 
 nearest and dearest to him on earth, James Hamil 
 ton has passed away ! The sudden manner of his 
 taking off has brought with it a shock to those who 
 knew and loved him, and it is hard even now to 
 believe that he, whom, only a week ago to-day, I saw 
 and conversed with, apparently in his usual health, 
 should have journeyed into that mysterious land 
 whose portals are opened only by the ringer of 
 Death ! The men who, by the power of their 
 genius, dignify and elevate their race, and who 
 become in the best sense its teachers, belong spe 
 cially to no country, but by the magic power of 
 their minds take all humanity into their embrace, 
 and join all nations in one universal brotherhood ! 
 Such men, therefore, are benefactors unknown to 
 themselves ; they scatter blessings unwittingly along 
 their pathway, and are entitled to the gratitude of 
 the ages ! The death of a great artist is a loss to 
 the world, and the man whose remains lie cold and 
 still before us, was no common man. His genius 
 has made its impress upon the art-history of his 
 
 112 
 
JAMES HAMIL TON. 1 1 3 
 
 adopted country, and when we, who now assemble 
 to pay a last tribute of respect to his memory, shall 
 have passed from earth, the name of James Hamil 
 ton will live enshrined in the radiance of an almost 
 imperishable fame, and his works be treasured 
 among the greatest triumphs of the painter s skill. 
 His "Capture of the Serapis," and "Burning of Le 
 Bon Homme Richard," are historical records of which 
 America may be justly proud, and upon these alone 
 the fame of our departed friend may well be per 
 mitted to repose. Little is known, even by his most 
 intimate friends, of Hamilton s early life ; but though 
 Great Britain claims the honor of his birth, it was in 
 America that his talent as an artist was fostered and 
 found that appreciation which is so dear to persist 
 ent and struggling labor. For over thirty years of 
 his life he resided in Philadelphia, and, as you know, 
 nearly three years since he wandered to these West 
 ern shores, on which his career has come to this so 
 sudden and unlooked-for end. It will be fresh in 
 your remembrance that when his " Chase of the 
 Smuggler" was first exhibited in San Francisco, the 
 lovers of art discovered that a great power had come 
 among us, and that by his advent the community 
 had been enriched by the accession of a master 
 mind. In this city some of his finest works have 
 found their proper position, and San Francisco may 
 well be proud of the homage it has rendered to a 
 genius so striking and so powerful as his. Had he 
 been spared, it is probable, from the indication s of his 
 
114 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 later work, that even grander results than we have 
 yet known would have been given to the world, but 
 they are not needed to insure his fame. Nor was 
 his ability confined to his profession. Repossessed 
 a vast fund of varied information, and in his brighter 
 moments was a companion whose brilliancy of con 
 versation won all hearts to him, and can never be 
 forgotten by those who were admitted to an inti 
 macy with him. He numbered among his friends 
 most of the celebrated men and women of his time ; 
 and the late Charles Dickens, Dr. Kane, the Arctic 
 explorer, and Charlotte Cushman always regarded 
 him with the warmest feelings of affection. But he 
 is gone. The skilful hand is cold in death, and the 
 eyes which delighted in the changing aspects of 
 nature will behold them for us no more ! 
 
 It would be well if we could take leave of him as 
 an artist alone, without a thought of the imperfec 
 tions of the man. But who of us shall judge him ? 
 Beneath the surface of his nature there welled up a 
 spring of tenderness and love for all with whom he 
 came in contact ; and his kind and generous friend, 
 " Grace Greenwood," who, while she knew and prized 
 his genius, knew also the weakness which was his 
 besetting sin, spoke of him to me as a child who 
 needed a stronger will than his own to guide him 
 aright and place him above the temptation he found 
 so hard to withstand. The one stumbling-block of 
 his life has destroyed many a son of genius, but it 
 may be, that in the existence to which he has gone 
 
JA ME S HA MIL TON. 1 1 5 
 
 he will see more clearly the imperfections of his 
 career, and be enabled to help some poor, suffering 
 brother contending with the enemy which van 
 quished him. 
 
 So let him rest. If we can " point a moral" from 
 the failings of his life, it is well for us to do so, but 
 let us draw the kindly veil of charity over his foibles, 
 and remember only the better nature which was so 
 large a portion of the man before us. While we 
 twine the garlands of memory above his grave, let 
 the sweetness of the flowers bear with them the 
 knowledge only of their beauty and freshness, and 
 teach us to think but of those qualities in the char 
 acter of our friend which, like them, were lessons of 
 loveliness and goodness, foreshadowing a purity 
 above the grossness of earth, the links which unite 
 us to the Divine ! 
 
JOSEPH MAGUIRE. 
 
 March 25, 1878. 
 
 There are occasions in which silence is more 
 eloquent than words, in which the memories of the 
 past crowd so closely upon our thoughts that we 
 can hardly realize the passage of the present, and 
 find ourselves shrouded, as it were, in an atmos 
 phere of all-enfolding sorrow. As we stand in that 
 silent, unspeakable grief, beside the cold remains of 
 those we love, and know that the final earthly leave- 
 taking has come for us and them, we seek to blot 
 from our minds whatever harsh or ungentle memo 
 ries might chance to linger there, like shadows on 
 the sunlight of our life, and to gather up only the 
 tender treasures left to us by the affection of the de 
 parted. In the solemn event which has now called 
 us together, we have none of these ungentle memo 
 ries to put away, no harsh recollections to stifle, as 
 we bid farewell to the loved one lying there. Those 
 who knew him need no feeble words of mine to tell 
 how free he was from every act and thought which 
 could tend to weaken the warm attachment which 
 he inspired among his associates, an attachment 
 which can find no expression in language ; so strong 
 and single-hearted was it, that it made us thank 
 God for life, for it proved to us that there was much 
 
 116 
 
JOSEPH MAGUIRE. 
 
 that was good in man. No, the sorrowing hearts 
 that now gather with tearful eyes and breasts throb 
 bing with the divinest sympathy of affection around 
 the bier of " poor Joe," can need no recital of his 
 worth, no reminder of his kindly, gentle soul. To 
 them he can never die, for the sweet influence of 
 his life will be to them always an abiding reality, 
 a resting-place for their heart s constant and un 
 changing love. 
 
 That love will last as pure and whole 
 
 As when he loved us here in time, 
 
 And at the spiritual prime, 
 Rewaken with the dawning soul. 
 
