A LA CALIFORNIA SKETCHES OF LIFE IN THE GOLDEN STATE. By COL. ALBERT S. EVANS. Author of " Our Sister Republic." WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY COL. W. H. L. BARNES, AND ILLUSTRATIONS FROM ORIGINAL DRAWINGS BY ERNEST NARJOT. SAN FRANCISCO: A. L. BANCROFT & COMPANY, Publishers, Booksellers and Stationers. 1873. Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1873, By A. L. BANCROFT & COMPANY, In the- office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. F i TO MY MOTHER, IN TOKEN OF AFFECTIONATE REMEMBRANCE, THIS VOLUME IS DEDICATED HER LONG ABSENT SON. 'i v AUTHOR'S PREFACE. Some years since my deeply lamented friend, the late Albert D. Richardson, who keenly appreciated Western character, called my attention to the fact th£t the first chapter in the history of Cali- fornia, following the American occupation of the country, and the discovery of gold, was drawing rapidly to a close; and, under the influence of railroads and the telegraph, and the influx of a different class of immigrants from the older Atlantic States, society would soon lose its distinctive character. He suggested that I should col- lect and prepare for publication a portion of the fund of anecdotes illustrative of the reckless, adventurous, stirring life of the genera- tion now passing away, which he knew I had accumulated from personal observation, believing that the material was worth preserv- ing, and that the reading public would appreciate the labor and enjoy the perusal of the book. The suggestion struck me favorably; and I commenced the work immediately, following it until the volume was more than half completed, when I was called away to the tropics, and the project was for the time abandoned. It is only recently that I have been able to resume the work and push it to completion. I have not endeavored to produce a statistical work upon California, and do not think it would have paid me if I had, but to give a vivid and truthful picture of scenes for the most part unfamiliar to the residents of the older States of the Union, avoid- ing, so far as might be, traveling in the beaten track of tourists, and the discussion of subjects already grown hackneyed and tiresome to the general reader. The book, I think, will repay perusal, and if it does not, the reader will at least have the consolation of knowing that the author is after all the greatest loser in the operation. OTTKODUCTION. My lamented friend, Col. Albert S. Evans, was engaged upon this book for some time prior to his death. Of its success he enter- tained confident expectations, and had spared no pains to render it attractive in every respect. _ He perished in the unfortunate disaster by which the steamship " Missouri" was burned at sea in October, 1872, while on her passage from New York towards Havana; and his work has thus unexpect- edly fallen on those who had no other thought than one of sympathy with him in his hopes of its success, financially as well as in a literary point of view. The author was quite widely and favorably known from his long connection with journalism and previous literary efforts. To a large circle of friends he was endeared by admirable social qualities and a career of unswerving integrity. Whatever may be the judg- ment of careful critics as to the merits of this posthumous publica- tion, to those who knew him it will have a value beyond the reach of any standard of letters. It is the final and unfinished work of his day of life, and for that reason, if no other, they will cherish it. It is, alas! one of the few presently available resources of a desolated family; and for that reason, if no other, they will cheerlully, I am sure, contribute towards its pecuniary success. That it has high literary merit, will not be doubted. To other than Californian readers it will commend itself by the freshness and vitality of its style, and the charming though rather strongly localized character of its descriptions and incidents. Doubtless there is somewhat of incompleteness in the detail and final arrange- ment of its parts, which would have been remedied, and perhaps INTRODUCTION. remodeled, had Col. Evans' life been spared. Still his friends have not thought it advisable to attempt to revise or change it for better or worse. It goes to the press and the reading public just as his own hand left it — a literary orphan. To those who may have to deal with it in the way of book notices, may be suggested the propriety of distinguishing between what are or might have been remediable faults, and those which are inherent in the nature of the undertaking. To the public of our own city and State it commends itself as a work of strong local interest, embodying, in a permanent and attractive form, much that otherwise would have early perished from sight and memory; as the production of one of our own citizens ; as the resource of an interesting family, which has been doubly bereaved in the sudden death of husband and father; and it appeals forcibly to that sentiment of generous sympathy for the living and regret for the dead, which is so singularly characteristic of Californian social life. WM. H. L. BARNES. San Francisco, May, 1873. CONTENTS. DEDICATION. INTRODUCTION. AUTHOR'S PREFACE. CHAPTER I. MY FIRST PASEAR, The Sierra Morena, and the Redwood Forest of San Mateo and Santa Cruz. — The Sportsman's Paradise. — Looking back at the Golden City. — Yester- day and To-day. — Along the Bay of San Francisco. — The Valley of San Andreas. — Harry Linden's Speculation in Oats. — Good Resolutions and what came of them. — A Dream of Tropic Life. — An Evening in the Mountains. — A Scene of Wonderful Beauty. — The Avalanche from the Pacific. — Descending the Mountain by Moonlight. — The End of my Pasear. CHAPTER II. IN THE MISTS OF THE PACIFIC. The Crystal Springs.-4The Music of the Night.— {njeJTalifornia Night Singer and the Legend ofihe JEaster Eggs.)— The Canada del Reymundo. — Over --the~Sierfa^torena. — Down the Coast. — Pescadero and its Surroundings. — Pigeon Point and the Wrecks. — A Shipwrecked Ghost. — The Coast Whalers and their Superstitions. — An Embarcadero on the San Mateo Coast. — Ride to Point Ano Nuevo. CHAPTER III. IN THE MISTS OF THE PACIFIC. Steele's Ranch. — The Model Dairy of California. — Captain Graham. — A Semi- Tropical Garden.— Frightful Contest with a Grizzly. — Bear and for-Bear. The True King of Beasts.— The Model of Conservatism.— How the CONTEXTS. Hunters lay for Bruin. — A Foolhardy Feat. — An Adventure on the San Joaquin. — A Bear on a Spree. — Don't stand on ceremony with a Bear. — How a Californian Bear entertained a Mexican Bull. — How Native Cali- fornians Lasso the Bear. — How a Yankee did it. — The Bear Ahead. — Pebble Beach of Pescadero. — Cona. — The oldest Inhabitant. — Don Felipe Armas. — Don Salvador Mosquito. — The Man who was a Soldier. — A Hundred Years Ago. — Catching Salmon Trout. — Shooting Sea-Lions. — Wild Scene on the Sea-Shore. CHAPTER IV. PESCADERO TO SANTA CRUZ. Down the Coast toward Santa Cruz. — The Moss and Shell Beaches of Pesca- dero. — A Disgusted Hunter. — A Grizzly Bear Procession. — A Mutual Surprise and Double Stampede. — The Bear Fever. — The Buck Fever and the Prairie-Hen Fever. — How Jim Wheeler killed the Buck. — How Old S. killed three at one shot. — A Spanish-American Gentleman of Scientific Attainments and Undoubted Veracity . — View of the B \y of Monterey and the Valley and Mountains of Santa Cruz. CHAPTER V. SANTA CRUZ AND ITS SURROUNDINGS. The Bay of Santa Cruz and its Surroundings. — The Natural Bridge. — Mussel men, their Dangers and Delight. — Adventure with a Sea-Lion. — Uninvited Guest at a Pic-nic. — An Embarcadero. — Sea Bathing. — Big Trees of Santa Cruz. — Caves. — Mountain Rides. — Supposed Ruins. — Up the Valley of the San Lorenzo. — The Mountain Honeysuckle and Madrono. — Over the Mountains again. — The Redwood. — And what a Fall was there my Countrymen! — How they broke Jail. — Down the Valley of Los Gatos.-- Strange Rise and Fall of the Streams of the Coast Range, — Out of the Wilderness. CHAPTER Vl. IN THE STREETS OF SAN FRANCISCO. Cosmopolitanism of San Francisco. — Its Street Panoramas and Pictures and Sounds. — An Autumn Morning. — The "Barbary Coast." — The Chinese Missionary. — Factory Hands on Holiday. — Funeral of Ah Sam. — A Chinese Faction-fight. — An Equestrian Outfit. — The Poundmaster's Van. General Stampede, its Cause and its Course. — The Pine-apple Plant.- — The Passers-by. CONTENTS. CHAPTER VII. TAMALPAIS. Where it is Situated. — Some Speculation as to the Signification of the name and its Possible Origin. — Our Start for the Mountains. — The Trip to San Rafael and Adventures by the Way. — Ascending the Mountain. — First Blood. — The View of the Bay and City of San Francisco. — Mount Diablo puts in an Appearance. — At the Summit. — A Bear-faced Fraud. — Fine Study of a Fog-Bank. — A Faithless Guide. — Wandering in the Mist. — Out of the Woods. — An Afternoon's Sport. — A Painful Subject. — Adlos, Tamalpais. CHAPTER VIII. i NAPA VALLEY AND MT. ST. HELENA. From San Francisco to Vallejo. — What we saw while crossing the Bay of San Pablo. — The Valley of Napa. — A Moonlight Evening in the Mountains. — Calistoga by Moonlight and Sunlight. — The Baths. — Hot Chicken Soup Spring. — The Petrified Forest of Calistoga. — The Great Ranch and Vine- yards. — Ascent of Mount St. Helena. — What we saw from the Summit. — Reminiscences of the Flood. — Stoiy of the Judge and the Stranger. — Presently, sir! Presently! — Good Joke on the Robbers. — What happened to me in Arizona. — A Good Story, but too appreciative audience. CHAPTER IX. WAITING UNDER THE MADRONO. Dreaming of the Tropics Again. — The Honey Bee. — In California. — A Good Joke on the Bear. — On the Red Desert. — In the Valley of Shadow. — Fair Alfaretto. — Burning of the Mezquites. — The Curse of the White Man.— A Wild Night's Ride in the Sierra. CHAPTER X. AROUND THE MOUNTAIN CAMP FIRE. The Fountain of Youth. — Hunting for Trouble. — Mike Durfee's Snake. — The Dogs of '49. — A Tragedy in the Redwoods. — When shall we three meet again?— Story of the Champion Mule of El Dorado. — How a Green Down-Easter struck it rich. — Result of Misplaced Confidence. — Sensational Reports Depreciated. — Out-door amusements in Arizona. — An Album in Camp. — The Mountains by "Moonlight. — Parting under the Madrono.— Adios! CONTEXTS. CHAPTER XI. THE CHINESE FEAST OF THE DEAD. Weird and Ghastly Scene in a Chinese Temple at Midnight. — The Story of Concatenation Bill. — The True History of the Great Indian Fight on the Gila. CHAPTER XII. A CRUISE ON THE BARBARY COAST. Night Scenes in San Francisco. — Low Life. — Scene in a Recently Suppressed Gambling House. — Visit to the Chinese Quarter. — How John Chinaman loses his Money. — The Thieves and Rounders of San Francisco. — How they Live and where they Lodge. — The Dance-Cellars. — Opium Dens and Thieves' Ordinaries of the Barbary Coast. — How the San Francisco Police treat old offenders, etc., etc. CHAPTER XIII. "" FROM THE ORIENT DIRECT. Arrival of a China Steamer at San Francisco. — Her Passengers and Cargo. — A Horseback Trip to Mount Diablo. — Ascending the Mountain. — The Magnificent View from the Summit. ' CHAPTER XIV. EARLY TIMES. The Days of '49 and '52. — How they administered the Law in Tuolumne County, and Justice in Sierra. — Old Put and Judge Hollowbarn. — Pike's " Sasherarer. " — Peart Times on Rabbit Creek. — A Game that was Spoiled. — An Appeal that wouldn't hold, and Prediction tKaTAvouldrfrdo - to bet upon. — Stories of Wagers. — Insulted Dignity Avenged. — Base In- gratitude. — Dead or Alive ? — Drowned or Not ? — A Glass-eye Bet. CALIFORNIA. CHAPTER I, MY FIRST PASEAR. The Sierra Morena and the Redwood Forest of San Mateo and Santa Cruz. —The Sportsman's Paradise. — Looking back at the Golden City. — Yes- terday and To-day. — Along the Bay of San Francisco.— The Valley of San Andreas. — Harry Linden's Speculation in Oats. — Good Resolu- tions and what came of them. — A Dream of Tropic Life. — An Even- ing on the Mountains. — A Scene of Wonderful Beauty. — The Avalanche from the Pacific. — Descending the Mountain by Moonlight. — The End of my Paseaf. \ Stretch UN g away southward from the Golden Gate, at the northern point of the peninsula of San Francisco, through San Mateo, Santa Cruz, Mon- terey, San Luis Obispo, Santa Barbara, Los An- geles, and San Diego Counties, in Alta California, and thence on down through the entire peninsula of Lower California to Cape St. Lucas, on the border of the tropics, is an almost unbroken range of mountains, known at different points by different names, and presenting the wildest variety of scenery to be found in any mountain range in North America. (ii) j 2 MY FIRST PASEAK. Just back of the Mission Dolores, on the southern boundary of the city of San Francisco, they rise from low hills into minor mountains, and are known as the Bernal Heights, and Mission Mountains. Farther southward they increase in height, and become clothed in forest. Twenty miles south of San Francisco they form a majestic sierra, and thence, for some distance, are designated as the Sierra Morena. Still farther south they are known as the Coast Range of Santa Cruz, and farther yet as the Gabilan Mountains. Along this range, in San Mateo and Santa Cruz Counties, is one of the largest, if not the largest, of the redwood forests of California. This forest-belt is from ten to twenty miles in width from east to west, and from thirty to forty miles in length from north to south, and contains timber enough to build twenty San Franciscos. The red- woods nowhere come down to the Pacific coast, and the traveler on the San Francisco and San Jose Railroad catches so few glimpses of them that he would never dream of the existence of such a forest ; while from the decks of passing steamers one sees only small patches of them in the canons, miles back in the interior. The giant redwood — to which family the big tre'es of Tuolumne, Calaveras, and Mariposa Counties belong — flourishes best at a hiorh elevation and in a warm, moist atmosphere. This great forest, like that of Mendocino, crowns the mountains with tropical luxuriance, and is watered by the mists which, rising for a considerable part of the year from the bosom of the Pacific, are driven inland by the trade-winds and condensed on the mountain THE REDWOOD FOREST. n slopes, keeping the rank vegetation which clothes them almost perpetually dripping. The redwoods themselves rise to a height of one to three hundred feet or more, and attain immense size. Beneath their shade springs up an almost impenetrable under- growth of flowering shrubs and trees — California iilac, tea-oak, pine, ceonotus, laurel, or the fragrant bay, buckeye, manzanita, poison-oak, the giant Cali- fornia honeysuckle, which, half bush, half vine, rises to a height of ten to twenty feet, and from its thou- sands of trumpet-shaped flowers, tinted like the wild crab-apple blossoms, loads the atmosphere with a delicious perfume ; and last, but not least, the ma- drono, pride of the forest, and fairest of all the trees of earth. These woods are for the most part in a native state. Here and there the axe and saw-mill have made sad havoc, but in the more mountainous and least accessible localities the forest stretches unbroken for miles and miles, and silence reigns supreme. Horse trails are few, and the dense un- dergrowth and the ruggedness of the country make traveling almost impossible. Here the grizzly bear hides in security, and from his mountain fastnesses sallies forth at intervals to forage on the flocks and herds, orchards and gardens, that dot the lowlands. Here also the California lion , wolf, fox, mink, raccoon, wild-cat, lynx, deer, eagle, and great vulture abound, within hearinor of the whistle of the locomotive which sweeps through the valley of Santa Clara, and almost within reach of the echoes of the guns of Alcatraz, and the bells of the Golden City. It is still, to the great majority of the residents even of San Francisco, a 14 MY FIRST PASEAR. terra incognita, and for years to come will be a verit- able hunter's paradise. Quail, doves, pigeons, rab- bits, squirrels, hares, and other game, are found everywhere, and the pure mountain streams swarm with the beautiful spotted trout of California. Parties of ladies and gentlemen from San Fran- cisco, San Mateo, Santa Clara, San Jose, Santa Cruz, and Pescadero, skilled in woodcraft and wise in the ways of adepts with the gun and rod, make excur- sions into this tangled wilderness, camp out, hunt, fish, pic-nic, and enjoy themselves for weeks at a time annually; but to the general tourist and the great world at large the country is as little known as the savage and inhospitable wilderness of central and northern Australia. Between this forest and mountain country, and the shore of the Pacific, there is a narrow but pro- ductive farming and grazing country, but seldom visited by travelers, as it lies off the main lines of communication, though quite readily accessible from San Francisco. This too has its attractions for the tourist who is not sight-seeing by the guide-book, and much that is novel, curious, and enjoyable may always be found there. The Spanish language has many words and terms having no equivalent in the English tongue, which are so identified with the geography and every-day life of California that they have become engrafted upon our local vernacular, and must forever form a part of it. Among the most expressive of these is the pasedr. Literally it means to walk, or to take out upon a walk, but conventionally it is a journey A SEPTEMBER RIDE. 15 devoid of business object, a quiet pleasure jaunt, a trip for rest, relaxation from care and toil, for recre- ation. When the lazy clays of summer come, you ask for your San Francisco friend the doctor, the lawyer, clergyman, or merchant, and the chances are that you will be told " he has gone on a pasedr' to the Yosemite, to Lake Tahoe, to the springs, or to the mountains where the trout-streams abound. The country of which I have been speaking is just the country for an enjoyable pasedr, and many times, when incessant toil in a close, dark office, or the too bracine winds of San Francisco had worn me down, and made rest, recreation, and a change of air im- perative, I have shouldered my gun, mounted my horse, and galloped away to these mountains, there to find refuge from care, anxiety, and exhausting labor, purer air, lighter spirits, a better appetite, and, in the end, perfect health again. It was a bright September afternoon when I started on my last pasedr out toward the Sierra Morena, mounted on brave old Don Benito, a vet- eran campaigner in Algiers and Mexico, who had borne me many a weary mile over the hot sands of the desert, up and down the red mountains, and through the Apache-haunted wilds of Arizona. My son and namesake, — I would say heir, were it not that it would seem like A. Ward's last joke, in view of the present extent of my landed estates and the condition of my exchequer, — as bold a rider ?nd skillful fisherman as any boy of twelve may be. accompanied me, mounted on his plucky and spirited little California mustang, his pet and companion for iC MY FIRST PASEAR. years. Out through the dusty streets of the city proper, and through the Mission Dolores, we rode at a gallop, and only paused, at length, to allow our fretting horses a moment's rest, and look back upon the city we were so gladly leaving behind us, from the heights beyond Islais Creek. It is, after all, a goodly city, and a goodly sight to look upon from these hills ; and as we look down upon it, and upon the ancient mission which stood there, as it stands to-day, when the site of San Francisco was a track- less, uninhabited waste, the beautiful lines of one of California's most gifted writers, Ira D. Colbraith, come vividly to our memory : " Little the goodly Fathers, Building their Mission rude, By the lone untraversed waters, In the western solitude, " Dreamed of the wonderful city, That looks on the stately bay Where the bannered ships of the nations Float in their pride to-day; " Dreamed of the beautiful city, Proud on her tawny height, And strange as a flower upspringing To bloom in a single night. " For lo ! but a moment lifting The veil of the years away, We look on a well-known picture. That seems but as yesterday. " The mist rolls in at the Gateway Where never a fortress stands, O'er the blossoms of Sancelito, And Yerba Buena's sands; THE ANCIENT MISSION. x y " Swathing the shores where only The sea-birds come and pass, And drifts with the drifting waters, By desolate Alcatraz ; " We hear, when night droops downward, And the bay throbs under the stars, The ocean voices blending With ripple of soft guitars ; " With chiming bells of the Mission, With passionate minors sung, Or a quaint Castilian ballad Trilled in the Spanish tongue. " Fair from thy hills, O city, Look on the beautiful bay! Prouder far is the vision Greeting our eyes to-day ; 1 Better the thronged waters, And the busy streets astir, Purple and silken raiment, Balsam and balm and myrrh ; " Gems of the farther Indies, Gold of thine own rich mine, And the pride and boast of the peoples, O beautiful queen, are thine ! " Praise to the goodly Fathers, With banners of faith unfurled ! Praise to the sturdy heroes Who have won thee to the world ! " Descending from these heights, the road — the San Bruno turnpike — winds in and out for miles along the bluff shores of the Bay of San Francisco, and the views, changing at every turn, are wonder- fully diversified and beautiful. At one point we saw a land-locked basin, in which a dozen Italian fisher- men's boats lay rocking idly, and at another we 2 j g MY FIRST PASEAR. paused to watch a party of " dagos," who were wading in the bay up to their necks, hauling a seine, while their lelucca-rigged craft rode at anchor as it might have done in the Levant or the Grecian Ar- chipelago. Cut out that section of the blue bay, with the felucca and its crew of red-capped fisher- men, put it into a frame, and you have a matchless " Scene in the Levant," by one of the very oldest of the masters. Great white pelicans winged their way in silence over the waters, and flocks of gulls, shaugs, and crooked-billed curlew, rose as we gal- loped along. Long streamers of snowy vapor hung out like flags of truce from the summits of the mountains on the west, and looking back to the north we saw the mist driving in through the Golden Gate and scudding across the bay. Leaving the shore of the bay at last, some ten or twelve miles from San Francisco, we galloped over an open plain, and at San Bruno crossed the South- ern Pacific Railroad track, and turned by a by-road into a long, winding canon leading up to the summit of a range of hills to the westward, between which and the higher and forest-crowned Sierra Morena, still farther on towards the sea, lies, hidden wholly from the outer world, the lovely valley of San An- dreas. The plain upon the western shore of the bay, and all the Contra Costa and Alameda valley and hill country on the eastern side, was brown : and dry, and sear as it ever is in the interior of California in summer and autumn ; and the valley of San Andreas, embowered in shade, and the cool, green, mist-nourished forests on the mountains be- JOHN CHINAMAN iq yond it, grew more beautiful by the contrast as we approached them. The Spring Valley Water Company, which derives its water supply for San Francisco from the head of the Pillarcitos Creek, in the redwoods, some forty miles south of the city, and has a beautiful lake for a reservoir in the mountains, was here building another reservoir, equal in size to anything on the continent. A dam, seventy feet high, with founda- tions sixty feet deep, has been thrown across the valley ; and the waters of the San Andreas, thus thrown back, form a lake two miles and a half long, and containing one thousand million gallons. This is held as a reserve supply for dry seasons. John Chinaman did the work, with white men as superin- tendents, and, as is his custom, did it well. He was then at work, in the same quiet, methodical way, making- bricks for the barriers of the flood-gates. John is a law unto himself, and can do a wonderful amount of minding his own business within a given time. Pay him regularly what you agree to, give him his New Year's holidays, and a chance to supply himself with chicken and duck for his Sunday dinner and rice for his regular daily rations at fair rates, and he is contentment itself. The question of woman suffrage does not worry him, eight-hour laws he holds in contempt, and no lazy, jaw-working demagogues can fool him with their plausible soph- istries into agrarian combinations, strikes, and riots. He is a philosopher in his way, and not without claims to respect and better treatment than he usually gets from his Caucasian " betters." 