 But those to whom he was comparatively a 
 stranger, who knew him only at a distance, and who 
 were not permitted a glimpse into the real nature of 
 1 the man, can hardly realize how noble, how true he 
 was, how utterly free from the petty weaknesses 
 which go to make up a large portion of the character 
 of most of us, and how large and universal was his 
 sympathy with every suffering with which he came 
 in contact. Through long years of the closest inti 
 macy, those who were nearest to him can recall no 
 single unkind thought, no harsh word against 
 another, no uncharitable act to dim the brightness 
 of his generous and unselfish life. Far from rich in 
 the possession of the world s goods, he gave liber 
 ally of what he earned to those who needed it, and 
 away in his far-off birthplace beyond the sea, an 
 aged mother, who now sits in the tribulation of 
 
Il8 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 mourning for her beloved and affectionate son, 
 whose care she was, and in whose behalf the 
 struggles of his life were made, will miss the gen 
 erous hand which ministered to her wants, and com 
 forted the fading hours of her pilgrimage. But it 
 may be her happiness and consolation to know that 
 she has had the honor of giving to the world one of 
 God s own noblemen, an honest, truthful, and large- 
 hearted man. And let us hope, that the sorrowing 
 affection which bursts from the hearts of this assem 
 bly may be wafted across the waters to her lonely 
 dwelling, and, in some sense, serve to still the 
 anguish of her suffering soul. 
 
 It is little more than a week ago that many of us 
 who meet here to-day were gathered around the 
 coffin of a son of genius, who had been summoned 
 somewhat suddenly to his "long home." 1 As is 
 usual on such occasions, some fitting words were 
 said, some sweet music sung, and the voice of our 
 friend was heard in those gentle strains. How little 
 did we, who listened to its tones of beauty, dream 
 that it would be for the last time ! But alas ! it was 
 so decreed. On the evening of that day he went to 
 his bed, from which he never rose. Happily, he 
 suffered but little, if at all, and his death was as we 
 would have such a death to be. But a short time 
 before the close, he burst into a strain of melody 
 such as thrilled the souls of those who heard it, 
 
 1 James Hamilton, the artist, at whose funeral services Mr. Maguire 
 sang one of the hymns. This was the last occasion on which his 
 friends were privileged to meet him in life. 
 
JO SEPH MA G UIRE. 1 1 9 
 
 and can never be forgotten by them. As the spirit 
 parted from its frail tenement the voice grew weaker 
 and weaker, until it faded into silence, and the har 
 monies of earth were caught up and reechoed by the 
 angel band which waited on the other side. And 
 so our friend and brother passed away. Pure and 
 noble in his life, beautiful and holy in his death, he 
 journeyed over the mysterious river, borne in the 
 arms of sweet and sacred song. His parting from 
 us realizes to the full the touching lines of an old 
 poet : 
 
 " What is that, mother? The swan, my love ; 
 He is floating down to his native grove ; 
 Death darkens his eyes, and unplumes his wings, 
 Yet the sweetest song is the last he sings. 
 Live so, my son, that when death shall come, 
 Swan-like and sweet, it may waft thee home. " 
 
 We are here to-day to pay the last tribute to one 
 we loved so well. The sadness of our hearts is the 
 deepest and most striking evidence of the affection 
 we bore him, and the clasping hand, scarce accom 
 panied by a sound, with which we greet each other, 
 tells more eloquently than speech how bitter is our 
 sorrow ! We take our leave of him on earth, with 
 eyes so dim that we can scarce behold the outlines 
 of that once familiar face, and the " God bless him !" 
 which rises to our tongue, can find no utterance for 
 the sobs which choke our words. But he needs no 
 blessing from us. The Father hath already blessed 
 him in the bestowal of so sweet and sunny a nature 
 
120 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 as his, and in the wealth of love which he inspired. 
 It is we who are left who need that comfort, and 
 when we say "God bless us and help us to bear 
 the sorrow which has come across our way," let us 
 remember that, though parting is the lot of life, in 
 the rest which must come to all there will be 
 
 No more desperate endeavor, 
 No more desolating " never," 
 No more separation ever 
 
 Over there ! 
 
MID-SUMMER "HIGH JINKS," 
 
 CELEBRATED SATURDAY, JUNE 2Q, 1878, IN THE RED WOODS OF 
 MARIN CO., CAL. 
 
 INVITATION. 
 
 " If thou art worn, and hard beset 
 With sorrows that thou wouldst forget ; 
 If thou wouldst read a lesson that will keep 
 Thy heart from fainting, and thy soul from sleep, 
 Go to the woods and hills ! " 
 
 BOHEMIAN CLUB ROOMS, ) 
 
 June 6, 1878. 
 FRIEND AND BROTHER : 
 
 The crust in which the selfish struggle of our life too often enwraps 
 our better nature, and which, year by year, gathers more and more 
 closely around us, concealing by its gross shadow the light that is 
 within, needs sometimes a kindly touch for its removal ; and where 
 can we seek for such tender ministration, as at the hand of our 
 mother, Nature ? 
 
 The glorious old woods invite us with their freshness to shake off 
 our sorrow with the city s dust, and to enter their grand and solemn 
 cathedral, where the song of the birds and the ripple of the waters 
 shall make such music as will inspire and give hope to the sinking 
 soul ! Come, then, and make merry ; come, with every fibre strung 
 to its highest pitch, and with your heart prepared for enjoyment ; 
 come, and for a time scatter to the winds the cares of life, and bury 
 in the waters of oblivion every sorrow ! 
 
 Come, for the sake of him who pens these lines, who will soon be 
 divided from you by the width of the continent, and who longs to 
 carry with him from the land of his love a crowning recollection of 
 the many happy hours passed among " good friends and true." 
 
 HENRY EDWARDS, 
 
 Sire. 
 121 
 
122 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 ADDRESS. 
 
 After many weeks of pleasant suspense, the hour 
 we have looked forward to has arrived, and we meet 
 to-night to hold high festival among the towering 
 giants of these glorious woods. And where can a 
 more fitting hall be chosen, in which to pledge each 
 other in good fellowship, and to extend the kindly 
 greetings which help humanity upon its way? 
 Around and about us are the witnesses of the great 
 est boon that Heaven can give to man, the constant, 
 faithful evidences of that all-pervading beauty which 
 exists only in the rolling hills, with their ever- 
 changing verdure; the pure, the perfect trees ; and 
 beneath them their attendant spirits, the sweet and 
 lovely flowers. Amidst the groves, in which the al 
 tars of " God s first temples " sent up their incense 
 to the awaiting throne ; away from the clangor of 
 tongues, the restless rush of greed, and the ever-repel 
 ling influence of the city s throng, we come to cast off 
 the material elements of our being, to lift ourselves a 
 little higher in the plane of existence, and to taste for 
 a brief period of those delights which well up from 
 the fountain of happiness, whose springs the country 
 alone can supply. Here, in the depth of an almost 
 primeval forest, we feel at once the littleness and the 
 grandeur of our lives. By contrast with the whirl of 
 streets, and the crushing excitement by which most 
 of us are impelled, we are led, by the " peace and 
 holy rest " which here prevail, to pause and ask a 
 question of the better thought within : " Why do 
 