20 MY FIRST PASEAR. Winding down the hill-side and around the great reservoir, we enter the valley of San Andreas just as the sun is sinking in the roseate bank of fleecy mist which, like a great snow-drift, is piled up against the mountains on the west to their very summits. The bare plain, and brown, verdureless hills weary the eye no longer, but instead fresh green chaparral and tall, full-foliaged trees stretch out on every side, and we ride down a road embowered with shrubbery, and dark with the cool shadows of evening. Coveys of tufted quail rise and whirr away as we gallop on, and rabbits creep into the bushes at every turn in the road. At the entrance of a canon stands a cot- tage, shaded by broad, spreading oaks and fragrant bay-trees ; and by the door, book in hand, sits a fair young daughter of California, with great brown eyes, as beautiful as those of a sea-lion, — I can think of no more complimentary simile. She tells us that game is swarming, and that there will be rare sport for the hunters after the 15th of September, when the prohibition on shooting is removed. A huge grizzly took possession of the pasture on the hill- side opposite the house some weeks previously, and stayed there undisturbed for a fortnight, only leaving when the wild clover, upon which he came to luxuri- ate, failed. Deer are seen almost daily, and a few days before a lynx, or wild-cat, or California lion, — the women could not tell which, — came down to the cottage in broad daylight, caught a fowl, and sat down by the door to eat it. A lady threw a shoe at the creature, which thereupon trotted off, with a growl, carrying his stolen dinner with him. HARR Y LINDEN S LOT. 2 l How vivid is my recollection of my first pascdr in the valley of San Andreas ! I had started out from San Francisco at the urgent solicitation of my old friend Col. Harry Linden, who then lived here upon an extensive mountain rancho, a part of the Domingc Feliz Rancho, determined to leave work and the wearing cares of business behind me, and have one good, quiet pasedr with him in his bachelor haunts in the hills. I had brought along my gun and any amount of ammunition, with a good supply of fishing- tackle as well, and was determined to he up with the dawn and make it very lively indeed for every- thing which wore feathers, fur, or scales, during my stay. In the early evening I arrived at the house, and was warmly welcomed by Harry, and introduced to the ladies of the family ; it was not exactly a bachelor's lot after all, and Harry, as I found, was a boarder and a petted member of a pleasant and re- fined social circle, not the solitary tenant of a com- fortless lumberman's or ranchero's cabin, as I had fancied him. We left the ladies sitting under the trees, and went in to supper. Harry has always been fancying himself a farmer, and many is the good joke that has been perpetrated upon him in the agricultural line. At that time he had been doing a big thing in that way. An enthusiastic farmer of Alameda County had imported, for seed, from Scotland, at great expense, a quantity of black Scotch oats, such as are used for making oatmeal in the "land o' cakes." He was very choice with them ; would only part with them at one dollar per pound, and, in his anxiety to introduce them as 2 2 MY FIRS T PA SEAR. widely and generally as possible among the farmers of California, had made a positive rule to sell only one pound to any one individual. Harry, not a whit less enthusiastic than himself, and, if possible, a little more public-spirited, determined to have a field of those oats which would astonish the natives. So he went around among his friends, and got them to go one at a time to his importing friend, and pur- chase a pound of the precious oats, each on the pretext of desiring to plant them in their gardens to raise seed for hypothetical ranches in the country for next season. His virtue and perseverance were fully rewarded. He succeeded in getting together, in this manner, fifty-seven pounds of the coveted oats, which he proceeded to sow in a nicely pre- pared field of goodly extent. He had sown many a field with oats of the wildest variety in his younger days, but never had he regarded the expected crop with such blissful anticipations as in this case. He watched and waited. Days grew into weeks, and weeks into months, and still no green sprout showed itself above the surface of that promising field. Painful doubts began to oppress his bosom. He dug down and found some of the oats ; they were just in the condition in which they were first put into the earth. Sore afflicted in mind, he waited yet a little longer, tried them again, and with the same result. Then he hurried away to his friend, the public-spirited importer, and sought an explanation of the mystery. It was easily given. He, the importer, had written to a friend in Edinburgh for " One thousand pounds of black oats such as are GOOD RESOLUTIONS. 33 Dest liked in Scotland for making oatmeal, clean and thoroughly dry before packing for shipment." The order had been filled conscientiously. The best ones for making oatmeal are of course kiln-dried, and to insure their coming in good condition the shippers had taken the precaution to have them dried in an extra hot kiln. They would have made oatmeal, a single pound of which would have kept a Scotchman on the scratch for a year ; but for agricultural pur- poses he might as well have sown so many hailstones or shoe pegs. Had he written that he wanted them for seed, the matter-of-fact Scotch shippers would have sent him seed oats ; but he wrote for best oat- meal-producing oats, and they sent them. The joke had just got out, and we discussed it at supper with xiearty relish, and one joke and story brought on another until the waning hours admonished us it was time to retire for the night. No one ever had a larger stock in trade, in the shape of good resolutions, than myself. I allow nobody to beat me in that line, whatever may be my short-comings in other matters. After a glori- ous night's sleep I awoke with the warm sunlight pouring in at my window, and the sweet song of wild birds falling on my ears. As I have said, I had come into this inexpressibly lovely and secluded valley to hunt wild game, and fish for mountain trout, and I arose with the firmest resolution to swallow a hasty and early breakfast, saddle up, and be off into the hills without the loss of a moment's time. The matter 01 breaKfasi. was soon disposed of, and I went out into the open air and the sunshine. Great 24 MY filial rAz^AR. spreading buckeyes and California laurels, the fra- grant bay, stood in groups all around the house ; and between two gnarled tree trunks, in the fragrant shade, I saw a hammock swinging temptingly. There was a world of romance and dreamy remem- Drances of other days and tropic climes in the sight, and — shall I say it ? — the cherished daughter of the house, she of the soft rippling hair, and great brown eyes, sat near the hammock, in the shade, with an open book before her. To see how it would seem to swing in a hammock in the shade once more, I stretched myself therein, and, to complete the repro- duction of my dream of the tropics, drew out a bunch of fragrant cigarritas, — genuine Havanas, from the factory of " the Widow of Garcia," — rolled one, lighted it, and engaged in conversation with my fair young friend. I found her highly educated, refined, accomplished, a glorious conversationalist, enter- taining, and companionable. The smoke of that cigarrita, and another, and another, and another, went curling up in blue transparent wreaths, and floated lazily away. The sunlight filtered through the leaves in rippling streams of golden glory, and the soft autumn breeze fanned my cheek and played caressingly with the locks upon my forehead, grey and harsh no more, but curly and raven-hued again, " in my mind's eye, Horatio." The view down the valley, between hills on one side clad in deepest green, on the other in brightest gold, to the great Canada del Raymundo and the high, forest-crowned mountains of Santa Clara, enveloped in, and glorified bv. the soft blue haze of the September morning, A DREAM OF THE TROPICS. EVENING ON THE MOORLAXflS 25 was poetry itself; and, beggar that I am, I swung in that hammock, smoked the fragrant cigarritas, and talked of books and poetry and travel in foreign lands, with that fair daughter of the Golden Land, until four o'clock in the afternoon. I ought to say that I am ashamed of myself; but I am not. I glory in my shame ! I would do it again, and think none the less of myself and my fellow-man — and woman — for so doing. And so would you, my reader, or you are no friend of mine, — a blockhead, an idiot, a confirmed misanthrope, or something worse. If you do not sympathize with me in this feeling, drop the book right here, and never take it up again ; you and I will not do to travel together. All earthly things end sometime and somewhere, and my siesta followed the rule. At four o'clock I saddled up old Don Benito, who had been neighing and manifesting his impatience to be off for hours, and, with Linden, rode up a long, winding pathway in the canon, through the thick, overhanging forest of laurel, madrono, live-oak, tea-oak ceonotus, buck- eye, and wild cherry, to the summit of the high hill range, above the valley upon the west. Doves, and pretty, tufted California quail rose up and whirred away into the thickets as we rode along, and rabbits and hares ran before us in the pathway, affording us abundant opportunity for using our guns. On the summit of the range was a fine wheat-field of two or three hundred acres, and there the birds fairly swarmed. We used our guns until the sport became such no longer, and then threw ourselves 26 MY FIRST P4SEAR. down upon the grass under a tree to admire the quiet beauty and subdued grandeur of the scene, and talk of old times and plans for the future. Eastward, miles away beyond the valley of San Andreas, the lower hill range and the wide marsh- lands, but seemingly at our^very feet, lay the blue Bay of San Francisco, flecked here and there with the white sails of ships. Beyond this lay a bank of semi-transparent vapor, which had drifted in through the Golden Gate and over from the city of San Francisco, and grown coralline and roseate-hued with the warm rays of the setting sun. This vapor half concealed the shores of Alameda and Contra Costa, on the eastern side of the bay, and made the high hills of those counties appear to come down bold and precipitous to the very water's edge, the intervening valley, miles in width, having wholly dis- appeared. High above these hills, magnified and lifted up as it were, and made to look far higher than he really is, loomed, like a thunder-cloud against the deep blue sky, the dark head of Mount Diablo. Looking westward, at our feet was a deep canon, beyond which was another range of hills, or more properly mountains, the real coast range, shutting out the view of the sea. These mountains are covered with a dark, redwood forest at the summit, kept dripping wet by the mist from the Pacinc. which rolls up over them in an unceasing torrent, white as an Alpine avalanche, all day long. An effect is here produced of which I despair of being able to give anything like an adequate description. The white vapor came rushing over to the eastward THE AVALANCHE FROM THE PACIFIC. 2 7 towards us, with a current like that of a thousand Niagaras rolled into one, and the beholder expects every moment to see it come down the slope, cross over the intervening canon, and overwhelm him ; but stay as long as he may, for hours, days, months, or years, it comes never a rod nearer to him. As it meets the hot air ascending from the dry valleys, it is dissipated at a certain point and disappears. You behold a mighty avalanche, white and solid in appearance as Alpine snows, ever advancing to overwhelm you, but never reaching you. Two great eagles with snow-white heads circled around and around over the dark canon below us, in which they had their nest. There was not a sound save that of our own voices to break the stillness of the evening, and, save what I have described, not a sign of life to mar the solitude of the scene. The higii, rugged mountains of Santa Clara and Santa Cruz, robed in deep-green chemisal and crowned with feathery redwoods, bounded the view on the south, and made a fitting frame for the glorious picture before us. What wonder that we gazed noon the enchanting scene, fairly reveling in the feast of beauty and sublimity nature had spread before us with such a lavish hand, until the gathering shadows of night admonished us that it was time to remount our impatient steeds and descend once more to the valley ! The full, round moon was in the heavens, throwing her mellow light o'er all that fairy landscape, as we descended from the mountain height, and in fancy we were once more wandering in the mountains of 2 g MY FIRST PASEAR. Sonora, or in the savage deserts of Arizona, masters only of the good steeds beneath us, and trusting only to the mercy of God and the good weapons in our hands and at our saddle-bows for the safety of our lives. After supper we sat beneath the trees around the hospitable casa of our friend, and rehearsed the ad- ventures and scenes of old times with a relish the strano-er to wild frontier life can never know. Harry Linden is my senior by some years, and in the ordinary course of nature and civilized .life should have lost his early penchant for Robinson Crusoe-like adventure ; but such is the fascination of border life that I believe that at this very hour he would exchange all the comforts of die most elegant home in San Francisco or New York, and the best spring mattress ever made, for a seat by the camp-fire in Apache land, and a blanket and the warm sand of the desert for a bed, — and I am just boy enough to do the same at a moment's notice, did opportunity offer and duty permit. Sitting here under the trees in the valley of San Andreas, sur- rounded by appreciative friends and the enjoyments of refined society, he tells us of a long-planned ex- pedition to the least known of the island groups of the Pacific, how one of these days he means to have his vessel rigged, manned, and provisioned for the trip ; and laugh as we may at the idea of his going on such a voyage at his age, nothing will shake his earnestness in the project, or make him admit for an instant a doubt of his ultimately carrying it out successfully. This charm of danger needlessly in- THE END OF MY PASEAR. 2 Q curred, toil self-imposed, and reckless adventure in unknown lands, once felt, becomes a part of one's v^ry being, and never fully loses its influence while life remains. Next day my fair friend showed me where to fish for the largest trout, helped me. with her own white hands to prepare the tackle, and took part with us in the sport. A few more hours of swinging in the hammock, the last cigarrito was smoked, the last story told, and reluctantly I bade my kind friends of the valley of San Andreas good-by, beneath the laurel- and the buckeye-trees, and, mounting old Don Benito, galloped away toward the Golden City. We are always happier for having been happy once ; and I have lived longer, and I hope better, and enjoyed life more, for the recollection of that first pasedr to the valley of San Andreas. And here, as we meet again to-night, the pleasant mem- ory comes back to us and we talk it over once again with keenest satisfaction. In taking leave of our fair young friend I tell her that I start for Mexico in a few days for a long pasedr under tropic skies ; and, as we ride away in the gloaming of the evening, she bows gravely, and, in the soft Castilian tongue, as is the custom of the people in Spanish lands, bids me "Adios, Amigo /" adding, with a trace of something more than mere conventional politeness in ner voice, "And the peace of God be with you!" CHAPTER II. IN THE MISTS OF THE PACIFIC. The Crystal Springs. — The Music of the Night. — The California Night-Singei and the Legend of the Easter Eggs. — The Canada del Reymundo. — Over the Sierra Morena. — Down the Coast. — Pescadero and its Surroundings. — Pigeon Point and the Wrecks. — A Shipwrecked Ghost. — The Coast Whalers and their Superstitions. — An Embarcadero on the San Mateo Coast. — Ride to Point Anno Nuevo. Riding on southward down the valley of San Andreas in the cool, quiet evening, we came to the Crystal Springs, one of the most beautiful of the summer resorts in the vicinity of San Francisco. There is a fine, large hotel, with a broad piazza all around it, just the place to sit and smoke a good cigar, have a quiet talk with your friends, and ad- mire the beauty of the surrounding scenery, brought out in all its loveliness by the full autumn moon which was pouring down its full flood of mellow light upon the scene. The San Mateo Creek runs through a wild, tangled thicket in front of the house ; parterres of flowers of ever} 7 hue, in full bloom, rill the intervening grounds ; and on the west the steep mountain sweeps around in a grand curve, forming a magnificent amphitheatre beside which the Coliseum is but the toy playhouse of a child. Away back in '3° J THE MUSIC OF THE NIGHT. 31 the air, cutting sharply against the horizon, stand great pines, from whose broad-spreading branches float long steamers of green-gray moss, giving an air of great are and venerableness to the forest. Densely wooded are all the intervening hill-sides with the fragrant laurel, tea- oak and many flowering shrubs interwoven with the glorious madrono, whose crown of bright-green leaves contrasts so pleasingly with its bark of brilliant scarlet — the madrono ought to be the favorite tree with the Fenian Brotherhood, who are so fond of seeing the green above the red. Sitting on the broad piazza, in the cool evening, we hear the whistle of the lo- comotive at San Mateo, only four miles away over the hills to the eastward. As the last faint echoes die away in the canons, a coyote wolf, which has been prowling stealthily in the vicinity of the hotel, sets up a sharp, shrill yell in answer. Other wolves, far and near — there may be half a dozen of them, but it seems as if there were a thousand — take up the cry, and in an instant the woods and the night are filled with music, net exactly such as Longfellow sines of, but which for want of better will serve to induce "the cares which infest the day" to "fold their tents like the Arab, and as silently steal away." Half a dozen huge Newfoundland dogs, good- natured, lazy fellows enough at the best, but anxious to convince the generous public that they are of some importance in the world, and make a show of earninor their bread and butter now that their master is at home, roused from their slumbers by the howl- „„ IN THE MISTS OF THE PACIFIC. ing of the coyote, with loud yells dash off into the woods, as if determined to exterminate the whole vile race right there and then, taking good care, however, to yelp their very loudest at every jump, that the gentlemen in gray may have abundant notice of 'their coming, and get out of the way in time to avoid unpleasant results to either party. I have known valiant duelists start out from San Francisco to shed each other's blood, but manage to produce much the same result by simply making so much noise as to attract the attention of the police, and insure the arrest of one or both parties before reachino- the held of honor. Instinct and reason o are much the same in their practical workings after all. When the wolves have decamped, and the dogs, with the air of conquering heroes, have returned from the bloodless campaign, and turned in for the night, the cigars are smoked out and the stories told, our company breaks up, and we retire for the night. Through the open window comes at inter- vals a sweeper music than that to which we have just been listening: the low, sweet song of a little bird of the finch species, which is found, though not in great abundance, in all the coast range country of California. This little night-singer stays con- cealed in the thickets all day, uttering no note to give notice of his whereabouts ; but when the cool shadows of the evening fall it comes forth into the gardens, and through all the long hours of the other- wise silent night, pours out its sweet and plaintive soncr as if in mourning for the loved and lost. In THE CALIFORNIA NIGHT-SINGER. 