MID-SUMMER "HIGH JINKS." 123 
 
 we miss the bounties which are so lavishly displayed 
 around us, and which may be had but for the ask 
 ing? Why do we choose the rougher and more 
 dangerous path, when one of safety and of beauty 
 lies ever before our eyes?" The question can 
 receive but one reply. It is, that the love of wealth 
 has overgrown every true instinct of our being, and 
 that the search for riches is the only one in which 
 the eager, restless spirit of this so-called progressive 
 age finds its fitting exercise. And yet, could all 
 men be animated by the same love of relaxation and 
 enjoyment of Nature s beauties, the world would 
 move as steadily as before, and the needs of life be 
 equally well supplied. Can one of us for a moment 
 doubt that he is better for a closer contact like this 
 with all that is fresh and fair upon the earth s 
 surface, with the waving woods, the almost holy 
 flowers ; with the trickling dew-drop, and the rustling 
 wind ; with the clearer starlight, and the more 
 cloudless radiance of the sun ? No, there is no man 
 here, who after this slight embrace from the arms 
 of his divine mother, will not return to his daily 
 routine with a fresher heart and brain, and with a 
 tenderer and sweeter feeling for his fellows. I 
 sometimes reverence those men of old who, away 
 from the ever-restless crowd of cities, wandered in 
 silent solitude to the mountain s side or the forest s 
 depth, and shut themselves up to commune with 
 their own hearts and the irrepressible beauty which 
 was so liberally spread before them. Such a life may 
 
124 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 be in some sense narrow and contracted ; it may 
 not touch the highest aims of which our being is 
 capable, but it is surely as pure, as noble, and as 
 useful, as the constant battle for wealth, fought 
 upon the ignoble fields of selfishness and wrong. 
 The trouble of this age is that it is too feverish 
 too much given to the whirl and worry of life, and 
 too little inclined to rejoice in the blessings of a 
 holiday time ! 
 
 " Work, work, work, 
 Till the brain begins to swim." 
 
 seems to be the motto of the race to-day, and the 
 wearied spirit finds not the repose it needs until the 
 hour comes which casts over it the benison of an 
 eternal rest. What abject folly ! What utter want 
 of sense ! The cry of Nature echoes everywhere 
 through her numberless retreats : " Come, ye 
 hungry ones ; come and partake of the feast I 
 spread before you. Come, ye who are athirst, and 
 drink of the fountain of perpetual peace ! " And 
 the wayfarers turn a deaf ear, and pass along to 
 their early graves, wrapt in the mantle of selfishness 
 and greed of gain, allowing no ray of beauty from 
 the light above to penetrate the darkness of their 
 souls. Will it be for ever thus, and will men always 
 lose their way in the journey over the clearly 
 marked pathway of life ? I think not so. As year 
 by year rolls on, it seems to me as if content will be 
 more readily found ; as if the struggles for existence 
 will be less and less protracted ; as if the necessities 
 
MID-SUMMER "HIGH JINKS." 12$ 
 
 of life will be more readily within the reach of all, 
 and the glamour of gold be less and less attractive 
 to men s eyes ! A millenium like this is no poet s 
 dream ; it needs but the earnest thought and work 
 of earnest minds in every civilized land, and that 
 perseverance which, while it urges forward a good 
 deed, stimulates by its influence and its example. 
 The want of rest and healthy, hopeful, cheerful 
 enjoyment is the great want of the world to-day, and 
 perhaps in this country, more than in any other, is 
 this want apparent. It is the evil which is de 
 stroying the lives of the people, the cruel cancer 
 which is eating at their very vitals, wasting their 
 energies, and poisoning the life-blood of the race ! 
 The teacher who will boldly proclaim this truth, and 
 set before those who come within the scope of his 
 influence the foul and demoralizing effect of this 
 hideous wrong, will earn for himself not only a death 
 less fame, but the enduring gratitude of the ages. 
 
 In more than one sense it is " good for us to be 
 here." If we cannot claim for these solitudes the 
 fame of classic ground ; if we cannot people these 
 leafy glades with a Rosalind and a Touchstone; if 
 we can see not in our fancy the band which followed 
 the bold outlaw, Robin Hood, or hear Fitz-James s 
 bugle call, we yet can mark around us upon every 
 side the changes which have been wrought by the 
 mighty convulsions of the past, and in the spirit of 
 the glorious master, learn by contemplation to 
 
 " Find tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, 
 Sermons in stones, and good in every thing." 
 
126 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 To myself, this occasion is fraught with the deep 
 est interest, for I feel that it is the last on which I 
 may meet with many of you, at least under circum 
 stances like the present, and it seems to be one of 
 those special passages in life which mark a sudden 
 and abiding change, as the milestones which pro 
 claim the distances in life s journey appear to us the 
 more rapidly as we approach its close. Nearly six 
 years of delightful association are fast drawing to 
 an end, and the curtain is about to descend upon the 
 pleasant pictures of the past. I am thankful in my 
 own heart that my last remembrance of our many 
 happy gatherings will be connected with this lovely 
 spot, and with the beauty which is everywhere around 
 us. This experience is indeed a source to me of the 
 deepest gratification, and away in a distant home, in 
 the years that are to come, this scene will often re 
 cur to my memory, enshrined in the all-enfolding 
 charm which belongs to the vanished hours. I 
 must, however, own, that in the midst of the merri 
 ment which I trust is in your hearts there is a tone 
 of sweet sadness in mine, for the severance of ties 
 which have bound me so closely to you all cannot 
 but bring with it a sensation of sorrow, and the 
 wrench which tears me from the association which I 
 have so long been privileged to enjoy, bears its own 
 sense of pain. I cannot but remember, also, that 
 since we first met together and founded the insti 
 tution which has in so short a time become one of 
 the influential societies of our young State, many 
 
MID-SUMMER "HIGH JINKS." 12 / 
 
 of our comrades have gone down in the battle of 
 life, leaving their places unoccupied, and only the 
 recollection of their loving hearts to comfort and 
 console. As those who have laid down their burdens 
 and gone " to their long home " pass in shadowy re 
 view before me you see with me the ranks as they 
 wander by, and hear the murmur of their unspoken 
 voices " blessings and peace to all." There is no 
 need to breathe their names they will dwell in 
 your minds for aye, for they were linked to you by 
 bonds which even the bolt of the destroyer had not 
 power to shatter. Nor do I deem it idle to believe 
 that they linger near us to-night full of the enjoy 
 ment which this assemblage brings laughing when 
 we laugh, saddening when we are sad. Oh, no ! for 
 as we cast ourselves, as we do to-night, away from 
 the grinding cares of life, and with the tender love 
 of children approach the bosom of our universal 
 mother, we bring nearer and ever nearer to us the 
 life which is beyond, and moving within the sphere 
 of a higher influence, summon about us the love, the 
 watchfulness, and the deathless affection which have 
 " gone before." 
 
TRIFLES LIGHT AS AIR." 
 
 " A snapper-up of unconsidered trifles." 
 
 A Winters Tale. 
 
 129 
 
TWO BALLOON VOYAGES. 
 
 IN the year 1858, the well-known Australian man 
 ager, Mr. George Coppin, among the many other 
 attractions which he introduced for the amusement 
 of the good people of " the colonies," imported 
 two large balloons, with their attendants, Messrs. 
 Dean and Brown, two experienced aeronauts, and 
 after some rather unsuccessful attempts in Mel 
 bourne, sent them on to try their fortune in Sydney, 
 in which city I was then residing. A considerable 
 sum of money had been expended upon the specu 
 lation, and at one time it appeared as if a very heavy 
 loss would be entailed. So that being well known 
 in the New South Wales capital, and prompted by 
 the belief that the confidence which had been some 
 what impaired by the comparative failure of the 
 enterprise, might be restored if a satisfactory ascent 
 could be made, the incidents of which could be 
 vouched for by some one outside those more im 
 mediately concerned, I voluntered to accompany the 
 aeronauts upon their first voyage. Accordingly, on 
 the iQth of December, the process of inflation took 
 place in the lovely domain of Sydney, and the ar 
 rangements for our trip were completed. An im- 
 
 131 
 
132 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 mense concourse of spectators was present, but the 
 provisions for keeping the crowd from the immedi 
 ate vicinity of the balloon were far from complete, 
 and during the swaying of the huge globe, (the 
 result of a high wind blowing at the time,) a large 
 rent was caused in the silk by a looker-on holding 
 up his umbrella to shield himself, as the vast mass 
 turned toward the spot on which he was standing. 
 This allowed the gas to escape, and it was, for a 
 time, feared that the ascent would have to be aban 
 doned, but the rent was soon partially repaired, and 
 more gas being pressed into the balloon, the aero 
 naut, Mr. Brown, entered the car, I followed ; we 
 were set free, and shot up suddenly to a height of 
 about two hundred feet. But the motive power was 
 insufficient to carry us out of the lower stratum of 
 air, and although the ballast was thrown out almost 
 to the emptying of the car, we could not rise, but 
 were carried rapidly by the wind in the direction of 
 the city. In our course we struck against the pin 
 nacle of a church near at hand, and for a few seconds, 
 (for all this occurred in the space of less than a 
 minute), it seemed as if our time had come. Brown 
 called out to me, " Throw every thing overboard." I 
 obeyed his instructions by pitching out first our lunch, 
 basket and its contents, and then (from what im 
 pulse I know not) my coat, overcoat, waistcoat, and 
 hat. A large crowd had followed our course, talk 
 ing and shouting most vociferously, and increasing 
 the excitement by their half-frantic gestures and 
 
TWO BALLOON VOYAGES, 133 
 
 tumultuous cries. Among this wild human mass 
 my garments fell, and it should be recorded to the 
 credit of the populace of Sydney that they were all 
 honestly cared for, and with my gold watch which 
 was in the pocket of my vest, restored to me "safe 
 and sound." The balloon being entirely out of con 
 trol, was dashed hither and thither, striking against 
 chimney tops and other projections, rendering it 
 very difficult for us, even by clinging to the rope, to 
 maintain our position in the car, until in crossing 
 Macquarie Street, a little above the elevation of the 
 tallest houses, the grapnel, which had been thrown 
 out in the chance of fastening somewhere, caught in 
 a window-sill, the ropes we sent over the sides were 
 seized by willing hands, and we descended in safety. 
 We had been, as we afterward learned, only seven 
 minutes in the air, but those seven minutes seemed 
 like a lifetime, and on stepping once more upon terra 
 firma, I realized the possibility of the hair turning 
 suddenly white as the effect of an extreme mental 
 strain. Warm hearts and kindly words, however, 
 speedily dispelled our terror, and we were soon once 
 more amongst our friends. 
 
 So ended my first balloon voyage ; and looking 
 back upon the incident over a lapse of years, I ap 
 preciate our wonderful escape, and am thankful 
 that the adventure, though it could but be regarded 
 as a failure of the end in view, had not a termina 
 tion more painfully terrible. The object of the voy 
 age, however, was yet unaccomplished, and another 
 
134 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 ascent was quietly proposed, of which no notice was 
 to be given. With something of the foolhardiness 
 which belongs to the early days of life, I deter 
 mined again to try to " win my spurs," and in oppo 
 sition to the wishes of my friends, " resolved to do 
 or die." On the 3Oth of the month the balloon was 
 conveyed to a secluded part of the Government 
 Gardens, and there, by the permission of Sir Wm. 
 Denison, then Governor of New South Wales, it 
 was once more prepared for its lofty flight. The 
 day was such as is only to be found in this lovely 
 climate, clear, bright, and balmy, and at about a 
 quarter-past twelve, accompanied on this occasion 
 by Mr. Dean, I entered the car, the cords which 
 held us to the earth were loosened, and amid the 
 shouts of the excited bystanders, we rose slowly 
 and steadily into the blue, until we attained the 
 height of about half a mile. Here our speed was 
 greatly and suddenly increased by coming in con 
 tact with the upper portion of the current of air 
 by which we were carried on our course. In a 
 few minutes we found ourselves immediately over 
 the prison at Cockatoo Island, about two miles in a 
 straight line from the place of our start, and here all 
 motion seemed to cease, and for upwards of a quar 
 ter of an hour we were almost stationary. After 
 hearing from my companion that we were all right, 
 and exchanging with him a hearty shake of the 
 hand, I leaned over the side of the car, and gazed, 
 not without a feeling of awe and wonder, upon the 
 
TWO BALLOON VOYAGES. 135 
 
 scene around and beneath me. Pen and tongue 
 utterly fail to do justice to the sublime spectacle. 
 Long as I had been impressed with the beauty of 
 Sydney, and more especially of the harbor of Port 
 Jackson, I found that until then I knew nothing of 
 the magnificence of this queen of the Southern 
 Hemisphere. The city itself, with its many little 
 points running out into the bay, each one dotted 
 with buildings, looked like a miniature Sebastopol, 
 and though its streets for us no longer bore the signs 
 of their usual stir and bustle; though the forms of 
 those whose eager eyes had watched us from beneath 
 had faded from our view, and the cabs and other 
 vehicles which give so much animation to a city, 
 wore the aspect of flies of different orders and 
 genera, the hum of thousand voices and thousand 
 sounds fell softly upon the ear, and told us that we 
 were yet within the region of our fellow-men. Ris 
 ing, however, more and more rapidly, until we at 
 tained our greatest altitude, that of about two 
 miles, those sounds gradually ceased, and the most 
 death-like and solemn silence prevailed. So pro 
 found indeed was it, and so rarefied the condition of 
 the atmosphere, that the pulsation of my own heart 
 could be distinctly heard; the opening and shutting 
 of the valve sounded like a pistol-shot; and the flirt 
 ing of the balloon like the flapping of a ship s sail 
 in a gale of wind. 
 