33 size and form it is not unlike the common wild California canary, to which it is doubtless allied; but, curiously enough for a night-singer, its plumage is far more brilliant and beautiful, — green, orange, and blue, with a narrow bar of red on the wings. I have never been able to see'it save in captivity, but many a night have I lain awake in my home on Russian Hill, in San Francisco, and listened to its plaintive little song as it flitted among the shrub- bery in the garden, wondering what manner of bird it might be. One day a Mexican residing in the western part of the city, who gains a livelihood by trapping canaries and linnets, offered me a pair of these little beauties for two dollars, apologizing for the high price by saying that they were very rare and caught with difficulty. Struck by their beauty and delicate brilliancy of plumage, I asked him if they ever sang. u Oh, yes, seiior; but only in the night. You must remember the story of the bird which sang all night before the tomb in which lay the body of the Saviour of the world" — touchine his hat re- spectfully — "after the crucifixion? Well, seiior, these birds are of the same ! " Then the story of the Easter- night singer of far- off Palestine, as I had heard it told in other lands, came back me ; and going home I read with fresh interest the beautiful lines by Fitzjames O'Brien: " You have heard, my boy, of the One who died, Crowned with keen thorns and crucified ; And how Joseph the wealthy — whom God reward — Cared for the corpse of the martyred Lord, And piously tombed it within the rock, And closed the gate with a mighty block. 34 IN THE MISTS OF THE PACIFIC. 11 Now, close by the tomb, a fair tree grew, With pendulous leaves and blossoms of blue; And deep in the green tree's shadowy breast A beautiful singing-bird on her nest, Which was bordered with mosses like malachite And held four eggs of an ivory white. " Now, when the bird from her dim recess Beheld the Lord in his burial dress, And looked on the heavenly face so pale, And the dear feet pierced with the cruel nail, Her heart now broke with a sudden pang* And out of the depth of her sorrow she sang. " All night long, till the moon was up, She sat and sang in her moss-wreathed cup A song of sorrow, as wild and shrill As the homeless wind when it ioams the hill ; So full of^tears, so loud and long, That the grief of the world seemed turned to song. " But soon there came, through the weeping night, A glimmering angel clothed in white ; And he rolled the stone from the tomb away, Where the Lord of the earth and the heavens lay ; And Christ arose in the cavern's gloom, And in living lustre came from the tomb. " Now the bird that sat in the heart of" the tree Beheld the celestial mystery, And its heart was filled with a sweet delight, And it poured a song on the throbbing night ; Notes climbing notes, still higher, higher, They shoot to heaven like spears of fire. " When the glittering, white-robed angel heard The sorrowing song of that grieving bird, And heard the following chant of mirth, That hailed Christ, risen from the earth, He said, ' Sweet bird, be forever blest ; Thyself, thy eggs, and thy moss-wreathed nest.' " And ever, my child, since that blessed night, When death bowed down to the Lord of light, OVER THE SIERRA MO REN A MOUNTAINS. „ c 00 The eggs of that sweet bird change their hue, And burn with red, and gold, and blue ; Reminding mankind, in their simple way, Of the holy marvel of Easter-day." I know that in a little time the march of reason will sweep this old tradition, as it has already swept away others which were once regarded as essentials of the Christian faith ; nevertheless I envied the simple, uneducated bird-catcher his childlike, un- questioning belief, and the song of the sweet night- singer of California will ever henceforth fall upon my ear more gratefully for its pleasant association with that story of holy marvel, which, although some of us may doubt, we must surely all alike admire. The sun was high in the heavens, next day, when I said good-by to Albert at Crystal Springs, and rode away into the Sierra Morena Mountains. It was a California autumn morning, — and, in saying that, I have left nothing unsaid in the way of descrip- tion. Turning southwestward, the road, one of the finest I have ever ridden over, winds round and round, in and out, along the steep sides of a deep, rocky cafion, for miles, ascending by regular and easy grades the dividing ridge between the Bay of San Francisco and the Pacific Ocean. When nearly at the summit I paused to rest my panting horse and look back upon the scene below. And such a scene ! It was a variation of that described in the story of my pasedr, but, if possible, even more en- trancingly beautiful. Eastward, the Bay of San Francisco, cairn, unruffled, and blue, glittered in the .,(3 IN THE MISTS OF THE PACIFIC. sun. The ocean mists rolling in through the Golden Gate half hid the towns which skirt the bay. The hills of Alameda, high and etherealized, rested like great straw-colored and purple clouds against the horizon; while Mount Diablo, monarch of the in- land country, reared his dark head into the blue sky, above the mists and the lower mountains, like some great rocky island, seen from the shores of an un- known sea. Southward, between the hills of San Mateo and the Sierra Morena, stretching away for miles toward the redwood-covered heights of Santa Clara, lay the ever-beautiful Canada del Reymundo. Live-oak groves are scattered through it, and near its centre rests a quiet little lake, with an island of green tules in the middle. All around the sides of the valley, among the groves in the little canons, nestle quiet farm-houses, and in the centre, upon an elevated mesa, stands the last relic of the old semi-feudal Span- ish-American times. This is an adobe house of one story, with broad veranda, formed by the wide roof being carried out all around. No garden, no grain- fields, not a single fruit-tree flourishes near it. The ranchero who built it and dwelt here among- his herds, and paid tribute to the Holy Mother Church and the Most Catholic monarch, Don Carlos "of Spain, and India King," some eighty years ago, thought the country capable of no higher improvement, and dreamed not of the paradise it was to become when he and his should give place to the stranger who dwelt beyond the great Sierra Nevada somewhere. He built no roads, planted no trees, and left behind only OVFR r&F SIERRA MORENA MOUNTAINS. yj aus low-roofed jaical, and die musical Spanish name which he gave to the valley. On again. One of those curious blue-and-brown birds, with peaked cap and tail as disproportionately long as that of a peacock, called here a " Road Runner," and in Mexico "El Correro del Camino" — the courier of the road, — which never flies if it can avoid it, but runs with a speed which distances the fleetest horse, darted along in the road ahead of us. I galloped after it, vainly trying to get within shoot- ; ng distance, until, tired of the sport, it jumped over the side of the mountain and disappeared in the bushes of the canon below. The road is cut most of the way out of the solid rock, and you look down from time to time almost perpendicularly into canons hundreds and hundreds of feet. It is a succession, on a modified scale, of Cape Horn and the scenery on the South Fork of the American River in the Sierra Nevada, on the Central Pacific Railroad route, and at the same time on a scale quite large enough to try to the utmost the nerves of timid travelers. The flying mists, which had been scudding in broken clouds over the sierra, lifted and rolled away as I crossed the summit and began to descend towards Spanish Town. . The Pillar Jtos Creek murmured hundreds of feet below, \\\ the narrow canon, near the mouth of which, half hidden in shade-trees, is the hamlet of Spanish Town. Be- yond rolls the deep-blue waters of the broad Pacific, and Half-Moon Bay lies a few miles to the north- ward. I pass a wayside house where the yard is -Q IN THE MISTS OF THE PACIFIC. 3° full of goats and everything speaks of Spanish- Americanism. A woman with lustrous black hair and eyes, and oval, olive- hued face, comes out with her black shawl or rebosa, folded Andalusian fashion around her head and shoulders. The Moors left those eyes, and that oval face and tawny- olive skin, in Spain ; but the little girl who follows her has a fairer complexion, a sharper-cut face, and light-brown hair. Thus, little by little, we are conquering Spanish- America. At a little roadside grocery a whole family of Mex- ican or native Californians are in attendance. I called for a real's (ten cents) worth of apples, and they weighed me out four pounds ; one holding the scales, another putting in the apples in a pail which a third held, while the rest looked on. It took the whole family to sell just ten apples; but such is "el costumbre del pais, senor" — the custom of the coun- try, sir ; and who is to commit the sacrilege of inno- vation? Two miles above Spanish Town, at the toll-gate, is a small, neat farm, owned by an intelligent Amer- ican, past the meridian of life. As he came out to take the toll, I en^ao-ed him in conversation. He has one hundred and sixty acres, nearly one hun- dred of which are under cultivation. In the valley he raises beans, onions, fruit, etc., and on the hill- tops he has his early potato-fields, from which he sends to market the finest potatoes in December, January and February, after the lowland crops have become "old" and less salable. He has three acres of strawberries in full bearing. These he irrigates, SPANISH TOWN AND NEIGHBORHOOD. - Q and thus secures line crops all the year round. He sometimes gets as high as a dollar per pound for strawberries at Christmas and New Year's, and he estimates that the crop yields him, on an average, twenty cents per pound in coin the year round. He has no family, and wants to sell out and go to Santa Barbara, where he has relatives. He thinks his farm, with improvements, is worth forty dollars per acre. The potato and onion-fields he rents to a party of Portuguese. There is a family of Mexi- cans upon the upper end of his ranche, but most of his neighbors are Germans,, though the population of the town is about equally divided between native Californians, Americans and Europeans. His sole companion is a Chinaman, who carries on the straw- berry culture and does the housework, and is, as he told me, worth any other two men, though he gets but two thirds the' wages. He could not say much for the society of the neighborhood, nor can I. Spanish Town contains little to attract a stranger. Turning southward here, the road runs through a rich, sloping plain, between the ocean and the moun- tains, and for eight on ten miles passes through one continued grain-field. The country was parceled out at first in great ranches of many thousand acres, each held under Spanish or Mexican grants. These have been sold to Americans, and cut up to some extent into smaller portions, but the farms are still immense, and far too large for the most profitable cultivation. Barley and oats, principally the latter, are cultivated. The crop was cut months ago, but owing to the lack of " steamers," as the inhabitants 40 IN THE MISTS OF THE PACIFIC. here term the steam thrashing machine, most of it still lies in the fields unfathered. The straw be- comes blackened by the fog, but the grain does not seem to suffer much. Thrashers were at work all along the road, and great piles of grain in sacks waiting to be hauled to Half-Moon Bay and shipped to San Francisco, were seen in many fields. The harvesting is done mainly by extra hands hired by the day. I met dozens of them tramping along the dusty roads, with their blankets on their backs. They do not stay long in a place, but get from two to three dollars in coin and their board for such time as they work, and then move on. Some of the old California Mission Indians still reside here, and work in the fields ; and Chinamen are making their way on the farms and in the dairy. They get from fifteen dollars per month to nine dollars and fifty cents per week, and board themselves. A few get as much as two dollars per day in the harvest fields, and are highly spoken of by' the farmers, many of whom, however, are afraid to give them employ- ment, lest their fields of grain and stacks should be fired in revenge by the European laborers, who are savagely opposed to them. The farms in the hills are smaller and more closely cultivated. Onions, beets and mustard are largely grown. The great beets of California are among her vegetable wonders, and have often sorely taxed the credulity of Eastern people. Californian though I am, I must own up that there is something just a trifle like an imposition on outsiders in this matter of the production of these mammoth beets. This DOWN THE COAST. 41 is the way the thing is done. The largest beet in this soil may attain a weight of fifty or sixty pounds the first year ; I do not think any grow larger. One is selected, carefully dug up, so as not to in- jure the root, in the fall, and housed during the rainy season. Then it is replanted in the spring, and instead of going to seed, as it would if left in the ground all winter, continues growing, and in the fall it is again dug up and housed, having probably attained a weight of eighty or ninety pounds. Next year it grows perhaps to one hundred or one hun- dred and ten pounds — the largest on record weighed one hundred and eighteen pounds, and was raised in Santa Cruz county — but now it is "played out," in California parlance, and will not grow another year. How they manage to raise lettuce seven feet in circumference, and cucumbers five feet two inches long- and eight inches in circumference, such as are often on exhibition in the California Market, San Francisco, I do not know — but they do it. The soil here is wonderfully rich, and often, as I have seen myself, from ten to twenty feet in depth, of a black loam, like that of the western prairies. The road winds along the bold shore of the Pacific for miles — now passing over steep divides, and again descending to the bottom of precipitous canons. At times the view of the ocean, for a long distance up and down the coast, is unobstructed, and from one height I counted not less than fifteen whales spouting at intervals as they sported in the calm blue waters, or sought their accustomed food a 2 IN THE MISTS OF THE PACIFIC. along the edges of the kelp-fields, which in many places extend far out to sea. Whales have their parasites and minor annoyances as land-lubbers have, and sometimes they become so annoyed by the barnacles which fix themselves upon them that they run into shallow water and endeavor to rid themselves of their tormentors by rubbing their huge carcasses upon the sandy bottom. It not un- frequently happens that in so doing they venture too far in shore, and, being caught by the surf or the receding tide, are stranded and finally left to die high and dry upon the land. Every year whales are thus stranded on the beach in the vicinity of San Francisco, and their bones may be seen at fre- quent intervals scattered all along the shore from Point Lobos southward for many miles. Meeting by the way an old Mission Indian, who, as he told me, was born and had always lived near Pescadero, and could hardly speak a word of En- glish, though well posted in the Spanish tongue, I asked him how far it was to Pescadero. "Possibly a mile, or a league, or two leagues, senor." "Well, how far is it to Point Ano Nuevo?" "Oh, senor, it must be a very long way ! I think it is in the neighborhood of the other world!" I have never yet been able to get the remotest approximation to a correct statement of distance from a California Indian, those who were reared and educated by the old padres at the Spanish missions being as utterly ignorant on the subject as the diggers of the mountains, who never knew or cared to know any- thing beyond the condition of the grasshoppers on PESCADERO AND ITS SURROUNDINGS. 43 which they fatten in the summer season, and the acorn and pifion crops on which they subsist during the winter. After a ride of thirty miles from Crystal Springs, done at a gallop, up hill and down, nearly all the way, and in just four hours and ten minutes, I reached the little town of Pescadero, in a small but fertile valley some two miles from the ocean, a popular summer resort for San Franciscans, and a favorite head-quarters of the hunters and fishermen of the coast. The long ride had given me a savage appetite, and as the fog had drifted in from the ocean, and shut down cold and damp on the land- scape, a broiled trout dinner and a warm wood-fire never seemed more welcome than they did that evening at Pescadero. The population of Pescadero does not exceed three hundred souls, who depend on the lumber- mills in the great redwood forest, the dairies, the grain and potato ranches, and summer visitors from San Francisco, for life and trade. The heavy fogs, and cold, raw ocean winds are unfavorable to grapes and other fruits, but potatoes thrive wonder- fully, and are extensively cultivated on the rich bottom lands around the town. Half the " ground fruit" consumed in San Francisco comes from this section of the coast. An old ranchero told me that for ten years the average price of potatoes had been one dollar and twenty-five cents per hundred pounds, and the usual yield from one hundred to one hundred and twenty- five bags, at one hundred and twenty-five pounds each, per acre. The digging 4.4 IN THE MISTS OF THE PACIFIC is done by native Californians, or "greasers." Land, in the great ranches back on the road to Spanish Town, is worth from forty to fifty dollars per acre, but the potato lands, near this town, are worth one hundred dollars, or even more. A few old California Indians work in the fields quite faithfully after their fashion, but none of the old hands equal the Chinaman " year out and year in." Much lumber is hauled from the mountains, and, with potatoes, grain and vegeta- bles, is shipped for San Francisco from the embarca- dero at Pigeon Point, six miles south of Pescadercu My stay in Pescadero being limited, mine host of the Swanton House volunteered, Californian-like, to take me down the coast to see the sights. A six- mile ride over an open, rolling country, devoted chiefly to grazing, brought us to Pigeon Point, a famous place for wrecks, and a depot of the coast whalers. It gets its name from the wreck of the Carrier Pigeon, a noble clipper-ship which drifted in here one night in the winter of 1853-4, and was shattered to pieces upon the terrible reefs running out from the foot of the bold promontory. Here, on the high headland, are clustered some dozen cottages, inhabited by the coast whalers and their families. These men are all "Gees" — Portuguese — from the Azores or Western Islands. They are a stout, hardy-looking race, grossly ignorant, dirty, and superstitious. They work hard, and are doing well in business. As we rode up, two long, sharp, single-masted boats, with odd-looking sails, shot out to sea. On the Point, by the side of flag-staffs, on THE WHALES. 45 which signals were to be hoisted to guide the boats in their pursuit, crouched two of the party with their sea glasses, intently watching the boats and sweep- ing the horizon. Are there any whales about ? Oh, yes, plenty ! and the speaker handed us his glass. About three miles out was a large school of the black, hump back species sporting in the nearly smooth sea, rising to the surface to blow, showing their black backs, and going down again among the sardines on which they were feeding. The boats run out with sails set, and do not take in their canvas until a whale is harpooned. If a new school is discovered, the boats are signaled by the party on the Point. Looking through the glass we saw the boats run- ning for different whales. All was bustle and ex- citement on board, the harpooners standing in the bows ready to strike, and every man at his post^ One of the signal men could speak a little English, and thus soliloquized for our benefit : " E blow, e blow ! One close herd starboard boat ! Carraho, now he run ! Ze son of seacook, how he run ; dam a he ! Believe myself he get away !" Then, car- ried away by his feelings, he proceeded to curse in good Portuguese, honestly and squarely, for fifteen minutes, and I felt my respect for him rising almost to the point of admiration. Tired of watching, we at last started off to see what else there was of interest at the station. When we returned, near evening, the boats were far down on the edge of the horizon, and had appa- rently fastened to a whale, while another large *<5 IN THE MISTS OF THE PACIFIC. school was playing undisturbed within half a mile of the shore. The trypots were placed on the other side of the Point, and there we found a party of men busy extracting the oil from heaps of blubber ready cut up from a huge humpback whale ; flukes and wreck lay on the beach below. They were dripping and fairly saturated with the oil, and every- thing around was in the same condition. The stink- ing fluid had run down the face of the bluff to the water's edge, and the whole place was redolent ol the perfume. A row of casks filled with oil testified to the success of the business. The tryers told us that they had cut up twelve whales already that season, and had killed and lost ten more. The fall season usually begins in October, but that year the whales had come down from the Arctic regions a month or six weeks earlier, and business had opened good. Last year they caught only two humpbacks, the rest being " California grays." This year, thus far, the whales killed had all been humpbacks. A good big fellow will yield one hundred barrels of oil, but the average is perhaps thirty-five. Whale- fishing is carried on in this manner at San Luis Obispo, Monterey, and other points all along the ^coast down to Cape St. Lucas. On the hill I noticed a pile of the blubber scraps from which the oil had been boiled, which are used for lighting fires to guide the boats home on dark nights. Did it ever by any possibility occur to these guileless Gees, that a fire thus lighted at this high point on a dark night might possibly be mistaken for a ligMhouse light, and thus a noble vessel, freighted BAY AT PIGEON POINT. * j with precious lives, and freight liable to get badly scattered when cast ashore by the waves, be lured to destruction? There have been many wrecks along this rocky coast, and underwriters seldom secure much of the cargo. There are no real harbors between San Francisco and San Diego, about four hundred miles south, and very few places where a vessel can in the fairest weather run alongside a wharf to load or unload. At Pigeon Point there is a semicircular bay, par- tially sheltered from the northern winds, but the heavy swells rolling in from the southwest prevent any wharves being erected. Out about two hun- dred yards from the shore is a high monument-like rock, rising to a level with the steep rock bluff which half incloses the bay. From the bluff to the top of this rock stretches a heavy wire cable, kept taut by a capstan. A vessel rounding the reef runs into the sheltered cove under this hawser, and then casts anchor. Slings running down on the hawser are rigged, and her cargo lifted from her deck load by load, run up into the air fifty to one hundred feet, then hauled in shore, and landed upon the top of the bluff. Lumber, hay in bales like cotton, fruit, potatoes, vegetables, dairy products, etc., etc., are in like manner run out and lowered at the right moment upon the vessel's decks. If a southwester comes on she slips her anchor and runs out to sea till it is over. This system is in extensive use along the coast, though in some places lighters and tugs are employed to load and unload. This part of the coast has a terrible name, and 4 8 IN" THE MISTS OF THE PACIFIC may well be dreaded by sailors. Six miles south of Pigeon Point is Point Ano Nuevo (New Year). The shore between bends inward, and all along black reefs of rocks rear their ugly fangs, like wild beasts watching for their prey. A current sweeps in from Point Ano Nuevo toward Pigeon Point, and many a vessel has been drawn in in the fog, to be dashed on the rocks. Off Point Ano Nuevo is a desert island of three or four acres of sand and rocks, a favorite resort of sea-lions and sea-birds. On this island the United States government pro- posed to erect a lighthouse, but the owners of the great Spanish ranch of seventeen thousand acres, to whom it belongs, asked forty thousand dollars for a deed of it, — they bought the whole grant originally for about twenty thousand dollars, and have real- ized twice that sum from partial sales ; and so it was decided to place it on Pigeon Point, where a site equally as good was secured for five thousand dollars. Ultimately the demand for a site at Point Ano Nuevo, at something like a reasonable rate, was conceded, and there will soon be a lighthouse on both points. The most noted wrecks hereabouts have been as follows : i. The clipper-ship Carrier Pigeon, of eleven hundred tons, from Boston, wrecked at Pigeon Point in the winter of 1853-4, the vessel and cargo being a total loss, although the crew escaped. 