 " Far, far below the chariot s path, 
 Calm as a slumbering babe, 
 Tremendous Ocean lay, 
 
136 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 while immediately beneath our track were spread, 
 like a net-work, the countless creeks, inlets, and bays 
 of the beautiful harbor, and far off in the northern 
 distance we could discern the waters of the Hawkes- 
 bury, in their junction with Broken Bay. To the 
 eastward the North and South heads appeared like 
 small projecting fragments of rock, and the " waste 
 of waters " beyond seem to mingle with and lose it 
 self in the clouds. Shark, Clark, and Garden islands 
 were but little patches smaller than one s hand, and 
 the many sandy beaches of the bay like strips of the 
 whitest calico. The vessels at anchor were many of 
 them soon lost to view, and when I last saw her, the 
 " European " steamship looked no larger than the 
 plaything of a child. The almost interminable for 
 ests of gum-trees trending toward the north of Mid 
 dle Harbor, the stretch of orchards of oranges and 
 vines with which the country toward Paramatta is 
 studded, dotted here and there with pretty cottages, 
 rising up among them like daisies upon a green 
 sward, the magnificent reach of undulating land to 
 the base of the Blue Mountains, the grand sight of 
 the cliffs toward Botany, and of that bay itself, all 
 this must be left to the imagination of those less 
 fortunate than myself, as any attempt at description 
 must utterly fail. 
 
 We experienced several trifling changes of cur 
 rent, and at one time our course was directed toward 
 Broken Bay a fact which excited in my mind my 
 only uncomfortable feeling, as nothing seemed to 
 
TWO BALLOON VOYAGES. 137 
 
 await us, but the chance of a descent in an almost 
 uninhabited district, and a prospect of lodging be 
 neath the trunk of an ancestral gum-tree. I was all 
 the more anxious, as it was a part of my duty to 
 support Mr. G.V.Brooke in " Love s Sacrifice" the 
 same evening at the Prince of Wales Theatre, and 
 an early return to Sydney was among my calcula 
 tions when I started upon the trip. After reaching 
 the greatest elevation (before alluded to as that of 
 about two miles), we had gradually descended until 
 the various objects on earth could be clearly dis 
 tinguished, and in the direction in which we were 
 carried by the wind, we could discern some open 
 patches of land in the neighborhood of Paramatta, 
 in one of which we hoped to make our landing. 
 The grapnel was thrown over, the ropes loosened, 
 the valve opened to allow the escape of the gas, and 
 in a few minutes we descended in an orchard at 
 Kissing Point, near the banks of the Paramatta 
 River. The car struck the ground with considerable 
 force, rebounded, struck again, and the second time 
 the grapnel caught in the branches of an apple tree, 
 and with a few trifling bruises, and some damage to 
 our clothes, we were enabled to alight. The huge 
 machine was emptied of its contents, folded, and 
 placed in the car, and by the kindness of the many 
 people who had assembled to our assistance, it was 
 conveyed to the river s bank, and placed on board 
 one of the steamers plying between Sydney and 
 Paramatta. We reached the city about seven 
 
138 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 o clock, and before eight, I was dressed for " Eugene 
 de Lorme," and was recounting to a generous and 
 partial audience in the greenroom, my adventures 
 of the day. We had travelled about nine and a half 
 miles in a base line, nearly twenty-two, allowing for 
 the variations in our course, and were in the air a 
 little over fifty minutes. There is no sensation of a 
 disagreeable nature in ascending in a balloon, as the 
 occupant of the car appears to be perfectly station 
 ary, and the earth and all upon it seem to be sink 
 ing away from him. The temperature was purer 
 and more exhilarating than any I ever before en 
 joyed ; all sense of fear was lost in the contempla 
 tion of the majesty around me ; and beyond a pain 
 in the ears, which seized me at our greatest altitude, 
 and which lasted but for a few minutes, I did not 
 experience the slightest feeling of annoyance. 
 
THE CHURCH AND THE STAGE. 
 
 A LETTER ADDRESSED TO THE REV D JOS. BEASLEY, OF 
 
 SYDNEY, N. S. WALES, IN REPLY TO A SERMON 
 
 ATTACKING THE DRAMATIC PROFESSION, 
 
 DELIVERED JULY 25, 1859. 
 
 REVEREND SIR: You last night delivered a lec 
 ture at Temperance Hall, on the subject of " Popular 
 Amusements," in the course of which you took 
 occasion to declaim against theatrical representa 
 tions, as being dangerous to public morals and 
 inimical to the best interests of society. Of course 
 you are entitled to your own individual opinion 
 upon such a matter as this ; and however narrow- 
 minded I, as an actor, may think that opinion, I should 
 not thus publicly have ventured to address you, 
 had you been a little more cautious in other of your 
 remarks upon that profession to which I have the 
 honor to belong. But, sir, you have not only uttered 
 bigoted views with regard to what has always, even 
 in the more remote ages of the world, been the most 
 popular means of conveying amusement, blended 
 with instruction of a lofty and refined character ; 
 but by saying that " the performers of stage plays 
 were frequently of doubtful virtue/ you have 
 
 139 
 
A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 cast a slur upon the character of a body of persons 
 whose reputations are as valuable as your own, and 
 offered a gratuitous insult to a large and influential 
 class, who, from the very nature of their profession 
 (engrossing as it does so much time and attention), 
 are never anxious to be drawn into prominence in 
 other ways than in the exercise of their legitimate 
 calling. 
 
 There has been of late existing in this city a strong 
 feeling on the part of ministers of various religious 
 denominations against the theatrical profession, and 
 I have been told that these self-styled Christians 
 have frequently denounced from their pulpits, the 
 stage, its followers and its supporters. These dis 
 plays of priestly eloquence and priestly charity, 
 have been passed over, partly from a desire on the 
 part of the dramatic profession generally to abstain 
 from discusssion on a subject so nearly affecting 
 themselves, and partly from the fact that it has 
 been difficult to found any controversy upon words 
 uttered " viva voce," as they may by chance be 
 wrongly quoted, or subjected to a false interpreta 
 tion. 
 
 But, sir, your address of last night is now public 
 property, and I claim the right to express my views 
 upon the sentiments it contains. Your objections 
 to the theatres are : " The number of public houses 
 and houses of ill-fame which spring up in the neigh 
 borhood of theatres ; of the performers being fre 
 quently of doubtful virtue ; of the lighter portion of 
 
THE CHURCH AND THE STAGE. l^\ 
 
 the community, those who felt the importance of 
 divine things the least, being the principal support 
 ers of the theatre." On the strength of these asser 
 tions, you arrive at the conclusion that theatrical rep 
 resentations are wrong, and hurtful in their ten 
 dency. I shall ask your patience while I consider 
 these objections in the light in which they appear 
 to me. 
 