2. The ship Sir John Franklin, from Baltimore, with the cargo of the Pennell, condemned at Rio de Janeiro ; lost at Point Ano Nuevo, six years ago ; captain, first mate, and eleven of the crew drowned. 3. The THE WRECKS AND THE WRECKED. 49 British iron bark Coya, from Newcastle, with coal and passengers ; wrecked between the two points, four years ago. No danger was suspected in this case, until in the early part of the night the vessel, supposed to be forty miles off shore, was discovered to be among the breakers. Before she could be put about she struck the reef, rolled over into the deep water beyond, and went down in an instant, carry- ing with her twenty-seven people, including three women. Two men and a boy, half naked, benumbed and exhausted, were cast upon the rocks, and reached a ranch, the only survivors of the thirty souls on board. 4. The ship Hellespont (British), from Newcastle, eleven hundred tons of coal, lost near Pigeon Point one night in the winter of 1869-70. Seven men perished, but a portion of the crew, naked, bleeding, bruised, and more dead than alive, succeeded in reaching the fishermen's station. On the sandy bluff at Point Ano Nuevo is an in- closure within which lie buried, side by side, forty of the victims of these terrible disasters. Others were removed by their friends, and one, the mate of the Hellespont, sleeps, undisturbed by the merry prattle of the children or the wild screams of the sea-gulls, beside one of the whalers' houses at Pigeon Point. " You see that grave right behind that house ?" said my companion. "That is where we buried the mate of the Hellespont. She went ashore in the night within a mile of the Point, and, owing to the roar of tne breakers, the whalemen knew nothing about it. One of the sailors, bleeding from many wounds, more dead than alive, and wholly naked, 5o IN THE MISTS OF THE PACIFIC. every rag having been torn from him in his buffet- ing with the waves, managed to crawl up the bluff, and, groping in the darkness, stumbled upon the trail leading to the Point. Just as the day was breaking, he had crept within sight of the cottages. One of the whalemen coming out met the poor fellow at the door, and raising the cry, 'A ghost! a ghost!' ran back with such speed as his trembling limbs would give him. The supposed ghost, seeing a chance for life, and being too cold to speak, staggered after him. In his terror the Portuguese stumbled and fell headlong upon the floor, and the shipwrecked mariner stumbled also and fell upon him. The other Gees, hearing the outcry, ran to the spot, and fell over the prostrate couple, and the horrible and grotesque were strangely mixed. At last the ghost related his story, and the frightened fishermen started down in search of the other survivors, two or three of whom were met crawling along the road. The bodies of others were lying on the beach, or tossed to and fro by the breakers, while the fragments of the wreck strewed the shore for miles. There is a telegraph station on the Point, communicating with the Merchants' Exchange in San Francisco and with the station at Pescadero. and the news of the disaster was soon known along the coast. We placed the body of the mate into a coffin, and asked the Portuguese to help us to bring it to the Point for burial, but the superstitious fellows would not touch the corpse for love or money. I coaxed, and pleaded, and appealed to their humanity, but all in vain. Then I swore that I would get even A SHIPWRECKED GHOST. r l on them. We went up there and commenced dig- ging a grave. When they saw what we were doing, they began to comprehend the situation, and so far conquered their prejudices as to offer to help us carry the corpse up the hill. ' Not much, darlings of my heart; I have changed my mind!' I said; and I had. I meant to give them a lesson which would last them a lifetime, or make them move their quar- ters. So three of us lugged it to this spot, and buried it beside the cottage, and his ghost has an- noyed them every stormy night since, and will pro- bably worry them as long as they stay here." Thus chatting, we rode on down the coast, and when abreast of Point Alio Nuevo, drove up to the door of the hospitable proprietor of Steele's Dairy, CHAPTER Til. IN THE MISTS OF THE PACIFIC. Steele's Ranch. — The Model Dairy of California. — Captain Graham. — A Semi -Tropical Garden. — Frightful Contest with a Grizzly. — Bear and for- Bear. — The True King of Beasts. — The Model of Conservatism. — How the Hunters lay for Bruin.: — A Foolhardy Feat. — An Adventure on the San Joaquin. — A Bear on a Spree. — Don't stand on Ceremony with a Beai. — How a California Bear entertained a Mexican Bull. — How Native Cali- fornians Lasso the Bear. — How a Yankee did it. — The Bear ahead. — Peb- ble Beach of Pescadero. — Cona. — The oldest Inhabitant. — Don Felipe Armas. — Don Salvador Mosquito. — The Man who was a Soldier.- A Hun- dred Years ago. — Catching Salmon Trout. — Shooting Sea-Liora ^W ; ld Scene on the Sea-Shore. Steele's is one of the largest dairy ranches on the Pacific coast. It is owned and run by the brothers Steele, formerly of Delaware County, New York. General Steele, who served in the Union army during the war, and the deputy-sheriff of Delaware County, who was murdered by the " Anti- Renters," some years ago, were brothers of the proprietors. There are two fine two-story frame houses on the ranch, a fourth of a mile apart, which, unlike the majority of houses on this part of the coast, are elegantly finished, surrounded with shade-trees and gardens, and provided with all the comforts of life. We found one of the Steeles at home. He told us that in the earlier part of the (5=) STEELE'S RANCH. 53 season they milked between six and seven hundred cows; but as the feed grows shorter with the ad- vance of the dry season, the number gradually dwindles down twenty-five to fifty per cent. As fast as the cows dry up they are sent to the moun- tains and allowed to remain until the rains commence, in November and December. The Steeles came here about nine years ago, and rented this ranch of seventeen thousand acres for six thousand dollars per annum, with the privilege of purchasing all south of the Gazos Creek for six dollars per acre. The ranch was granted under the Mexican Republic to old Captain Graham, a Cherokee Indian half- breed, formerly a Rocky Mountain trapper. He had no business tact, and old age and aguardiente com- bined had completely unfitted him for carrying on this estate, and the still larger and more valuable one known as Seyante, near Santa Cruz. Mortgages and lawsuits eat it all up, and it passed out of his hands for the beggarly sum of twenty thousand dollars. It was considered one of the most barren and unattractive localities on the coast, but the Steeles saw its capabilities, and settled upon it. They soon purchased seven thousand acres of the land in the vicinity of their present homes, and went into the dairy business on a large scale. Others imitated their success on a smaller scale, and there are now over fifteen hundred cows on the ranch. These are fed only on the native " wild oats," which in place of grass cover all the open country of Cali- fornia, but with proper effort vegetables could be raised, to double the milk-producing capacity of the 54 IN THE MISTS OF THE PA CIFIC. ranch. Alfalfa might flourish in some localities and thus largely increase the feed; but the long dry sea- son, extending from the first of May to November or December, is too much for the tame grasses of the A.tlantic States, and no improvement in that direc- tion appears practicable. The native wild oats, however, furnish both green feed and nourishing hay naturally, no cutting or housing being required. As the ground grows dry under the heat of the summer sun, the oats dry up and become of a bright golden color. All the nutritious properties are perfectly preserved, and so long as no rain falls upon this standing hay, it is eaten with avidity by the cattle and keeps them sleek and fat. When the first rain comes, the oats break down and fall upon the earth, and in a few weeks totally disappear, leaving nothing whatever for the cattle to feed upon until the seed, which during the summer has been sowing itself in the cracks and crevices of the earth formed by the drying up of the soil, and been trampled in and covered up by the hoofs of the animals, starts into new life and in a few days clothes all the hills in vivid green again. Six years ago the Steeles made, from one day's milk of their own cows, a cheese of the richest de- scription, weighing within a fraction of four thou- sand pounds (two tons), which they presented to the Sanitary Commission. It was exhibited in San Francisco until it had produced several thousands of dollars, and then cut up and sold at one dollar in gold per pound for the benefit of the cause. A cousin of the family, who lives with them, enjoys the A SEMI-TROPICAL GARDEN. rr rare distinction of being the only man in Californiy elected, in 1869, to the Legislature fairly and squarely on the Fifteenth Amendment issue. They find their business so profitable that they have bought another ranch of only forty-five thousand acres in San Luis Obispo County, which they were, then stocking. They intend to carry on both dairies, but the business of each will be kept separate, and the style of the firms will be " Steele Brothers of San Mateo," and " Steele Brothers of San Luis Obispo." For the prices realized for their butter and cheese — they are too far from the city to sell their milk — see the market quotations in the San Francisco dailies. Yet California imports immense quantities of butter and cheese annually, while there are still millions of acres of cheap, unoccupied grazing lands scattered all through the State, from San Diego to Del Norte, and from the coast to the far recesses of the Sierra Nevada. Mr. Steele asked us to walk back into the garden, and see what could be done in six years in the way of fruit- raising on land which had, until quite recently, been supposed fit only to raise jackass-rabbits and long-horned, worthless, and savage Spanish cattle. A little " arroyo" comes down from the canon in the mountains near the house, and makes a bend around the ground selected for the garden. Along the bank of this "arroyo" willows and other trees were planted to aid the large, scattered live-oaks which stood there in breaking the winds. Thus sheltered, the apple, pear, fig, plum, apricot, peach, soft-shelled almond, and other trees, grew up like weeds, and k6 IN THE MISTS OF THE PACIFIC. soon were loaded with luscious fruit. From one apple-tree, the second year after it was planted out, Mr. Steele picked two bushels of the finest apples. The pear-trees I found had every branch propped up separately, and on some the fruit would weigh at least four times as much as the entire tree, roots, trunk, branches, and leaves. The figs were covered with the second crop of the season, nearly ripe, and the plums were like great yellow balls of sugar and butter. All the fruit is perfect ; even the grapes, which flourish best in the hot, sunny valleys, being large and delicious. Every variety of vegetable seemed to flourish ; golden squashes and pumpkins covered the ground, and luscious melons lay ripening in the sun. Among the curiosities we noticed a bed of peanuts. These pets of the Bowery patrons grow luxuriantly in California, being largely culti- vated by the Chinese in Sacramento Valley, and are larger and better than any imported ; the tops look something like alfalfa. All this without irrigation or other cultivation than spading and hoeing, in the most inhospitable climate found in California below the snow-belt of the Sierra Nevada. The grizzly bear still prowls in the redwoods, and occasionally comes down to levy tribute on the rancheros. My friend showed me where two huge grizzlies were seen lying in an arroyo sunning them- selves only a few days before. The party who saw them had lost no cattle of that description, and he, in the expressive language of California, " got up and dusted" in the opposite direction as fast as his horse could carry him. And well he might. Mr. CONTEST WITH A GRIZZLY. 57 Steele pointed out where a fearful scene was enacted just above his garden in 1867. An old she-bear came down with her two cubs in the day-time and seized a hog. Two men employed on the ranch, both Portuguese, started to rescue the hog. One had a gun, the other only a garden mattock. They found her by the fence eating the hog, and yelled at her to drive her away. She accepted the chal- lenge, and with a growl dashed over the fence and after them. The man with the gun pointed it full- cocked at her head, but, as he afterward admitted, when he felt her hot breath in his face, became de- moralized, dropped the weapon and jumped over the fence. His companion followed his example, and they jumped back and forth for some minutes with the enraged brute in close pursuit. At length the man who had the mattock started to run across the field toward the house ; but the bear caught him, threw him down, bit him through the thigh, and then started after the other assailant. Had the wounded man feigned death he would have been saved ; but not understanding grizzly fighting, he jumped up and began shouting for help. At this she turned upon him more infuriated than ever, and, seizing him by the side, literally tore him in pieces, killing him in- stantly. The other man escaped. The next morn- ing the bear, bear-like, returned to finish the hog, and was shot by a party lying in wait for her. Three or four years ago a San Franciscan stay- ing at the Forest Home, on the mountains between Santa Cruz and San Jose, a few miles east of this place, was one day digging up a honeysuckle bush 58 IN THE MISTS OF THE PACIFIC. near the house, when he saw something stir in the bushes and gave it a poke with the hoe. A moment later the ladies saw him vault over the fence into the door-yard, with a grizzly at his heels. He man- aged to escape, but left a portion of his pantaloons behind as a keepsake. That night the family slept n the second story of the house with the windows fastened down. Almost every schoolboy in America is familiar with stories of the savage ferocity and immense strength of the grizzly bear of California. As a rule as I think I may have intimated elsewhere, hunters stories may safely be taken with some grains of allowance. The lion has generally been represented as the " King of Beasts," and numberless are the stories of his courage, strength, and ferocity. The truth is, the lion is nothing but a great overgrown cat, and his courage is just that of the cat on a large scale, and nothing more. A cat will fight when cor nered, from sheer excess of cowardice, but she always prefers running. Find the weight of a cat and that of a lion, and just so many times as the lion is heavier than the cat, just so much more fight and courage of the same character exactly you will find in him. But the stories of the dangerous char- acter of the grizzly, unlike those relating to the lion, are not and cannot be exaggerated. I know from observation that the oldest hunters are the most afraid of a contest with the grizzly, and take the greatest pains to avoid one. It is always the young, inexperienced hunter who sallies out half armed and alone to fight a grizzly ; and one dose THE TRUE KING OF BEASTS. eg is generally found quite enough to cure him of such folly. The plain truth is, that the grizzly is much better entitled to the title of King of Beasts than the lion. He fears neither man nor beast, and, instead of waiting to be attacked, will, if hungry or in any way out of humor, invariably become the attacking party whatever the odds against him. A lucky shot pen- etrating the heart, breaking the vertebra, or enter- ing the brain, will sometimes cause almost instant death ; but in ninety- nine cases out of a hundred the first shot only enrages and infuriates him, and renders him the most dangerous animal on earth to fall into the clutches of. The bear, like the hog, is " set in his ways," ob- stinate, and inclined to adhere, with unflinching per- tinacity, to established customs and habits. He never goes back on the traditions of his race. He is the true natural conservative, believes to the utmost in the wisdom of his ancestors, and hates innovation. He forgets nothing, and learns nothing from expe- rience. You can always count on his doing a cer- tain thing in a certain contingency ; as they say out west, "he averages well." He invariably buries his prey where he kills it, and returns at night to feed upon it. The knowledge of this fact has before now saved many a hunter's life. The man who has the courage and nerve to lie still as if dead, and never cringe when he is lifted by the bear's teeth, stands a chance of being buried under a pile of loose leaves and rubbish, and left for hours or until night ; but woe to him if he moves so much a finger before Oo IN ME MISTS OF THE PACIFIC. he knows that the bear is out of sight ; his fate is then certain. Rancheros who are annoyed by the killing- of their stock by grizzlies take advantage of this habit of the bear, and, on discovering where one has buried a steer, hog. or sheep, construct a plat- form high up on a large tree, if one is convenient, or dig a pit if no tree is near, and on the platform or in the pit await the bear's return at night, pre- pared to give him a volley from the largest and most formidable guns obtainable. I have often seen these platforms in the Sierra Nevada and Coast Rangt, and listened to the stories of the hunters who "went for" the grizzlies there. On the 14th of March, 1871, George W. Teel, a youth of seventeen years, employed as a stock- herder on the foothills of the Mount St. Helena range, only five miles from Calistoga, discovered the track of a grizzly near his camp, and, boy-like, deter- mined to lay for him. Six hundred yards from camp he dug a hole in the ground deep enough to wholly hide him, then hung a piece of venison on a tree near by, loaded his double-barreled gun with all the powder he dared place in it, and two-ounce slugs, and commenced his nightly vigil. About two o'clock in the morning he heard the snorting of a grizzly, and on looking up, he beheld, about eight feet off, two glaring eyes in the head of a large-sized bear. It was quite dark and foggy. The young man leveled his gun, took aim, and as he saw the bear raise his head, he fired, and the ball entered the animal's neck, breaking it, the slug ranging along the back and lodging under the skin. The HUNTING FOR EXPERIENCE. 6l bear was so close that the powder singed the hair on its breast. The grizzly had grasped in its teeth an oak bush, and in one leap fell dead at the feet of its captor. Young Teel, having been successful, retired to his camp contented. At daybreak he left his couch and went to the place where he had killed the animal, and to his surprise found he had killed a grizzly of the size of an ox, weighing fully eight hundred pounds. He was in luck. About the same time an experienced hunter in Southern California met with a terrible adventure, with more serious results. The affair is related by the Los Angeles Star, of February 19th, 1871: "John Searles, well known in this section of the State as an expert miner, left Soledad Canon a few days ago, with a couple of friends, on a hunting expedi- tion into the mountains north and east of La Liebre Rancho, which abound in deer and bear. Wednes- day evening, the party encamped at the foot of a large canon, and, leaving his friends, Mr. Searles took his rifle, a Spencer, and went up the canon hunting; about a mile from camp, he killed and dressed a grizzly. Judging from the fresh sign that bear was plenty, he went on up the canon, looking for a good place for a hunting camp. Half a mile from where he left his horse, in very thick brush, he came suddenly upon a large grizzly, breaking down the chemisal, in a thicket. After waiting in the trail a few minutes, with his gun ready, the bear emerged from the bush and made a rush at him. A ball from the Spencer knocked it down; but, almost immedi- 5 2 IN THE MISTS OF THE PACIFIC. ately rising, the bear — one of the largest kind — ■ closed with him. The Spencer missing fire three times, a terrible hand-to-hand combat ensued, the man fighting for life with his fists, and the bear fight- ing for death with teeth and claws. The unequal conflict was not prolonged. The bear, weakened by loss of blood which poured from the rifle-ball wound, left the man for dead, and crawling into the brush, bled to death. After the bear left, Mr. Searles, who had feigned death, arose and examined his wounds. A bite from the bear had broken his lower jaw in several places, one of his arms were broken, and terrible wounds in the breast and side were bleeding fast. In this condition he crawled to his horse, mounted and rode to camp. He was brought to this city last night, by his friends, and best sur- gical aid summoned to his assistance, although it is feared that his injuries are fatal." "If you play with the bear, you must take bear's play," is a common saying, but its full force and significance can only be appreciated by one who has had a tussle with a California grizzly. The Stockton Reptiblican of March 14th, 1871 — the very day on which both the last related affairs occurred — gave the following account of a grizzly fight which occurred in the Valley of the San Joa- quin a few days previously: "W. D. Fowler and George Day were out hunting in the hills near Oris- temba Creek, on the west side of San Joaquin River, in Stanislaus county, and came upon a large female grizzly bear, which they commenced firing at. The bear retreated slowly, and finally went to her lair AD VEN7 URE ON THE SAN JOAQUIN. £ ^ in some underbrush. The men kept up a steady fire at her at long range, the bear fighting desper- ately, tearing the brush and breaking limbs, but re- fusing to leave her position. After awhile, they noticed her carry off, one at a time, two small cubs and hide them in the bush. Finding their range too lone to be effective, the hunters undertook to reach a position nearer the bear by going around a hill, and just when they were ascending the knoll to get a sight of her, she suddenly came over the brow and dashed at them in the most ferocious manner When discovered, she was so near them that escape was impossible, and the men stood their ground. On she came, tearing up the bushes and biting the shrubs. When within ten feet of Fowler he fired, and the shot broke her neck. She fell, and a shot from Day's rifle passed through her heart. It was a narrow escape. The hunters captured the two cubs the mother had hid in the brush, and another, which still remained in the nest. The two cubs hidden in the brush were colored precisely alike, while the one remaining in the nest was somewhat darker, from which the hunters concluded that the old bear they killed had only secreted her own young, and that the one remaining in the nest be- longed to another bear and another family." In the spring of 1869, a grizzly of the largest size "ranched" in the San Andreas Valley, near the new reservoir of the Spring Valley Water Company, — from which San Francisco is supplied, — within fifteen miles of the Golden City, for several weeks. No- body about there had lost any bears, and nobody 64 IN THE MISTS OF THE PACIFIC. went after him, so he fattened on the luxuriant clover and wild oats until the range began to give out, and then leisurely departed for the mountains. No one asked him to come, and nobody cared to delay his departure. The grizzly is susceptible of domestication, but his moods are varied even then. A few years ago, while a museum was being moved from one part of San Francisco to another, old Samson — who chawed up " Grizzly Adams" once upon a time and rendered him beautiful for life — got out of his cage and took possession of the lower part of the city. A crowd of excited men and boys were soon at his heels, endeavoring to corral him, but for a long time with- out success. At length, tired of picking up damaged fruit from the gutters, upsetting ash-barrels and swill- barrels, and frightening all the women and children on the street out of their seven senses, he took refuge in a livery stable, where he was speedily sur- rounded and cornered. A number of men formed a hollow square around him with pitchforks, and an Irishman with a rope formed into a noose crawled up within reach of the beleaguered animal, and would have lassoed him, but for the fact that he was afraid to attempt it. "Why don't you slip it over his nose so that he can't bite ? " shouted a by- stander to him. " Well, you see I would, but thin I ain't acquainted with him jist!" was the hesitating reply. " Oh, never mind being acquainted with him ; don't stand on ceremony with a bear. Just take off your hat and introduce yourself!" was the jeering rejoinder ; and a roar of laughter from the entire THE BEAR AND THE BULL. 65 crowd testified to their keen appreciation of the joke. In January, 1870, I saw that same bear in the Plaza de Toros, in the city of Vera Cruz, Mexico, dig a hole large enough to hold an elephant, take a bull which had been set to fight him in his paws as if he were an infant, carry him to the pit, hurl him into it head foremost, slap him on the side with his tremendous paws until his breath was half knocked out of his body, and then hold him down with one paw while he deliberately buried him alive by raking the earth down upon him with the other. Samson had not a tooth to bite with at that time, they having been in the course of years and many fights worn down to the gums ; but his strength was that of an elephant, and his claws, eight inches in length, curved like a rainbow and sharp as a knife would enable him to tear open anything made oi flesh and blood as you or I would tear open a banana. I am satisfied that an average grizzly could at any time whip the strongest African lion in a fair stand- up fight, while a full-grown bull is no more to him than a rat is to the largest house-cat. ., The grizzly is becoming scarce in some parts of the State, but he is still found in great numbers in the Coast Range Mountains, from San Diego to Del Norte. The Mexican or native Californian vaqtieros in Santa Barbara and neighboring counties, riding out three or four together on their fleet, well-trained caballos, will without fear attack a grizzly, lasso him from different directions, and not only conquer him, 5 55 IN THE MISTS OR THE PACIFIC. but actually so tie him up and entangle him as to eventually tire him out, and bring him into the town an unresisting prisoner. But it is not every man who can do that little trick. The natives relate with pardonable exulta- tion the story of a Yankee who came to California in early days, and soon acquired the trick of throw- ing the lasso with considerable dexterity. Hearing others talk of lassoing the grizzly, he started out full of confidence, to show them that he could do what any other man could do in that line. He soon raised a bear, threw the lasso with unerring aim, and reined back his trembling steed to give the brute an astonisher; when the rieta — which is attached al- ways to the pommel of the saddle — came up taut. Judge of his astonishment, my little friends, when that bear quietly assumed a sitting position, took hold of the rieta, and commenced to draw it in, hand over hand ! The hapless descendant of the Pilgrim Fathers stuck to the horse and saddle until he saw the slack all drawn in, and the bear and horse com- ing rapidly together, — with what result could not be for a moment doubted, — then hastily descended and hunted a tree, abandoning the horse to the under- writers. He had learned only half of the trick. Two skillful men, operating from opposite sides, can master a bear and choke him between them ; but with only one man, one horse, and one bear, it is " bear and for bear " all the time. Returning from the Steele Brothers' dairy at Point Alio Nuevo, we passed the famed " Pebble Beach of Pescadero," a great resort, especially for PEBBLE BEACH OF PESCADERO. 67 ladies and children, in the summer season. Two ledges of sharp, jagged rocks jut out into the ocean about two hundred and fifty yards apart. Between them extends a sandstone bluff some thirty feet in height, in front of which stretches the beach some twenty to fifty feet in width at high or low tide. The beach is composed wholly of pebbles, from the size of a grain of wheat to that of a good-sized wal- nut. They are of all colors — white, red, brown, yellow, green, and variegated. Those of a beauti- ful opaline hue are most plentiful, and all are highly polished by attrition. Plain agates, moss-agates, cornelians and greenstones abound ; and it is claimed that the more precious stones, including diamonds and rubies, are sometimes met with. The wife of Francisco Garcia, a well-known saloon-keeper on Montgomery Street, in San Francisco, has a genuine diamond which she found here, but I am not certain that it was placed there by purely natural agencies Hundreds of tons of the pebbles are washed up by every storm, and it is supposed that there is a layer or stratum of soft rock or clay in which they are imbedded, extending out into the sea from beneath the sandstone. Every day, in summer, many ladies and children go down to this beach pebble-hunting, carrying their lunch-baskets with them. They lie down at full length upon their faces on the drifts of polished pebbles, and with a stick dig down into the mass in search of special beauties. A quart of fine ones is a good day's work, and a lady of unusualiy fastidious taste will frequently work all day for a cupfull. Collections of these pebbles may be seen 6$ IN THE MISTS OF THE PACIFIC. in most of the better class of houses in San Fran- cisco, and along the coast, though they cannot be considered as of any great value. I walked along the beach, but did not see any diamonds, and filled my pockets at random. Some of the moss-agate and similar stones make really handsome jewelry when cut and set in gold. Santa Cruz, lower down the coast, has also a pebble beach, but it is not equal to this at Pescadero. . At the beach I saw one of the characters of the locality — Cona, an immense Newfoundland dog. One day a little girl picking pebbles was caught by a huee roller from the Pacific, and carried out into the roaring surf. Cona dashed in, caught her by the hair, and, after a stout struggle, brought her ashore alive. Of course Cona became a hero at once, and was duly lionized and spoiled. He en- joyed his dignity for some time, but eventually, finding himself neglected, he determined, by a bold stroke, to regain his popularity. Starting off for the beach, he saw a lady out swimming. He at once rushed in, seized her by the hair, and, in spite of her frantic resistance, landed her on the beach. He has become a necessary nuisance, and now insists on rescuing every man, woman, and child whom he catches swimming. He was looking for somebody to rescue when we came along there — but looked in vain ; it was not a good day for rescuing, and he was sad at heart and dejected of mien. The age attained by the native Spanish-American — and usually part Indian — inhabitants of this coast is truly marvelous. I never knew but one of them THE OLDEST INHABITANT. gg to die, and he might have lived to a green old age had he not been knocked down and run over by a runaway flour-mill truck team, on Pine street, in San Francisco, in 1868. He was one hundred and four years old when he was thus prematurely cut off. It is an undoubted fact that Cimon Avilos, now or recently living at Todos Santos Bay, Lower California, was one of the military guard who pre- sented arms when Padre Junipero Serra raised the cross at the Mission San Diego, in July, in the year of our Lord and Master 1 769. This old conquistador had been a soldier in the Spanish army several years before that event, so that his age to-day can be hardly less than one hundred and twenty-five years. I have half a notion to go down there some day and get the jovial young fellow to come up to San Francisco, and take a little pasear over the Pacific Railroad. At Pescadero the claim to being "the oldest inhabitant" is at issue between Don Salvador Mosquito, a Mission Indian, and Sefior Don Felipe Armas, a Californian of Spanish parent- age. Armas remembers that when King Kameha- meha I., of Hawaii, found that the cattle which had grown up wild on his islands had become an un- bearable nuisance, and sent over to this country for vaqueros to kill them off — a historical fact — he, Armas, was selected as one of the party. He was then said to be thirty-five years of age, but so many years have since elapsed that he " has lost the run of them entirely." The number of his immediate descendants is still increasing at the rate of one yearly. Salvador Mosquito was baptized under an- IN THE MISTS OF THE PACIFIC. 7° other name, but the stout-built Mission in which the ceremony was performed has long since crumbled into dust, and the vaqueros, who, under the direc- tion of the Holy Fathers (also dead), went out to lasso him and bring him in for the glory of God, have for many a year been hunting ethereal cattle on phantom steeds, over the ranchos of the blessed. I saw him the other day. He came down to the grocery to get a bottle of whisky, to which he is very partial when he cannot get milk, which is usually the case. This antidiluvian joker is always as dry as a fish. They trust him at the grocery until his bill amounts to two or three dollars, and then demand the coin. Lifting his hands, with the expression of a dying saint, the old rascal ejaculates, " Yomuy pobre,scfior! Yo tcngo nada, nada, nada/ seuor/" with solemn earnestnesss and every appearance of perfect hon- esty. But the clerk invariably goes for him in the most business-like manner. Placing his elbow against the venerable patriarch's windpipe, he pushes him back against the wall, and, bringing the pressure up to about the point of one hundred and sixty pounds to the square inch, gradually cuts off his supply of breath and consequent power of resistance ; then running the other hand into his pocket produces a more or less well- filled purse, from which he repays the es- tablishment and squares the account. Then Don Salvador denounces the act as a "damned Yankee trick," goes out in front of the store, spits in the dust, mixes up a little mud, in which he dips his finger, and making crosses and other cabalistic signs upon the door, and windows, and walls, calls down the \ 1 1 m <\w\ x f'KWp^r,:,^^ DON SALVADOR MOSQUITO. y T vengeance of an offended Heaven on the accursed o tienda and everything therein. "May its walls fall out, its roof cave in, its contents be ground to powder, and its site be given over, as a last crown- ing curse, to the everlasting habitation and proprie- torship of the worthy descendants of the chief robber, son of a priest and a woman without virtue, who now occupies it!" Then he goes home with a heart full of wrath and righteous bitterness. Next morn- ing he returns to see the ruins, is duly astonished at seeing the place stand unharmed, goes in and commences a new account. Mosquito appears to be a man of strong but transitory prejudices. His tribe many years ago dwindled down to some forty or fifty, who, under the command of the chief, Pom- ponio, made their headquarters in the redwooa forest above Pescadero, near to the source of the stream now bearing his name. From thence they made periodical forays on the ranchos below ; but as the good Fathers had caught and " converted " all their female friends, they finally went down to the old Mission Santa Clara or San Jose — I am not cer- tain which — and, breaking into the corral one nieht. carried off a "mahala" apiece from under the very noses of their pious guardians. For this daring act of sacrilege they were pursued by the Spanish soldiers to their mountain fastness and exterminated. Mosquito not being big enough for slaughter was not killed, but was caught and baptized. He is a buen Christiano, especially when about half-full of whisky. I have calculated the number of red pep- pers he must have eaten since that time, and the j 2 IN THE MISTS OF THE PA CI TIC. aggregate is something more bulky than Mount Diablo, and it would take more figures to express it than are required in the annual exhibit of our national debt. "Pescadero" is the Spanish for "fishery," and the name is indicative. The creeks which come down from the mountains all alone: this coast swarm with the spotted trout of California, and afford fine sport in the early part of the season. In places along their banks, the honeysuckle bushes and other shrubs and vines form a chapparal so dense that you must wade for miles to whip the stream ; but one hundred, two hundred, or even three hundred trout are often basketed in a single day's fishing by one individual. It does not rain here from April until the last of November or December ; but as the days become shorter, and the sun's rays less powerful, the evaporation which caused the streams to dwindle to mere strings of detached ponds de- creases, and all over the State, especially in the Coast Range, the rivers commence to rise. Thomp- son, a hospitable landlord, took me down to the mouth of the Pescadero for a little sport. We sent a Mexican after worms for bait. The Mexican sent a negro, and we sent a Chinaman after the negro, and eot them all at last. The row down the creek was short. We saw hundreds of mallards and teal, which we could not shoot, because the law forbids it — very properly — until the 15th of the month, and large flocks of long-billed curlew and other birds, such as crows, buzzards, gulls, etc., etc., which we did not want to kill. There is a bar at the mouth of the SHOOTING SEA LIONS. j, creek, and we chained our boat to a high rock inside it and walked down to the ocean. The shores were lined with drift, trunks of great pine and redwood trees, timbers of wrecked ships, etc., etc., and the scenery was wildly romantic. We passed the fester- ing carcasses of half a dozen great sea lions, which had been killed by a fishing party with Henry rifles some weeks before. The fish come into the creek with the tide, and bite best before the ebb com- mences. If the sea lions who cover the rocks just outside, follow them into the creek, the fish all run out — and there is no more sport that day. So the fishermen shoot some of the sea-lions to make the rest leave. Before we reached the mouth we saw two wolves on the opposite shore, running around by the edge of the breakers and playing like dogs. One ran off when he saw us, and the other lifted up his nose and voice, and treated us to the most vivid illustration imaginable of " The wolfs lone howl on Onalaska's shore," and then followed his companion. As we rounded the bluff we saw some rocks just off shore covered with sea-lions. It was low tide, and we could run out to within fifty yards of them. I had a large- sized Smith & Wesson revolver, a capital weapon for such use, and as they threw up their heads to look at us, I sent a bullet into the side of a bie spotted fellow who was lying high up and presented a good mark. The ball struck him with a dull thud, and as he rolled off into the waves the whole herd went splashing after him. Half a dozen of them y< IN THE MISTS OF THE PACIFIC. swam down in a line to within twenty or thirty yards of us, and looked at us with their great lus- trous brown eyes, whether in sorrow or in anger we could not tell, until I hit one on his head, and as the bullet glanced off, he disappeared with a grunt and porpoise-like plunge. Thompson took the pistol, and as one rose again fired and hit him squarely in the mouth. He shook his head from side to side, as if blind with pain, and then went down, leaving great dark spots in the water. They all started off then southward, and I was not sorry. Inveterate sportsman that I have been from my youth up, I cannot get over the feeling that the killing of de- fenseless creatures like these, and allowing their bodies to rot on the beach, is something akin to murder. The rocks we stood on, arid which are covered at hi^h tide, were incrusted with mussels of immense size. Some of them measure twelve inches in length, and Thompson tells me that he has seen them fifteen inches long. They are fat and luscious, and a few epicures come down to the coast every season to indulge in clam-bakes and mussel-roasts ; but this species of shell-fish is so common, and con- sequently cheap, that not one in ten of the people of California ever eat them. In holes in the rocks, filled with pure sea-water, we saw curious things like great sunflowers with bright-green petals. These we could not detach from the rocks, and at one touch they would curl up into a slippery ball with all the petals hidden inside. We went back to our boat as the tide came boom- ;--;•. , SPORT ON THE SEA-SHORE. 75 ing in, and prepared to fish for salmon-trout, as they are called ; really they are yearling and two-year- old salmon. They will bite at a worm, spoon, or iiy, but best at worms. I had hardly put in my hook before a noble fellow made the line fairly hiss through the water for a few minutes. Then we drew him, panting and exhausted with his struggles, alongside the rocks, and with a landing net got him into the boat. He was twenty inches in length, and the handsomest fish I ever caught. Eight- and ten- pounders are common, and they are the most de- licious fish for frying or broiling which ever swam the sea. Great crabs came in also with the tide, and we dipped several of them out with our net. In two hours we corralled fourteen salmon-trout7 losing several more by hooks breaking, and then, the slack-water coming- on and the fish ceasing to bite with avidity, hoisted sail and went swiftly glid ing back up the stream to the hotel. It was, all in all, the best morning's sport I have ever enjoyed in my life, and I have shot and fished from the Red River of the North to the Rio Grande, and from tne Atlantic to the Pacific. CHAPTER IV. PESCADERO TO SANTA CRUZ. Down the Coast toward Santa Cruz. — The Moss and Shell Beaches of Pes- cadero. — A Disgusted Hunter.— A Grizzly BeaT Procession. — A Mutual Surprise and Double Stampede. — The Bear Fever. — The Buck Fever and Prairie-Hen Fever. — How Jim Wheeler Killed the Buck.