 And first, I must observe that you have no founda 
 tion on which to build your statement that houses 
 of ill-fame spring up in the neighborhood of theatres. 
 There are at this moment two theatres open in 
 Sydney, both of them, as regards their external ap 
 pearance, creditable buildings. They are situated 
 in two of the principal streets of the city, and I 
 challenge you to point out any of the houses of the 
 character to which you allude, in their vicinity. 
 That public-houses spring up near theatres is true, 
 but does not the same thing occur near our police- 
 courts, our markets, our custom-houses, our wharves, 
 and all other places in which large concourses of 
 people are daily gathered ? And even admitting 
 such to be the case, what has this to do with theatri 
 cal entertainments, except as a secondary conse 
 quence ? The houses used as taverns are licensed 
 by the Government, and are under the continued 
 surveillance of the police, and the evils of such (if 
 any exist) are not arising out of the establishment 
 of the theatres, but from a proper want of attention 
 on the part of the authorities. Surely, sir, you will 
 
I4 2 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 admit that around all institutions which are under 
 the control of erring humanity, some symptoms of 
 the imperfections of our nature must arise, and I 
 think you will scarcely deny that even the free and 
 elevating teachings of Christianity itself are somewhat 
 altered from the form and spirit in which they ex 
 isted in the mind of their Divine Author; and I 
 boldly contend that the evils which spring up in 
 directly from large numbers of persons being brought 
 together in theatres are no more chargeable to the 
 dramatic art itself, than are the corrupt doings of 
 some who " call themselves Christians " to be laid 
 at the door of the faith enunciated by Him who said: 
 " Thou hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of thine 
 own eye, then thou shalt see clearly to cast out the 
 mote out of thy brother s eye ! " 
 
 Your second objection is one of a more personal 
 character; and I can but say, is strongly at variance 
 with the statement at the commencement of your 
 lecture, to the effect that you were about to treat the 
 subject before you as a man, an Englishman, and 
 a gentleman. Let me ask you, " Are you personally 
 acquainted with any members of my profession ? " I 
 I assume you are not, and if you are not, it is, at the 
 least, unmanly to say any thing against them on mere 
 hearsay, and if unmanly, it is un-English and ungen- 
 tlemanly too. If you are known to any of the 
 followers of "the mimic art," you cannot think 
 them, if you judge aright, worse than others of their 
 species, and I shall not be charged by many who 
 
THE CHURCH AND THE STAGE. 143 
 
 know them best, with exaggeration, when I say, 
 that as a distinct class there are few so thoroughly 
 free from the vices which commonly beset society. 
 I am not aware, sir, whether you are cognizant of 
 the fact, but to the best of my belief there is no 
 record in the Statute-Book of any one member of 
 the theatrical profession ever having been convicted 
 of a capital offence, and the statistics of crime, both 
 in the mother-country and here, will incontestably 
 prove, that large as are their numbers, actors and 
 actresses are very rarely charged, much less con 
 victed of any offence against the laws of their coun 
 try. Can you say as much for your own class? 
 No, you cannot. I would wish to avoid as much as 
 possible all personalities, but you have commenced 
 them ; and " people who live in glass houses," you 
 know the rest. I venture to assert that for one 
 member of my profession who has during any given 
 time, say the last half century, figured in our courts 
 of justice, there have been at least six or seven of 
 your own calling. This is a bold statement, sir, 
 but it can be established by proof. 
 
 You may have heard for I question much if you 
 can speak of us by your own knowledge, you " may 
 have heard," I say, that actors have been, at times, 
 too much given to habits of inebriety; and that act 
 resses have been known to desert their husbands and 
 form other connections, or, perhaps, that they have 
 chosen, from motives best known to themselves, to en 
 ter virtually upon the state of married life without re- 
 
144 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 garding the forms imposed upon that state by the laws 
 of our existing society. You may have heard all this, 
 and it may be true. But have you ever given your 
 self the trouble to think, that as public men and 
 women who are constantly before the gaze of thou 
 sands, their actions are easily made patent to the 
 world, and that the faults to be laid to their charge 
 are not only liable to great exaggeration, but that, 
 if they were committed by other classes of people, 
 the knowledge of them would be confined to a few, 
 and society at large would be quite ignorant of them ? 
 This is a point of view from which I think you 
 should regard the question of the " doubtful virtue" 
 of stage performers. I say again and again and I 
 challenge contradiction of the assertion that actors 
 and actresses generally are more free from the vices 
 which beset and degrade humanity than any 
 other class of the same numbers and importance in 
 the social scale. I do not wish it to be understood 
 that I think them free from faults, and that they 
 have no errors to be laid to their charge ; but I do 
 say, that from the very nature of their profession, 
 they are so compelled to cultivate the habit of con 
 centrating all their mental force upon one given 
 subject, so inevitably bound to nurse and foster the 
 gift of memory, and so much occupied with regard 
 to their time in the study of their art, that by the 
 constant exercise of the higher faculties of the 
 mind which are brought into continuous and 
 harmonious action by such study, the lower qualities 
 
THE CHURCH AND THE STAGE. 145 
 
 of their nature are kept in abeyance, and are not 
 suffered to put forth their baneful fruits, which, 
 under evil influences, too frequently appear to con 
 taminate and poison society. "Doubtful virtue," 
 forsooth ! I am half inclined to laugh at a phrase 
 which bears so plainly on its surface the marks of 
 bigotry, intolerance, and ignorance. But the conse 
 quence of such statements as those which you have 
 made cannot be so lightly passed over. I know that 
 error must eventually give way before the light of 
 truth, and that sentiments like those which you have 
 enunciated must soon be lost in the great vortex of 
 civilization ; but I feel, and I feel warmly, for hun 
 dreds of honest, upright, noble-hearted men and 
 still more for many gentle, excellent, accomplished 
 women, who can but experience the pangs which 
 must naturally arise from the outrage offered to their 
 feelings by statements like your own, and placing 
 myself thus prominently forward to do battle for the 
 wrongs which have been so wantonly heaped upon 
 the class to which I belong, I am actuated solely 
 by a love of truth, and a conscientious desire to do 
 justice to those to whom, by the intolerance of many 
 persons of confined and sectarian views, it has been 
 ruthlessly and uncharitably denied. I ask you, sir, 
 as a Christian minister, to reconsider what you have 
 said, and what has gone before the world, and when 
 you are again about to put forth your views with 
 regard to the character and conduct of your fellow- 
 mortals, to pause for a moment and reflect upon the 
 
146 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 saying of Him, whose faith you profess to teach 
 whose rules of life you profess to follow, " Let him 
 that is without sin cast the first stone." 
 
 With regard to your third objection, viz.: "That 
 theatres are principally supported by those who feel 
 the importance of divine things the least," I shall say 
 but little. Perhaps you and I may differ in our views 
 as to what may be the proper manner in which the 
 importance of divine things may be felt ; but it cer 
 tainly appears to me that the amusement which has 
 for ages secured the approbation of the great and good 
 of every country and people, has not been permitted 
 by the Great Author of divine things himself to exist 
 so long as it has done, and the love for such amuse 
 ments to be regarded as a natural craving of the human 
 heart, without exerting some beneficial tendency ; 
 and when, not to wander from home, I see the great 
 mass of visitors to theatrical representations in Syd 
 ney, composed of the most respectable and influential 
 inhabitants of the city, I humbly confess 1 am glad 
 to have my views in the matter endorsed by so 
 many respectable persons, and am content to follow 
 in their wake as to the importance of " divine things." 
 