— -How Old S. killed Three at one Shot. A Spanish-American Gentleman of Scien- tific Attainments and Undoubted Veracity. — View of the Bay of Monte- rey and the Valley and Mountains of Santa Cruz. Pescadero numbers amonQf its attractions a "Moss Beach," where the ladies who visit the place go to gather the beautiful, delicate, many-hued sea-mosses which are found in such abundance all along- the Pacific Coast, but in highest perfection on the shores of Central California. These mosses are torn loose by the storms, and thrown ashore by the tides in great abundance in some localities, this " Moss Beach" being- one of them. The ladies gather them at low tide, strip them from the glutinous, leather- like substance to which they are found adhering, and place them in salt water, to be kept fresh until they are ready to dry them. The delicate sprays, with fibers finer than any silk, are with infinite labor spread out with pliers, or other small instruments, upon the open leaves of an old ledger or other book of hard paper, and pressed carefully while (/6) SHELL BEACH OF PESCADERO. - - drying. When fully dried they are taken off the paper carefully, and cleaned with a soft brush to remove any mold or other blemishes, and are then ready for use in the preparation of moss-baskets, pictures, etc., etc. Nothing can be more beautiful than the work thus produced by ladies of taste, and no special teaching or experience is required to en- able them to do it well. These mosses, when dried ready for use, readily command high prices at the East and in California, the demand being always large. There is also a "Shell Beach" in the vicinity of Pescadero, where beautiful sea-shells are gathered. The finest shell on the Pacific Coast is the great abalone (pron. "ab-a-/ I and pitch like a ship in a cross sea with a head wind. But the Doctor is game when his blood is up, and it was at the boiling point just then. Holding the rein and grasping the pommel of the saddle at the same time with one hand, he swung his heavy Henry rifle with the other, bringing it down at every swing with vindictive energy upon the head of the accursed brute, whack! whack! whack! and thus he continued to encourage him all the way to San Rafael, a dis- tance of some three miles. As the wrath of the Doctor rose, so did his pantaloons, the bottoms of which were soon riding in triumph above the tops of his boots, and essaying, with every prospect of suc- cess, a flight above his knees. The Doctor hung to the saddle and the rifle, and allowed minor matters to take their course. Mousey seemed to rather enjoy the situation, and kept close upon Whitey's heels, while Juanita, thinking it was a race for grand cash, went in to win or die. My foot coming in contact with Lloyd's horse was knocked out of the stirrup, and in attempting to replace it, I dropped the rein, which the gun in my hand prevented me from regaining, and I was at sea rudderless and drifting helpless be- fore the storm. A gang of Chinese laborers were cutting a ditch alongside the turnpike, and seeing us coming, they ran up the side of the road, swinging their broad-brimmed bamboo hats, and making the air ring with shouts, beside which the note of the pea- cock on the wall in springtime is as the melody of the spheres. Two stage coaches filled with passen- gers had left the embarcadero ahead of us, bound for , co TAMALPAIS. San Rafael, and as we approached them, the drivers kindly reined the teams out of the track to give us a clear field, while all hands lent us their assistance in the shape of three rousing cheers and a tiger. I am always thankful for human sympathy and encourage- ment, properly expressed and at the proper time, but I would at that moment, had I been consulted, have preferred that the demonstration made by the pas- sengers in those coaches should have been a trifle less ostentatious and energetic, and possibly post- poned altogether for a day or two. I have a dim recol- lection of hearing the Doctor give expression to a wish to see the entire party of them roasting somewhere, and of not feeling shocked thereat, although, as I am bitterly opposed to everything bordering on slang and profanity, I suppose I was in duty bound to feel shocked at his remark ; but I was very busy at the moment, and somehow I did not. I don't think a three-mile race-track was ever got over in less time than it took us to make the run from the embarcadero to San Rafael after the second start. The hospitable citizens of San Rafael saw us coming, with a cloud of dust spinning out in our wake like the tail of a comet, and with one accord turned out to greet us. They appeared to be apprehensive that we might go right on to the next town without stopping, and to ensure a different result they ranged themselves in a line across the road, brandished hands, arms, hats, and everything else they could lay hold of at the moment, shouting, as with one voice, whoa! Whitey and Mousey "whoaed" so suddenly that their riders were A FRESH START. T - ,, 1 J 3 enabled to dismount without an effort; but Juanita having naught save her own sweet will to guide her since I had lost the rein, turned aside, went through a picket-fence, caromed on a market- vegetable cart which stood in the field, and went down with a crash which sounded in my sensitive ears like that which will in due time announce the final dissolution of the universe. When I recovered my senses I was sit- ting in a potato -patch, solitary in my glory, like Marius, .with the ruins of Carthage around me. Thus we made our triumphal entry into San Rafael. We repaired to the hotel, bound up and anointed our smarting wounds, sent out a party to gather in our traps, which had been scattered all along the road, then held a council of war. We did not feel much like going forward, in truth, but then we were ashamed to go back, and advance we must. With much in- quiry and diligent search, we found a native who knew the trail to the top of Tamalpais, and was will- ing, for a consideration, to pilot us there next day. • The sum demanded for his services was more than he had honestly earned before in his entire lifetime, but we needed him, and were at his mercy. Sunrise saw us all in the saddle. We found that during the night, lumps of the size of acorns, hickory nuts, even black walnuts, had grown on those sad- dles just where we found it most inconvenient to have them, but were forced to grin and bear the infliction as best we migfht. After a half-mile ride through the fields, we came in sight of a flock of quail running along in the road ahead, and a halt along the entire . - . TAMALPAIS. *54 line was ordered. Lloyd, having the biggest gun, was ordered to dismount and deploy as skirmisher. With trailed shotgun he crept through an acre or two of dusty chaparral, and came to a halt at last on the flank and within twenty yards of the unsuspecting enemy. We saw him rise slowly and deliberately, bring his murderous weapon to bear, take deadly aim — it seemed to us, waiting there in breathless expec- tation, that it took him an hour at least to do it — then discharge both barrels at once. There was a shock and concussion like the explosion of a mine, a deep reverberation rolling away and dying in a thousand echoes in the gorges of the mountain. But the gunner, where was he? Lying prone upon his back in the bushes, kicking up as much dust as is raised by an ordinary threshing machine in full opera- tion, as he kicked right and left in his agony .When he arose at last his upper lip was of the thickness of a fifty-cent sirloin steak, and his nose was bleeding profusely. He ventured the opinion that he must have been .stung by hornets while he was down. If such was the case, it was a very unmanly and cow- ardly thing for the hornets to do; that is all I have to say on the subject. When the shot from his gun struck the dust in the road and raised it in a cloud, I looked to see at least a dozen quail lying in the agonies of death in the road, as it subsided. In place thereof I saw the entire covey on the wing for the chaparral higher up on the mcvntain^side. There were plenty of feathers in the road, however, which showed that he must have startled them considerably. A KNOWING DOG. j„ As next in rank I then took up the fight, and dis- charged both barrels at the flying enemy, as I sat on horseback, Juanita dancing a break-down jig as I did so. One bird came down with a crippled wing, but made tracks for the bushes the moment it touched the ground. Before he reached cover, the Doctor, who represented the artillery, sent half a dozen bul- lets from his Henry rifle whkzing after him, making it very lively indeed for him, but not even knocking out a feather. Just then a ranchero's dog came trot- ting down the road, and calling him to us, I pointed to the clump of chaparral in which the wounded quail had taken refuge, clapping my hands and shout- ing "sic him! sic him!" with all my might at the same time. Thus encouraged, our volunteer corps went in. and to our infinite satisfaction we heard that miserable quail piping like a sick chicken in a moment more. "We've got him! We've got him!" we shouted in chorus. We were in error aorain; the dog had got him, and a brief observation of his movements satisfied us that he meant to keep him too. The infamous brute absolutely had the audacity to walk out of the bushes with our quail in his mouth, right before our eyes, and refusing with a savage growl to surrender it to me, trot deliberately off down the road, toward the residence of his master. "Here, doggy! Come, doggy! O, the nice doggy! pretty doggy!" etc., we repeated in the most persuasive and endearing accents, only to provoke his visible contempt, and increase the derisive elevation of his vertebrae and the rate of his speed. What kind of j £ TAMALPAJS. an education must such a dog have had? let me ask in all seriousness. The Doctor could stand it no longer, but drew a bead and let drive a bullet full at his head. The bullet went just wide enough of the mark to accomplish the desired result. Drop- ping the quail with a savage growl he darted off on a run, howling and yelping with the full power of his lungs at every jump. To corral that quail, our first trophy, was the work of a moment. It is safe to say that we lost no time in wringing his neck after our hands were on him. Then a change came over the spirit of our dream. Our firing and the subsequent howling of the base, uno-rateful cur, had attracted the attention of his baser owner, and he put in an appearance very suddenly and unexpectedly. Flourishing a hayfork threaten- ingly, he demanded to know which thief had been trying to kill his valuable and intelligent "animal." Lloyd, who had just concluded the operation of washing his face in a spring, thereby apparently re- peating the miracle of Cana, feeling that this was adding insult to injury, volunteered in clear and forci- ble language to "put a head on him," then and there, in three seconds, if he "would just lay down that pitchfork." "If the head you would put on me would resemble the one you carry around, I would sooner be shot down dead on the spot, and be out of misery at once, than take it! You look as if you were in the murder line, anyhow, and perhaps you might as well go right on with your infamous work as it is!" was the delicate and gentlemanly UP THE MOUNTAIN. T - - 1 j/ reply of the irate tiller of the soil. We — the Doctor and myself — argued the case more temperately, and eventually the aggrieved owner of that lop-eared cur became so far mollified as to accept of a drink from the bottle of new whisky, which we had procured at San Rafael, after our first disaster on the road. When he took the bottle from his lips, his eyes were fall of tears, his lips were purple, and he gasped con- vulsively for breath. We felt that we were avenged, and, remounting, rode silently away up the trail, carrying our dead and wounded with us. Out of the dusty carriage-road, at last we entered the narrow bridle-trail, which winds up the steep mountain-side, through the rocky malpais, covered with wide fields of the bitter chemisal, which spreads over the whole upper part of the mountain. This bitter shrub, of the leaves of which no living creature will eat, grows only on ground which will support no',hing else, and is worthless for every purpose save that of holding the earth together. The sun was well up in the heavens and the air growing oppres- sively warm, when we passed above the timbered belt, and entered this chemisal country. We halted and looked back. In the southeast, San Francisco, lying overstretched, a tawny giant upon the gray hills of the peninsula, showed dimly through the veil of yellow dust, dun-colored smoke, and thin, lu- minous vapor which overhung it. Down to the south- ward, almost at our feet, lay the Golden Gate, the Presidio of San Francisco, and the straits leading up from the ocean to the Bay of San Francisco, with the j ^3 TAMALPAIS. rock fortress of Alcatraz presenting its tier above tier of black cannon, standing like the sentinel at the gate- way, keeping grim watch and ward at the western portal of a mighty land. A huge, black- hulled steamer was heading out through the Golden Gate into the blue Pacific, bound for the Columbia, Victoria, Mexico, Panama, or possibly to far-off lands on the other edge of the world, beyond our western horizon. White sails gleamed here and there over the whole Bay of San Francisco, and over its broad surface white-hulled ferry and river steamers could be seen plowing their way. The Bay of San Pablo was a duck-pond at our feet — the Straits of Carquinez dwindling away to a mere silver thread in the distance — and the Bay of Suisun only a whitey-brown patch in the landscape farther north. Oakland, and all her sister towns along the eastern shore of the Bay of San Francisco, looked out here and there from the midst of embowering trees. Mount Diablo, clad in garments of dun and straw color, rose high into the blue sky on the eastward, seeming to ascend as we ascended, and grow taller and more gigantic at every step ; following us up, as it were, and bullying us as we went, as if determined that we should not be permitted to look down upon him nor receive a diminished idea of his importance. North- ward and northeastward, stretching out leagues on leagues from his base, were the wide, dark tule swamps, and half-submerofed islands of the Sacramento and San Joaquin, bordered by bright, straw-colored val- leys, stretching away to the point where the dark green line ot the summits of the Sierra Nevada melted into A FINE PICTURE. I rg and blended with the blue cloudless sky of autumn, upon the farther verge of the horizon. We looked down upon the homes of two hundred thousand toil- ing, active and busy people. The homes of millions of happy, contented, abundantly blessed people, will in a few years fill that broad land on which we gazed with deep and silent admiration that morning. If I were a painter, I would unroll my canvas at that point, and paint you such a picture as you should stand before and gaze upon with unspeakable delight from morn to night. I am not — more is the pity ! For half an hour the glorious scene held us enchanted; then the destructive element in our nature asserted its supremacy again, and we began to talk of deeds of blood once more. " Manuel, when we engaged you as our guide, you promised on the honor of a descendant of conquering Castile, and the faith of a Christiano, to show us at least the track of a grizzly bear! Do it !" Manuel, with a brow slightly clouded, arose slowly, mounted his horse a little hesitatingly, and led us on- ward up the steep acclivity. Half a mile brought us to a saddle-back, on one side of .which there was a narrow grass-plat. Looking carefully along the other side, among the chemisal, broken rocks, and coarse gravelly soil, he discovered at length a track, at which he pointed in silent triumph. A painter desiring to catch the smile of benign ecstacy which illumined the countenance of the beloved disciple, would have found fame and fortune in the face of Manuel at that moment, had he the talent to catch the expression, i6o TAMAI.PAIS. transcribe it faithfully, and hand it down to a devout and admiring posterity. Few and short were the words we spoke. The Doctor, with countenance grave and stern, refilled the magazine of his rifle with cartridges, and borrowed Lloyd's revolver. When I make my appearance upon the boards in the great character of "William Tell," I shall recall to mind the attitude and expression of the Doctor at that mo- ment ; and with such a model have never a fear but that the gods in the gallery will bestow their applause until the roof rings again. Lloyd took up a position immediately in rear of the Doctor, with his teeth firm set, and his double-barreled No. 8 stub -and -twist grasped pretty firmly in both hands. For myself, I determined that, come what might, I would not see the poor horses victimized for our folly, and I would stay by them, and get them out of danger as quickly at their legs could carry them, on the first appearance of the infuriated grizzly. One of the most prominent features of my character has ever been a certain watchful forethought, which would have made me invaluable as the commander of an army. Had I commanded at Bull Run — but then, I did not command at Bull Run, and the history of that unfortunate affair has already been written ! As I was proceeding to mount and ride off with the horses, I chanced to look at the bear track, where it crossed the soft bit of grassy ground on the side of the hog-back, opposite where Manuel had pointed it out in the hard, rocky soil ; and with the bluntness of an impulsive and ingenuous nature, thoughtlessly re- AM IRON-SHOD BEAR. 1 5 ] marked that the Tamalpais grizzlies had the good sense to follow the example of the horses thereabouts, and wear sharp heel- corks. The Doctor heard the remark, and coming back to where I stood, examined the track carefully. I heard him utter something in a deep undertone, which I am sure was not an invoca- tion of the blessing on the head of that descendant of the old Castilians. Manuel's quick ears caught it, and with an expression of general disgust as he looked at the whole party, and a glance of malignant hate at me, he turned his horse's head toward the summit of the mount- ain, and rode off without a word. For the next half hour no one of us spoke a word — out hearts were two full. Two miles more of hard climbing, the sweat pour- ing in streams off our panting horses, brought us to a little secluded flat, in a narrow canon but a short distance below the summit. There is a fine spring of pure, cold water there, and a number of huge, old oaks, gray with the long, trailing moss, which is nourished by the abundant moisture con- densed upon it daily from the dense sea fogs which roll up over the summit at brief intervals all the year round. Here we unpacked our traps, uncinched and picketed out our tired horses, and prepared for a long and vigorous campaign. The quails, driven up the mountain from all the valleys below by the incessant raids of the pot-hunters, fairly swarmed in this canon, having found it a safe haven of refuge up to this time that season. We killed several and badly frightened a considerably greater number. Then we spread our table and lunched gloriously. I 62 TAMALPAIS. Alter lunch, we went over the ground once more, bagging a few more quail, and then climbed to the summit of the mountain and looked down on the blue, illimitable Pacific ; that is to say, we looked down the steep western slope of the mountain in the direction where the blue, illimitable Pacific was, and still is, and probably always will be, located, and would have seen it had it not been hidden beneath a bank of snow- white fog, as solid and impenetrable to the eye as the mountain itself. We could hear the incessant moan- ing of the sea, as it dashed its waves on the rock- bound coast beneath us, but that was all. The bay where the chivalrous old filibuster and pirate Sir Francis Drake moored his fleet some centuries ago, and from whence he sailed some weeks later, without an idea of the existence of the grand Bay of San Fran- cisco and the glorious country of which the Golden Gate, right under his long, sharp, rakish nose, is the portal, was just below us on the northwest, but it might as well have been a thousand miles away. Point Lobos and Point Bonita were invisible, and the Far- rallones were buried countless fathoms deep beneath the fog-bank. All was an utter blank from a point a thousand feet beneath us. Even as we gazed upon it, the bosom of the snowy fog -bank heaved and rocked at the touch of the rising gale ; then the whole vast fleecy mass moved inward upon the land, and silently, but with the speed of thought, and apparently with irresistible force, came rushing like a mighty ava- lanche up the slope of the mountain toward the summit on which we stood. "We shall see nothing, and THE FOG BELL, jg., may lose our way in the mist ; let us vamos; and we vamosed. As we turned our steps to the eastward and passed over the crest of the mountain again, we saw the mist moving up through the Golden Gate, and rolling over the island of Alcatraz, which in a moment was en- veloped and hidden from sight. As the island dis- appeared, the low, mournful voice of the tolling fog- bell came faintly but distinctly to our ears, borne on the soft, moist air. B-o-o-m! b-o-o-m! b-Q-o-m! a throbbing pulsation of sound, always inexpressibly painful for me to listen to, and I have heard it thou- sands of times. A San Francisco poet has beauti- fully expressed in the following lines the thoughts awakened by night — and by day as well — not in his mind alone, by the voice of THE FOG BELL OF ALCATRAZ. O weary warden, that o'er sea and marshes Monotonously calls Thy challenge to the foe, whose stealthy marches Invest the city walls. Thy voice of warning far and wide diverges, Thrilling the midnight air ; Yet in thy tower, above the rocking surges, Thou dost not heed, nor care. Thou readest not the message of thy bringing ; Thou dost not know the weight Of that which in thy little are forever swinging, Thou dost reiterate. Thou heedest not the text, whose repetition Makes the dark night more drear ; Thou fill'st the world with formal admonition — Rut show'st no sky more clear ! x 64 TAMALPAIS. Thou see'st not the binnacle light that glistens Upon the slippery deck ; Thou markest not the mariner who listens ; Thou see'st not the wreck. Vain is thy challenge — vain thy admonition — To all who hear or pass ; Having not Love nor Pity — thy condition Is but " as sounding brass." O formal Dervish ! rocking in thy tower, That looks across the deep, Cry, O Muezzin, "God is God!" each hour — But let believers sleep. Thou hast the word, O too insensate preacher, But having nought beyond, The fate thou criest, and thyself the teacher, Alike by man are shunned. We listened some minutes to the steady, monoto- nous, and mournful pealing of the fog-bell, then hur- riedly retraced our steps to the canon in which we had left our guide and the horses. The horses were all right ; but the guide lay stretched at full length upon the ground, motionless and rigid as the Cardiff giant. We were by his side in a moment. "Asleep ! " said Lloyd. "Dead!" suggested the Doctor. "In a fit !" hazarded your humble servant. He was drunk — simply, but terribly drunk — our bottle lying empty beside him, and our hearts were unutterably sad and full, aye, even slopping over — of bitterness. We found a flat rock of suitable proportions, and erected it, with an appropriate inscription, scrawled with the end of a burned stick, as a tombstone at his head ; placed another at his feet, inserted a soft boulder under his head as a pillow, laid two smaller ones gently on his eyes, and rode away in sorrow and in silence. BLANK VERSE. l fr^ That faithless watcher had told us before we left him to ascend to the summit, that a trail led back along- a winding ridge and through a timbered coun- try, and so down the mountain by the way of La- gunitas, a lumber-camp near the foot, and advised us to return that way. We started to carry out his pro- gramme without him. After we had ridden a short distance, alone pigeon perched upon the top limb of a dead tree attracted our attention, and all firing at once, we brought him lifeless to the ground ; then indulged in an animated and somewhat acrimonious discussion as to who fired the fatal shot, until the fog -drift was upon us. We rode along the ridge a mile or two in the dense, salt fog, until our clothing was drenched as if from a thunder shower, and we all smelled like so many Point Lobos mussels, while water streamed out of the barrels of our guns, whenever we turned them muzzle downward. "This is poetry condensed!" I had exclaimed enthusiastically, as we looked down in delight upon the scene spread out before us, as we ascended the eastern slope of the mountain. "I'll be blamed if this is not prose! " said the Doctor, as he gazed ruefully at the approaching fog-bank which shut us out from the sight of everything on the west from the summit of the mountain. "This is blank verse! " cried Lloyd, as he now swept the drops of gathered moisture from his face in a shower, and mopped himself industriously with his dripping hand- kerchief. Suddenly we emerged from the cloud, and found ourselves below and outside of it, and in the sunshine j (3 5 TAMALPAIS. again. We halted and gave three cheers. We were out of the woods, and out of the fog, and five quails ahead. The fullness of our high hopes of the morn- ing had fallen something short of realization, it is true, but we had got "a starter" nevertheless, and still had before us some hours in which to retrieve the fortunes of the day. ~ We went on down the steep declivity a mile or more ; then came upon the edge of one still more pre- cipitous, and looked down into a narrow, romantic cauon, at the bottom of which is Lagunita. Descending this precipice, our horses occupied something the po- sition of red squirrels coming down the side of a barn. My horse being at the rear, had his nose projected far over the back of Lloyd's, and his in turn was tele- scoped — so to speak — over the Doctor's. I had al- ways an inquiring mind, and a tendency toward ex- periments. I had a sharp stick in my hand, and inserted it playfully under the portion of Lloyd's horse nearest me. The experiment was an eminent success. Mousey, by way of passing on the compliment, seized Whitey by the rump, and gave him a nip that brought away the fur by the handful. Whitey having nothing before him to get even on, whirled half round, at the risk of his rider's neck, and went for his assailant "for all there was in sight." Mousey lifted his heels, and my horse caught the full force of the shock. Things rattled, and the air for the mo- ment was blue with cursing. When order was at last restored, we rode on in sulky silence. They were mad, and gave me no credit whatever for good MORE GAME. jg- intentions. I felt hurt. We reached and passed the saw-mills and hamlet at Lagunitas, and soon came to where the road forked. Falling carelessly behind, I watched my opportunity and quietly gave them the slip, turning off down one trail while they went the other. In the next mile's ride, I bagged two more quail. Then I came upon a little lustrous-eyed, white- toothed Mexican boy in a canon, who was out with a bow and arrow, going the rounds to look at his quail-traps. He had several quail, and I acquired them. Then I rode on with him, chatting on various subjects, while we visited all his traps. He had lived some years in sight, and almost within hearing of the bells of the great city of the Pacific Coast, and had never been in it in his life. I told him what I could of its wonders, and when we parted company I was four bits out in coin, but had seven good, healthy quails to show for my work. I went on down toward the coast, where the quails had been less harassed by hunters, and coming upon several large coveys, swelled my game-bag considerably by well directed shots. I also got a snap-shot at a fine, large Cali- fornia hare, and corralled him. When the sun went down and evening stole over the land, I rode triumph- antly into San Rafael with twenty-three quails in my game-bag and a hare slung behind my saddle. I was "happy and content as one of Swimley's boarders," and felt that I was the champion shootist of the party. Alas! not so. There is no limit to the duplicity and deceit of human nature. Lloyd and the Doctor heard my story in silence ; saw me unpack my game, TAMALPAIS. 1 68 and display it with honest pride, with an expression of contempt upon their faces ; then led the way exult- ingly to where their game was hanging. There were exactly twelve dozen quails, tied neatly in bunches of two dozen each, hanging on the wall. I was stag- gered. After examining them closely, I remarked that I had never seen so great a quantity of game killed with so slight an expenditure of ammunition — there was not a shot- mark to be found on any bird in the entire lot so far as I could see ; and nearly every one had his neck dislocated, or head crushed in. Travelers, according to popular opinion, are in- clined to exaggeration, and will sometimes indulge in something very like outright falsehood, when the truth would fall short of creating the desired sensa- tion. From my youth up I have been a hunter, and association with sportsmen and travelers has had a tendency to fill my mind with suspicion and doubt, as to the genuineness of trophies of the chase exhibited as the result of hunting expeditions, and the entire reli- ableness of travelers' tales. When Gordon Cumming returns to Europe, from a raid on the game of South Africa, it is a notorious fact that it is next to impossible to find any first-rate lion-skins, leopard-skins, or ele- phant-tusks of extra large size for sale in the markets of Cape Town and Natal. In our own country, unscru- pulous parties have not unfrequently brought obloquy upon the entire fraternity, by returning from a hunt with more game than they could possibly have shot within the number of hours they were out, even if the o-ame had been ranged before them in platoons, and OFF FOR SAN- QUENTIN. j £g they had nothing to do but to load and fire from morning to night. This is all wrong, an d I took oc- casion to say as much — in a spirit of pure kindness, and more in sorrow than in anger — to my companions and a few spectators at this time. Did I receive any thanks for my disinterested and gratuitous advice ? Far from it ; I got abuse and gross personalities in- stead. Such is human nature! I replied feelingly. I was tired and sore, and possibly a little irritable ; but I solemnly affirm that I never said that I could whip any man in the company. I am no prize- fighter ; why should I ? As to the San Rafaelite who interfered, I consider him wholly inexcusable ; and so far as he is concerned, am not sorry for what he got for his pains. It is an unpleasant subject, and I dislike to pursue it any further. Next morning we were in the saddle again at eight o'clock, having despatched our game and firearms by the express to San Francisco, and ran our horses at the dead jump all the way to San Quentin, arriving just in time to get on board the boat for the city. As the boat glided away down the Bay, we looked back from its deck and saw the mountain standing out bold and free from cloud or fog in the bright morning sunlight, and bitterly thought of the experience of yesterday. Thus, truthfully and dispassionately, after the lapse of months, have I written up this history of our great hunting, fishing, and warlike expedition to Tamalpais. As I have already remarked, Tamalpais is one of the finest of the lesser mountains of California ; an at- j j TAMALPAIS. tractive mountain to look at from Russian or Tele- graph Hill. It is there all the time. You may see it any day ; and you may have it all for me. The experiences of that trip disgusted me with it for all time, and I go there no more. Adios, Tamalpais ! CHAPTER VIII. NAPA VALLEY AND MT. ST. HELENA. From San Francisco to Vallejo. — What we Saw while Crossing the Bay of San Pablo. — The Valley of Napa. — A Moonlight Evening in the Mountains. — Calistoga by Moonlight and Sunlight. — The Baths. — Hot Chicken-Soup Spring. — The Petrified Forest of Calistoga. — The Great Ranch and Vine- yards. — Ascent of Mount St. Helena. — What we Saw from the Summit. — Reminiscences of the Flood. — Story of the Judge and the Stranger. — " Pres- ently, sir, presently !" — Good Joke on the Robbers. — What happened to Me in Arizona. — A Good Story, but too Appreciative an Audience. A soft September afternoon ; cloudless, warm, quiet, hardly a breath or breeze to ruffle the Bay of San Francisco. The summer winds, the curse of San Francisco, have died out, and one can enjoy life once more in the immediate vicinity of the metropolis of the Pacific. Brown, and looking as old as the hills on which she stands, is San Francisco, the won- derful city of a day, in her russet coat of summer dust, as we look back at her from the steamer's deck. Straw color, mauve, and ashes of roses, are the tints displayed by all the mountains around the Bay, save old Tamalpais, who, clad in royal purple, looks grandly down upon us on the westward as our steamer glides swiftly past frowning Alcatraz, Angel Island and the Red Rock, the Dos Hermanos and the Dos Hermanas (Two Brothers and Two Sisters, (170 172 SCENES FROM THE BAY. curious round rocks rising from the bosom of the Bay), and glide into the Bay of San Pablo, with the pretty old town of San Pablo peeping^out from be- neath the evergreen live oaks, and exotic shade trees, on the Contra Costa shore on the right, and San Ouentin, with its gloomy State Prison, on the Marin county shore on the left; and beyond, nestled in a little valley away up under the dark shadow of Tamalpais, the picturesque village of San Rafael, a noted health-resort for San Franciscans. Through the Bay of San Pablo, past Mare Island, with its navy- yard and barracks, our steamer moves, and turning abruptly northward, just as we catch a glimpse of the straits of Carquinez, opening eastward towards Martinez and Benicia, rounds to at the railroad wharf at Vallejo, some thirty miles from San Francisco. We saw two schools of porpoises playing in the waters of San Pablo Bay; thousands of pelicans and shags crowding the rocks at the Dos Hermanos, a number of huge fish, sturgeon or salmon, or both, leaping bodily out of the smooth waters; and a remarkably pretty girl, Spanish- American we judge, among the numerous passengers upon the steamer, as we came along. Masculine and human, we paid comparatively little attention to the birds and fishes. Vallejo, a large, straggling, ambitious village, stand- ing where a city, like one of those which cluster around New York, may stand years hence, claims and receives but a passing glance, and we are on board the cars, gliding swiftly northward, out of the reach of the cool ocean breezes, and into one of the fairest valleys A BEAUTIFUL PICTURE. j - - that ever the sun shone on, Napa. At the lower end of this valley we pass through the thriving, prosper- ous-looking, young city of Napa, with its grain ware- houses on the banks of a navigable creek, and vessels' masts showing over the housetops, as in Chicago. The streets are wide, and the houses, which have a neat and homelike Eastern air, are surrounded with blooming gardens and orchards, laden with red and golden fruit, and vines borne down to the very earth with luscious white, flame-colored, and purple grapes. Napa looks an attractive place for a quiet home, and such its people consider it. The sun has gone down in the purple west, and the full, round autumn moon climbs the Eastern hori- zon as we glide away northwards through the valley of Napa. The still, pure air is illuminated by the rays of the moon to an extent hardly to be credited in less favored lands beyond the Rocky Mountains; and trees, rocks, houses, vineyards, orchards and shadowy mount- ains stand out clear and distinct ; every object within a range of many miles is seen almost as if by daylight. The valley is one wide, yellow stubble-field, only broken by patches of vineyard, long banks of grain in sacks, piled up in the fields, and left uncovered for months with perfect impunity in this rainless season; huge stacks of straw and hay, pressed into bales for the, market, and white farm-houses, many of them very costly, indicating the possession of wealth and taste by their proprietors. At intervals we pass through nat- ural parks, where the mighty live-oaks are scattered through the whole broad valley, like apple trees in an NAPA VALLEY. orchard. The mountains on either side of the valley grow more abrupt and rugged as we advance north- wards. The deep green chemisal covers their sides, save where they are patched with vineyards, or the white lavatic rock beneath is laid bare by long, winding wagon-roads and bridle-trails, leading over them into minor valleys beyond. By our faith, it is a glorious land . Oh, Christ ! it is a goodly sight to see What Heaven has done for this delicious land ! What fruits of fragrance blush on every tree — What glorious prospects o'er the hills expand ! We gaze upon the swiftly- passing panorama for an hour in silence, and then to turn our companion on the next seat. "Charley, did you ever see anything more beautiful in your life? " "Beautiful! magnificent! gorgeous! sublime! Our language has no fitting terms for it. Why her eyes would have driven Mohammed mad — her teeth are bands of pearls, and her blue-black hair would shame-" 'Twas ever thus ! We might have known it from the start. That Spanish girl has set him as mad as a March hare. Well, well, we too were young once ; and come to think of it to-night, it don't seem such a very long time ago either. The bell has been rung, and the name of the station called for the last time, and a long-drawn, exultant whistle from the locomotive startles Charley at last from his dream of Paradise and " the black-eyed girls in green," as it announces our arrival at Calistoga. CALISTOGA. I7 - Declining the proffered carriage, we walk down a wide avenue into the hotel grounds, see rows of neat cottages stretching away on either hand, with families and groups lounging on the piazzas, telling stories, singing, and mayhap love-making in the moonlight — enter the hotel, dine sumptuously — washing down our broiled chicken, trout and quail with the rich, fruity- red wine of Calistoga; and finally, well pleased with the world, ourselves, and mankind in general, retire to our cottage, disrobe, draw the drapery of our couch around us, and lie down to pleasant dreams. The noise of wheels rattling swiftly over the gravel walks, horses galloping away to the mountains ; then the loud clangor of the hotel bell, and the long-drawn whistle of the locomotive, awaken us betimes in the morning. The sun is already high above the green- clad, rock-capped, rugged mountains on the eastern side of the valley, when we came out upon the piazza to take our first daylight view of Calistoga. It is glorious ! Eastward, a long range of mountains, fantastic in form, abrupt and rugged, skirts the whole horizon. A long mesa, bench, or table, on the summit shows where the great river of lava flowed away from the crater south- ward towards the Bay of Suisun ages ago. Northward rises, majestically bold and beautiful, Mt. St. Helena, cutting off the valley in that direction. The foot-hills and sides of this mountain are green in spring time and early summer, and golden later in the year, with the rank growth of wild oats, which covers the whole face of the country where the plow has not disturbed the soil, up to the point where the old lava -flow i7 q NAPA VALLEY. covers all the soil and leaves no room for vegetation. All the lower valley lands are dotted with huge oaks, with pensile limbs like trailing grape-vines, which fairly sweep the ground, and often loaded with green- ish-gray moss, which gives the landscape such an as- pect as that of the lowland country of Texas and Louisiana, where the Creole-moss abounds. Higher up, the pines and redwoods bristle on every height, and fill every canon, imparting a sombre grandeur to the scene. Westward, a range of foot-hills, densely covered with oak, manzanita, and the peerless ma- drono, skirt the valley ; and back of them, farther to- wards the ocean, towers a higher mountain range, breaking the sea breeze, and shielding the valley from the chill ocean fogs, the terror of visitors to San Fran- cisco. Before us, at the foot of a conical hill, covered with grapevines, flowering shrubs and magueys (the "century plant" of Eastern hot-houses), and sur- mounted with an oriental summer-house, is the plain hotel building; and running around the grand rise which encircles "Mount Lincoln," is a row of neat cottages, each with its large yard filled with flowers and thrifty-growing palm-trees in front. Over to the southeast of the hotel stands a large structure, from the doors and windows of which steam is escaping. This is the great swimming-bath house. From many points along the level ground in that direction steam rises from the black earth, and a small creek of hot water, gathered from many sources, runs away through a deep, wide ditch. Mud baths, steam baths, shower baths, sulphur baths, and every kind of bath, in fact, CHICKEN BROTH. 17 are here provided for by nature — only the houses for hiding the bathers from general observation being a work of art. Centuries ago, the unlettered Indians of the Pacific coast were accustomed to resort here to soak away rheumatism and the many ills which abo- riginal flesh is heir to, by wallowing in the hot, black, sulphurous mud, which boiled and bubbled like the witches' broth in infernal cauldrons. Wide grain fields, trim vineyards, and tea plantations spread away in all directions from the hamlet which surrounds the hotel. The proprietor of all this magnificent — I may say princely — estate of Calistoga, is Samuel Brannan, one of the most enterprising of the early business men of the Pacific coast. Pie has recently disposed of all his productive property in the heart of San Francisco, and come here to make his homeland devote the au- tumn of life to building up as a monument of his energy, taste and public spirit, the great health and pleasure resort of California. The soil is wonderfully productive ; the air in autumn, winter, and early spring pure and bracing; in summer tropical; the mountains round about are filled with attractions for the tourist and pleasure-seeker, and altogether Calistoga is one of the pet institutions of California. Just across the way from the hotel piazza is a little house, enclosing a spring of peculiar character. The water is clear as crystal, scalding hot, and impregnated with mineral substances of wonderfully health-restoring properties. A dash of salt and pepper causes a bowl of it to be- come, so far as sight, taste and smell can distinguish, the exact counterpart of fresh chicken broth. Many j ~£ NAPA VALLEY. an invalid has swallowed a bowlful of it with keen relish, and then learned with indignant surprise that the soup was cooked in the reeking kitchen of his Satanic Majesty down deep in the bowels of the earth, and was as innocent of any contact with even the shadow of terrestrial chicken as any you could obtain at the best hotel in Saratoga, or the most fashionable boarding-house in New York. An iron pipe has been driven down deep into the earth at this point, and on letting down some fresh eggs in an open-work wire cage through the tube, you can have them hard boiled in Nature's kettle inside of three minutes. In front of the hotel stands a curious rude orotto or o summer-house, apparently composed wholly of short sections of tree-trunks, unhewn and rough, placed endwise one upon another. A closer inspection re- veals the fact that the trees from which these sections were broken were of solid stone. Asfes and ao-es aa-o there stood upon the summit of one of the mountain ridges on the west of the valley, some seven miles from the present site of Calistoga, a grove of great redwood trees, which, by some process of nature, became changed into stone, mo,re enduring and perma- nent than the " everlasting hills" themselves. For years the fact of the existence of this phenomenon was unknown to the residents of the vicinity, the thick chapparal effectually hiding the fallen trunks from view. In 1870, one of the terribly destructive fires which sweep over the mountains of California and Oregon year after year, laid bare the summit of this hill range, and the ground was found strewn THE PETRIFIED FOREST. l yg with the petrified trunks of giant trees, at intervals for several miles. This locality is now the subject of much curious investigation, and the origin of the "Pet- rified Forest of Calistoga" has been speculated upon learnedly by many scientists. The wood retains its grain perfectly, no difficulty being found in counting the consecutive rings supposed to indicate the years of growth of each fallen giant of the forest. The color is a whitey-brown, and there are occasional lay- ers of clear white quartz in small crystals, apparently the result of water deposits. Evidences of remote volcanic action abound in the vicinity, the whole sur- face of the ground being composed, in fact, of tufa, ashes, and coarse, broken sandstone, mixed with meta- morphic rock, ascribed to the cretaceous age, and indicating disturbance by severe earthquakes or vol- canic convulsions of a comparatively recent date. None of the trees are perfect — only the trunks and main roots appearing to have been petrified — and all are ly- *ng flat upon the ground, or half buried in it, scattered and broken, as if blown down by a sudden gale or whirlwind. Some of the trunks are from fifty to seven- ty-five feet in length, and nearly perfect, and others mere stumps and fragments, from ten to thirty feet long. Tourists visit the locality almost daily, and sample the trees so freely that a few years will suffice to obliterate all traces of the now famous grove. The stone takes a fine polish, and is much prized for seal- rings and jewelry. Professor Marsh, of Yale College, who examined the petrifaction, on the ground, in 1870, came to the T o~ NArA VALLEY. conclusion that the trees had first been overthrown by earthquake force, and buried beneath the debris from some ancient eruption of Mount St. Helena, the sum- mit of which is fully ten miles distant in a northeastern direction on the other side of the valley ; then petri- fied by the action of acids contained in these volcanic deposits, and in the lapse of time again uncovered by the wearing away of the overlaying tufa by the action of the rains and storms. There are grave difficulties in the way of the acceptance of this theory. The locality is situated at an elevation of not less than 2,000 feet above the sea, and from 1,000 to 1,200 feet above the valley which intervenes between these hills and the mountain from whence the volcanic mat- ter is supposed to have come. I hazard a purely unprofessional and gratuitous sug- gestion, that the trees were gradually petrified while they were yet upright and living, through the slow absorption at the roots of silic acid, which exuded from the rocks beneath and impregnated the soil around them. As the process of petrifaction pro- gressed and extended upwards, the trees became top- heavy, and fell over from their own weight, the roots having become too brittle through decay or petrifac- tion to assist in sustaining them in their natural erect position. The fact that the roots and lower parts