 In your lecture you stated that you had never 
 until last week attended an oratorio, much less is 
 it possible you can have been within the precincts 
 of a theatre. Shall I be deemed impertinent if I 
 advise you to go and see for yourself what thea 
 tres are like? I trust I shall not, for I feel that 
 a few visits to a respectable theatre would, if you 
 
THE CHURCH AND THE STAGE. Itf 
 
 went with an unbiassed mind, change the tone of 
 your opinions with regard to the amusements pre 
 sented there. But if you will not go, then be as 
 sured that attacks upon the stage and its professors, 
 made by yourself and persons holding opinions in 
 harmony with your own, will avail but little, and in 
 the waste of your mental strength you will make no 
 more progress among the hearts of society with your 
 dogmas, than did Sisyphus of old with the stone up 
 the mountain side. 
 
 A few words more and I have done ; I have not 
 sought this quarrel with you ; I know you not, and 
 toward you individually I have no ill-feeling. It is 
 against your opinions that I have taken my stand ; 
 and though I trust I may never again be placed in 
 a position to call forth any remarks of mine on the 
 subject of this letter, be assured I shall not shrink 
 if the time and occasion should arrive, but shall be 
 ever on the watch to do battle for that art of which I 
 am an humble follower, and for those who, like my 
 self, are anxious to see it placed in the position 
 which it ought to hold amongst the instructive 
 and elevating influences which aid and direct the 
 progress of the human mind. 
 
AGASSIZ. 
 
 DIED Dec. 14, 1873. 
 
 " Oh! what a noble heart was here undone, 
 When Science self destroyed her favorite son." 
 
 From a seat of learning in the North has gone 
 forth a wail of sorrow, a wail which echoes not only 
 through the length and breadth of our own land, 
 but in every place in which refinement and culture 
 have found a home, and which will thrill for years 
 to come in many a heart at the mention of the name 
 of the departed. Agassiz is dead. The mighty 
 brain in which grand thoughts were kindled is, as 
 far as our earth is concerned, at rest forever ; the 
 smile which ever shone on modest merit beams for 
 us no more; the kind and gentle voice which spoke 
 in earnest sympathy with even the meanest en 
 deavor, is hushed and still, and memory is all that is 
 left us of one so loved. To speak in praise of his 
 vast acquirements would be but 
 
 " To guard a title that was rich before." 
 
 The history of his adopted country will inscribe 
 them on its brightest pages, and his works will be 
 forever cherished amid the records of the nation. 
 But apart from the homage which the worshippers 
 
 148 
 
AGASSIZ. 149 
 
 of his genius will surely lay before its shrine, apart 
 from the consideration of the labors which have 
 rendered him immortal, and enrolled his name 
 among the deathless few, there steals into the 
 thought the recollection of that tender and gentle 
 nature which was so magnetic in its association, and 
 which shed so pleasing an influence upon all who 
 came within its contact. Involved in his own cher 
 ished pursuits, he scorned the mean pretences of the 
 world, and being, as he himself declared, "Too busy 
 to make money," he was utterly free from the taint 
 of selfishness, and lived less for his own advance 
 ment than for the good of others, preferring the 
 calm enjoyment of a studious and retiring life to the 
 tinsel glories of wealth and display. Mindful of 
 the difficulties which beset the student of science, 
 and well knowing how willingly the world will sneer 
 at what it cannot comprehend, his hand was ever 
 extended to help the seeker after truth, and to 
 place his feet upon a firm foundation. A father 
 among the young, a brother among the mature, and 
 a kind and gentle friend to all, the name of Agassiz 
 will be loved as his genius is honored, and his child 
 like nature cherished as his mental powers are valued 
 and esteemed. Above the earth which covers his 
 remains will be mingled the bitter regrets for the 
 loss of one so gifted, and the sighs of sympathy for 
 those who will miss the communion of a loving 
 heart. As on and on we journey toward the end, 
 the pathway of our life is strewn with sorrowing 
 
A MINGLED YARN, 
 
 memories; but the blossoms of existence diffuse 
 their fragrance by the wayside, and teach us that 
 all is not sad for those who mourn. The incense of 
 good deeds ascends to Heaven, and the place which 
 so glorious a soul as his filled on earth, becomes a 
 monument for after-time, and points to the genera 
 tions which follow the shining remembrance of his 
 power. For over fourteen years the writer has held 
 pleasant intercourse with him, has profited by the 
 varied store of knowledge he was ever so ready to 
 impart, and with a saddened soul would add this 
 poor tributary leaf to the garlands which will deck 
 his tomb. He is but one among the many who 
 have felt the friendly interest which Agassiz was 
 wont to display to all who needed the help of such 
 a teacher, and who, in the years to come, will sigh 
 
 " For the touch of a vanished hand, 
 And the sound of a voice that is still." 
 
MAJOR HARRY LARKYNS. 
 
 The melancholy circumstances surrounding the 
 death of Major Larkyns, which took place in Octo 
 ber, 1874, are so fresh in the recollection as to need 
 no further mention here. But the present oppor 
 tunity is taken advantage of to allude to his great 
 abilities, and to regret that the influences about him 
 were such as to fetter their fullest action, and to pre 
 vent him from adorning more distinctly the walk of 
 life in which he moved. Poverty always hung like a 
 gaunt spectre about his footsteps, and the generous 
 fountains of his nature were dried up by her touch. 
 He walked among men as if they knew him not, and 
 it was only the few who were admitted to a close in 
 timacy with him who felt the warmth of that heart 
 which showed its secrets but so rarely. He was an 
 admirable linguist, familiar with the literature of most 
 continental nations, a brilliant writer, to whom no 
 theme appeared to come amiss, a musician of cult 
 ure, an artist of refined and polished taste, and, 
 as a conversationalist rarely excelled. Beyond all 
 these, he was a warm and true friend, and where his 
 sympathies were aroused, his generosity led him of 
 ten far beyond the bounds of prudence. Many a 
 story of his kindness to those in want is well known 
 to his associates, and the recollection of his unselfish 
 
IS 2 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 character is with them a sacred memory. He was 
 followed to the grave by many who knew and loved 
 him, and whose appreciation of his worth was evident 
 by the depth of their sorrow. At the close of the 
 religious ceremonies, the following remarks were 
 made : 
 
 Friends : I little thought when, less than three 
 weeks ago, I clasped hands with him and bade him 
 God-speed upon the work he had just undertaken, 
 that I should so soon have been called upon to stand 
 beside the dead body of Harry Larkyns and pay this 
 last sad tribute to his memory. And I know that 
 in a moment like the present I may claim and re 
 ceive the sympathy of those around me, for here are 
 gathered those who loved him well, and to whom my 
 poor words can convey but little meaning. Still it is 
 good to be here. It is good for us to linger for a mo 
 ment about his remains, and from the grave which 
 soon will cover them to pluck a blade of memory, 
 greener than the grass; to weave it into a chapletof 
 sorrow lighter than the air ; to waft it upon the current 
 of our sympathy over land and sea to the home of 
 his birth, and laying it with the tenderness of our 
 pity at the feet of the mourning ones who loved and 
 cherished him, say, in all the grand fraternal feeling 
 of sorrow : " Though you were absent he was not 
 alone, for man s grief and woman s tears attended 
 him to the last, and he sleeps in peace, for gentle 
 and loving hands have laid him in his grave." Of him 
 who now lies cold and still before us what shall we say ? 
 
MAJOR HARRY LARKYNS. 153 
 
 We who knew him best, knew well the struggle of 
 his life, the torments he endured, the wearying con 
 flict of his one poor heart against a world of selfish, 
 pitiless pride ; a pride so pitiless that a single tone 
 of manly friendship or a word of womanly sympa 
 thy came to him like an echo of the voices which he 
 heard in childhood, voices which he longed again 
 to hear, but which he resolved never more to listen 
 to until the thorny path which misfortune had 
 placed before him had been cleared by the energy 
 of his own endeavor, and he could stand proudly be 
 fore those loved ones of an earlier time and say : " I 
 bring you back the honor you bestowed upon me, 
 unstained as when it left your hands, and claim, in 
 common justice to my nature, a full oblivion of the 
 past." He was a gentleman in the truest sense of 
 the word. Upon his lips the breath "of slander never 
 lived, the cruelty of corrupting tongues never 
 found a home ; vulgarity of every kind was a perfect 
 stranger to his soul, and in the retrospect of his own 
 sorrows he knew how to find excuses for the follies 
 of his fellow-men, and to cover with the mantle of 
 charity those errors which the world too often black 
 ens with the name of crime. A soldier by profession, 
 distinguished upon the battle-field, the grandest and 
 most heroic struggles of his life were the hand-to- 
 hand conflicts which he waged against those who re 
 viled him here and who were far beneath him in every 
 point of manliness and truth and honor. And now 
 that he is dead, let those detractors know, that no 
 
154 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 mother s tender hand ever smoothed his head, no fa 
 ther s gentle voice ever offered him counsel. Those 
 natural protectors and advisers were snatched from 
 him at so early an age that his memory of them was 
 but a faded recollection. Deprived of their care and 
 protection he had to fight the battle of his life alone. 
 How nobly he struggled, how grandly he toiled, we, 
 who knew his sacrificing heroism can testify, and the 
 number of those who loved and honored him, and 
 who are to-day gathered in the depth of sorrow 
 around his poor remains, will be the best evidence of 
 the affection he inspired, and of the regrets at his 
 unhappy death which are now breathed above his 
 tomb. 
 
 And now, gentle and loving friend and brother, 
 farewell ! The blessing of eternal rest has fallen 
 upon your soul ! Is it too much to hope that in your 
 home of peaceful calm, your spirit now hears the 
 words of the friend who loved you well, and still 
 more the unspoken sorrow of those who stand around 
 your bier, and that their love and regard may testify 
 to you how bitter is their grief at their untimely loss, 
 and how deep the affection with which they will 
 cherish your memory in the years which are yet to 
 come ? 
 
WILLIAM BARRY, 
 
 COMEDIAN OF THE CALIFORNIA THEATRE, DIED 
 JANUARY 2, 1875. 
 
 Amid the various scenes of which the drama of 
 this our life is composed, sadness and sorrow have 
 oftentimes a place, and the mask of revelry and glad 
 ness frequently hides a face which, when stripped of 
 its covering, wears an aspect of the deepest gloom. 
 Gathered close around the body of him whose soul 
 was consecrated to mirth we feel how intimately in our 
 existence the serious and the grotesque, the pathetic 
 and the ludicrous are blended together, and we, who 
 only a few evenings since laughed with delight at the 
 sallies of his wit, are now come to weep above his 
 coffin. The grave which he has so often dug in sport 
 for the reception of a mimic corpse, has now in truth 
 been opened for him, and the cold clods of earth 
 must soon cover his remains. His taking off has 
 been most sudden and warningless, and passing away 
 alone, with no friend near to close his eyes and whis 
 per a word of loving comfort, the shock of his hasty 
 death has fallen with a withering blight upon the 
 hearts of his associates, who only a few evenings 
 since saw him in apparently vigorous health. But 
 even in this somewhat unheralded departure there is 
 
 155 
 
156 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 consolation. He writhed under no pain, he suffered 
 not from any mental torture, but passed away peace 
 fully, as to a pleasant sleep. The hand of " God s 
 gentle angel," that leads us with a tender touch into 
 that mysterious realm which is the common heritage 
 of us all, and which, even 4 for the best and strongest 
 of us, must in a few brief years be opened to our 
 knowledge, has beckoned him away from earth, and 
 closing behind him " the great gateway of the past," 
 has shut out forever the influence of sorrow and suf 
 fering and wrong. Of his talents in that walk of his 
 profession to which he of late years devoted himself, 
 it is hardly needful that I should speak. They were 
 of that remarkable character that they could not fail 
 to leave an impression upon the minds of those who 
 experienced their power, and have established for 
 him a reputation, both lasting and extended. When 
 the history of the California stage shall be written, 
 the name of William Barry must embellish its bright 
 est page, and in the temple consecrated to dramatic 
 art the laurels which adorn his brow must long re 
 main fresh and green. Conscientious and earnest in 
 the work before him, he was pre-eminently a master 
 of his peculiar branch ; and while he always endeav 
 ored to bring to the study of a character all the 
 adornments it had received from his predecessors, he 
 invariably invested it with a feeling and power exclu 
 sively and singularly his own ; and it is not too much 
 to say that he bridged over the gulf which separates 
 the present school of acting from the more thought- 
 
WILLIAM BARRY. 1 57 
 
 ful and labored style of the past, and that in him we 
 have lost one of the last links in the chain which 
 bound us to the stage traditions of our fathers. But 
 you who knew him so well and so long, know also 
 his shining merits as an artist, and my words can add 
 but little to the hold they will have upon your mem 
 ory. If he had a fault it was one which never pressed 
 hard upon another, but was an injury to himself 
 alone, and the gentleness of his heart, his quiet and 
 inoffensive manner, childlike and innocent in its every 
 expression, while it allowed no wrong to others to 
 come within its influence, should teach us to look 
 kindly and with sorrow upon the one weakness of 
 his life. The regret among his comrades, and the 
 sympathy of loving hearts outside of his profession, 
 evidenced by the gathering now present, are the 
 surest proofs of the love he always inspired, and of 
 the respect which all who knew him are now so de 
 sirous to display. And though we take leave with 
 sadness of his earthly form, in spirit he will be long 
 and constantly with us, who believe 
 
 " That our remembrance, though unspoken, 
 May reach him where he lives " ; 
 
 and in many an hour to come will tender and af 
 fectionate tribute be paid to his memory, mingled 
 with a soft and gentle grief that we can know him 
 on earth no more. 
 
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