of the trunks only were petrified — no fragments of the boughs are to be found — strengthens this last hypoth- esis. However, there is nothing on earth so cheap as theories — certainly nothing more worthless — and the reader can take his choice, or reject them all and A PAYING THE OR Y. jgj form one of his own, if he pleases. On the whole, it is quite likely that he or she will get along just as well without any theory whatever — the petrified trees are there anyhow — and in doing so, save himself and mankind generally a world of trouble. I have ob- served in my capacity as a journalist, that the detective or other officer who forms a theory in regard to the perpetration of a crime, invariably warps all the facts to accommodate them to that theory, and in nine cases out of ten ends by going wide of the truth, and having- the mortification of seeing some dull- headed, non-theorizing plodder carry off the reward for the discovery of the criminal. As a rule, what is cheap is not worth having at any price, and the mere fact that a theory on any subject costs nothing at the start, is rather against it than otherwise. I used to have theories on politics and religion and social econ- omy years ago, but I found that they kept me in hot water all the time, so I discarded them all, and have had abundant reason to thank a merciful Providence for having done so. As a rule, theories don't pay. It is true there are exceptions. I once knew a famous southern journalist who retired from the pursuit of his profession, and settled down as a theoretical and practical sheep-raiser, in Coural county, Texas. He had a theory. It was, that the sure road to fortune — for others — lay in buying blooded sheep for im- proving the native breed. He succeeded in convincing his fellow-citizens of the Lone Star State of the truth of this theory, and became rich by selling them the sheep at round prices. But you will readily observe jg 2 NAPA VALLEY. that he ran his theory, instead of following the usual custom, and allowing his theory to run him. Most people are run by their theories, and fail. Having never been able to sell my theories to others, and be- ing determined not to buy any, or keep any on hand, I have retired from the theory business entirely, and do not propose to go back to it. The road leading up to the Petrified Forest from Calistoga is a romantic and beautiful one, and the trip on a pleasant morning or evening in the early spring- time, when the hills are clad in vivid green, and the manzanita and the madrono are in blossom, load- ing all the air with their sensuous fragrance, is one to be enjoyed to the utmost, and ever after remembered with pleasure. " There is no beauty in star or blossom Till looked upon with a loving eye ; There is no fragrance in spring-time breezes Till breathed with joy as they wander by." Beautiful for aye to me are the stars which look down in their glory on this valley and these moun- tains ; more fragrant than the winds from the sweet south, which have passed over "the Gardens of Gul in their bloom," are the soft breezes which I have here breathed with a tender joy unutterable. A two- mile ride through the fertile valley takes one to the foot of Mount St. Helena, and a winding carriage-road, supplemented by a bridle-path, leads thence to the summit of the grand old mountain. The tourists who every summer are whirled through this valley up to the Geysers and back again in hot haste, vainly imagining that they are seeing, when they VIEW FROM MT. ST. HELENA. jg- are in truth only "doing-" California, know not what a treat they are missing in passing by Mount St. Helena without ascending it. The mountain rises only 4,345 feet above the sea, its altitude being really less than that of Mount Washington, in New Hamp- shire, but it so far overtops the surrounding hills and lesser mountains, that the view from its summit is grand and extended beyond the power of words to depict. From the broad Pacific on the west, to the snow-capped Sierra Nevada, which skirts the whole eastern horizon, and from San Francisco and the mountains of San Mateo, Alameda, and Santa Clara in the south, to the Black Buttes of Marysville and the valley of Russian River, the redwood forests of Men- docino and Sonoma, and the high mountain country of the Lakes on the northeast, northwest and north, the view is unbroken and uninterrupted, save by the isolated peaks of Mount Diablo, Tamalpais, and a few lesser landmarks of the Golden Land. The view from the summit of Tamalpais is worth a journey from Eu- rope to behold — that from St. Helena is worth a hun- dred of it. To the stranger there is enchantment in the scene ; to the old Californian, history, romance, suggestive memories, in every feature of the scene. Look over there to the eastward beyond the inter- vening coast-range foot-hills into the valley of the Sacramento! Who, standing here and looking down for the first time upon that broad, straw-colored val- ley, dry as the dust of the highway, and glimmering in the hot sunshine, would believe that a few years since it was one wide sea of turbid waters, forty miles from jg. NAPA VALLEY. bank to bank, and stretching from the Bay of" Suisun to the Black Buttes of Marysville and beyond ? Yet such it was. In the winter of 1 86 1-2, steamers went twenty miles inland from the banks of the Sacramento, and from tree-tops, hay-stacks, and the roofs of houses and barns, or fixed rafts constructed of house and fence materials, rescued hundreds of families who otherwise must have perished in the raging floods. Those were indeed dark days for the dwellers in the valley of the Sacramento, and it seemed for a time that the whole country must be abandoned forever by man. For more than forty days and forty nights the windows of Heaven were opened, and the rain poured down almost incessantly. San Francisco was filled with refugees, supported by the charity of her citizens; and all the towns of the valley country were flooded, or saved from destruction only by incessant labor upon their levees. In those days people joked and laughed in the midst of their misfortunes with true California humor. Well do I remember hearing a party of the "drowned out," standing on the deck of a steamer which was carrying them to San Francisco, and relating with grim facetiousness the mishaps and adventures of the hour. One rough-bearded fellow, with a pale, shrink- ing, feeble woman by his side, and a half- clad, sick child in his arms, told how, while the family were clinging to the boughs of a tree just above the surg- ing waters, they saw a house going swiftly down the stream, with a Chinaman sitting quietly astride the rid^e of the roof. "Halloa, John! where are you WATER, WATER, EVERYWHERE, ETC. jg- bound for?" called out one of the party as John was swept swiftly past. "Me no shabbe!" was John's prompt but half-despairing- reply. Let us hope that he brought up in some safe harbor at last. Another of the group told, with an evident hearty relish and keen appeciation cf the absurdity of the matter, how he had passed on a raft in the immediate vicinity of a country house, which, firmly anchored to two giant trees, held its own stiffly against the flood. The water stood four feet deep on the ground floor, and the children were looking composedly out of the chamber window at the old lady, who, armed with a long pole, was wading around armpit deep in the water some distance from the house. From time to time, she would turn the end of the pole downwards and feel about in the water for something. The party on the raft hailed her to know if any of her family had been drowned, intending if such was the case to offer to stop and help her search for the body. " No, thank you ; family all safe, but the child' n is terribly dry, an' I never like to let 'em drink river water, 'cause its so agery, an' I'm jest try in' to find the confounded well. If I don't think hit's gone an' floated away, drown me, stranger; an' it cost us a heap o' money!" was the poor distressed woman's half-despairing re- ply. This prejudice against river water is doubtless to some extent justifiable, as, in the summer season, the amount of vegetable matter held in solution in it must be considerable ; nevertheless, I incline to the im- pression that the old lady was rather running it into the ground under all the circumstances. j 55 NAPA VALLEY. Away over there in the northwest, among the forest-clad hills which skirt the Valley of Russian River, is the favorite stamping-ground of certain ama- teur hunters and fishermen from San Francisco : mem- bers of the bar and occupants of the bench, who come here to spend the summer vacation, "camping out," roughing it, shooting, fishing, swapping anecdotes by the blazing camp-fires far into the glorious nights, and growing little poorer in pocket, while growing rich to abundance in the health, strength, and elasticity of spirit which they carry back to the city with them. Judge , of the U. S. Court, in San Francisco, is one of these choice spirits. He is as captivating a talker as you may meet in many a long year's jour- ney ings around this sinful world. His fame has gone out through the land, and everybody now knows him by sight, or reputation at least. It was different years ago. Once upon a time, a party of these city sports were camping in the mountains, and having a jolly good time. One evening a stranger came into camp, and as he appeared to be a nice, quiet, sociable, intel- ligent gentleman, he was made free to everything for the night. He soon showed himself not only a good story-teller, but something still dearer to the Judge's heart — a good listener. After supper, he seated himself upon a log before the blazing camp-fire, and the Judge, placing himself between him and the fire, crossed his hands under his coat-tails, bent his face in close proximity to that of his victim, and went for him for all he was worth. An hour — two, three hours passed, and still the Judge talked on ; and still "PRESENTLY, SIR; PRESENTLY:' jg- the stranger maintained his position, holding on to the .log with both hands, and looking his honor fix- edly in the face. One of the party called another to one side, and said to him anxiously: "For Heaven's sake, call the Judge off, or we won't sleep a wink to-night." Number two approached the Judge quietly' pulled him by the sleeve, and said : "See here, Judge, I have something that I would like to speak to you about for a few moments! " "Presently!'' An hour passed and the manoeuvre was repeated, with the same reply — "Presently!" Another hour, and another member tried it on. "Presently, sir; presently, I tell you!" was the Judge's somewhat impatient reply. Another and another tried it with like success, or want of success, and at last all gave it up and turned into their welcome blankets. All through the weary night the party turned uneasily in their blankets from time to time, and still heard the Judge going on — -and on — and on — the stream of talk flowing as steadily and remorselessly as the stream of Time, which singeth as it flows — "And men may come, and men may go, But I go on forever." Morning broke over the grey mountains at last, and the party arose to prepare for breakfast. The fire had gone out, but the Judge stood there as he had been standing on the evening before, with his hands clasped behind him, his back bent towards iSS NAPA VALLEY. where the fire had been, and his face toward the foe — - still talking on — and on — and on. And the stranger? He sat there still, with his eyes fixed in a du'l, stony stare straight in the Judge's face — mad, hopelessly mad! They pulled the Judge away by main force, and compelled him to notice the condition of his vic- tim, something he had utterly omitted to do before. It was too late ; reason had given way at last before the terrible strain, and she never recovered her throne. To this day, a grey-haired, quiet, hopelessly-afflicted patient wanders around in the public ward of the In- sane Asylum at Stockton, looking with a fixed, stony stare before him, and never speaking to any human being ; only at long intervals muttering half incoher- ently, "Presently, presently!" while the Judge goes on the even tenor of his way, dealing out justice to his fellow-men, and sleeping at nights like a Christian — when he has nobody to talk to. Years passed on, and the "road agents" who had long made it lively for the travelers and expressmen in the Sierra Nevada and the gold districts of the foothill country of California, finding the old stamping- ground becoming comparatively unproductive, shifted their base of operations over to the western and south- ern parts of the State, and set to work with fresh energy to gain a livelihood by the industrious prac- tice of their profession. In the spring and summer of 1 87 1 they affected Sonoma county to a disagree- able extent, and cleaned out stage-load after stage-load over there in the northwest, about Cloverdale. You can see the road with the glass, there where it winds STAND AND DELIVER. j g Q over the divide coming out of the Russian River Val- ley. One night in August a party of San Franciscans went up the valley from Santa Rosa, bound on a hunting expedition into the 'mountains, and the gen- tlemen of the road, mistaking their ambulance for the regular stage, came quietly out into the road from the dusty chapparal on either side, like so many ghosts, in slouched hats and black crape veils, and presenting their shot-guns, ordered the party to stand and deliver. The party, never dreaming of such a misadventure, had their guns all stowed away in their cases in the bottom of the carriage, and were in no condition to resist. The beau and wit of the party arose, and with a deprecatory gesture commenced to address the veiled figures before him : "Gentlemen, I regret to disappoint you and give you so much unnecessary trouble, but the fact is, you have made a trifling mistake. This isn't a stage. We are a party of peaceful citizens bound on a hunting and fishing expedition, and haven't got so much as a dollar in cash, a watch or a ring in the party. We don't carry 'em when we go on such a trip. It isn't safe. You know how it is yourselves !" "Oh, cut it short! Save the rest for the next party. Git down there d — d quick!" was the em- phatic remark of the leader of the gang. The beau and wit got down in despair, and held up his hands. Then a woe-begone visage was protruded from the side of the vehicle, and in solemn, sepulchral accents, a new address commenced as follows : " Gentlemen, it is not often that I am called upon Igo NAPA VALLEY. to make any remarks in a case like this. It seems to me that the matter may be stated briefly as follows : Firstly, the " 11 Great G — d, boys!"»fairly yelled the leader, as he recognized his man, "if this ain't old Judge , I'll be d — d! Let's get; for if he gets to talking to us, we'll die rigfht here of old aije or starvation!" and in half the time it would take me to tell it, the whole gang broke, as from the presence of the cholera, and disappeared in the chaparral from whence they came, never halting even to say good-by. That reminds me of the fellow who came up to me with an Apache arrow sticking in his back, on the Skull Valley road, in Central Arizona. He It pains me to be compelled to cut that story short at the above point, but love of truth impels me to say that I never had an opportunity of finishing it in the presence of that company. Just as I started to tell what the poor fellow did, I heard one of the party re- mark to another, " No insane asylum in mine, if I know it!" and a moment after observed them all, one by one, my beloved and trusted companions, crawling off over the rocks, like so many skulking Apaches, to- ward the spot where the horses were tied. When I overtook them, just as they were getting into their saddles, they assured me that they always liked that story about the Judge. They considered it "very neat and very appropriate." Well, so they did, and so do I ; but I cursed in my heart the set of over- appreckitive wretches who could draw a moral so fine, and put it in practice so suddenly. I like fun ; but A TALE SPOILED. . IQI practical jokes and practical jokers I detest. I was so disgusted that I never looked behind me to see what else was to be seen from the summit of Mount St. Helena, and in sorrow and in silence rode away down the mountain to Calistoga ajrain. CHAPTER IX. WAITING UNDER THE MADRONO. Dreaming of the Tropics again. — The Honey-Bee in California. — A Good Joke on the Bear. — In the Valley of the Shadow. — Nina Hermosa. — On the Red Desert. — Fair Alfaretto. — Burning the Mezquites. — The Curse of the White Man. — A Wild Night's Ride in the Sierra. Here, under the great Madrono, on the gently- sloping hillside we, the trout-fishing party, the Doc- tor, with his Henry rifle, moodily bent on somebody or something, he cares little what, so that it is large and dangerous — a grizzly, if he can find him ; a Cal- ifornia lion, if one comes in his way; a wild-cat, or an eagle, if nothing better offers; or possibly, by the rarest good fortune, a specimen of the mighty mount- ain vulture of California, first cousin to and almost the counterpart of the giant condor of the Andes — and myself, less aspiring hunter after pigeons, and such small game, were to meet and lunch after our mornino-'s wanderings in the mountains. " I am either the first man up, or blamedly belated !" re- marked the incorrigible drunkard, as he awoke in the coffin, in which his appreciative friends, by way of experiment, had conveyed him to the cemetery and left him beside a new-made grave; sat up, rubbed his eyes, and looked around him under the impression ( l 9 2 ) THE FIRST MAN UP. 1Q ? that the last trumpet had blown, and the dead of all time were called upon to come forth in response. There is no one else in sight, and I see no chicken bones, empty champagne bottles, or other "sign" of a lunch party having been here. On the whole, I think I must be the first man up on this occasion. I wonder where that Bill is with the lunch basket ? It is barely half-past twelve o'clock, but I was off at daybreak, and climbing rocky mountain sides, and pushing through tangled chaparral and the blackened stumps of thickets, run through and killed by last autumn's fires, is tiresome work, especially when the few pigeons you see keep half a mile out of the way, beyond the reach of a gun, as they have done with me all this morning. I would like to see Bill about this time. Hall-o-o-o-o-o-a ! Hall-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-a ! No response. Well, this is a nice place for a quiet nap any way, and the air is just warm and soft enough to make it a luxury. I will improve my time. " Ah me ! The hours o'er which we have least cause to weep Are those we pass in childhood, or in sleep." The first haven't come my way of late, but I can put in as square a day's work at the last as any man I have ever met yet. The Madrono boughs are loaded down with great, fleecy masses of creamy- white, bell- shaped blossoms, fragrant as the magnolia, and I see the black and yellow honey-bees swarming over them, while their low, steady humming falls with a soothing effect upon my drowsy ear. Even so I listened to and listlessly watched them, as I sat be- 194 WISE BEES. neath the cocoa palms and breathed the fragrance of the orange and primavera blossoms at La Calera. Every flower gives its own distinct flavor to the honey gathered from it. The orange-flower honey of Orizaba is fit to grace the table of the gods. I wish I had a little of it now, with some nice warm bis- cuits, such as my mother used to make for me. This madroiio- flower honey ought to be delicious! I wonder if the bears of California have found out how good it is ! The honey bee came to California with the Yankees, but the American variety soon found out that they could get along with next to nothing in the shape of a winter store, and so in a few years they took to loafing all summer, and shifting for themselves as best they might during the rainy sea- son, leaving no margin for profit for their owners, who, after paying fabulous prices for them, were obliged to turn them adrift and import Italian bees to take their places. Singularly enough, the yellow rascals, as soon as they were independent, and under no obligation to work for anybody else, took to the mountains, and went to work with a will on their own hook. They have now spread through the whole State; and in some localities, as in San Bernardino and Los Angeles counties, bee -hunting, for their stores of delicious honey, has become a regular and profitable business. If the California bears have not found out how good the honey is, the fact does no credit to their intelligence. In the valley of the Mississippi the bear is the wild bees'- most persistent enemy. But BEAR VERSUS BEES. jgr the bees sometimes make it very lively for him. I remember an old Arkansas hunter who told with in- finite gusto one anecdote in point. Said he: "I had heard an angry growling and snapping in the bushes, and I knowed that a bar was thar and in trouble; but for the soul of me I couldn't make out what it was. I allowed that perhaps he might have got a bullet into him, and was tryin' to work it out by mouthing it ; bar will do that sometimes ; so I just crawled like a cat through the underbrush for about ten rods, pulling old Grim — that's what I used to call my old Kaintuck rifle for short — after me, and going mighty cautious, not to be heard. The growlin' and snappin' kept up all the time, and it was no trouble to find the right place. Jest when I got to the edge of the brush, I looked out into a little open space whar thar was no bushes, and right in the middle of it I seen a bar sittin' on a bee-gum that had been blowed down and split open, and jest shovelin' the honey into his mouth, hand over hand. The bees they was as thick as hair on a dog's back, all around and over him, and the way they was puttin' in their best licks in the way of stingin' him onto the nose and around the eyes and mouth, was a caution to snakes, you bet. Every time he shoveled a handfull of honey into his face he would give a growl and a slap or two at the bees. Arter a while, he reached forard a little more nor usual, and the bees seen a bare spot on his rump — bars has a bare spot on their rump generally, whar they wears the har oft, sittin' down and turnin' round — and they went for it, for all there was in sight. This startled him like, and r g5 WAITING UNDER THE MADRONO. in tryin' to whirl around, so as to get a good grab at 'em, he fell off the log heels over head. He rolled over and over on the ground three or four times, and then jumped back on the log and went for the honey, uglier nor ever. I thought I had had fun enough watchin' on him up to that time, and I had better save him and the rest of the honey at the same time. So I jest drawed a bead on him with old Grim, and he rolled off that bee-gum deader nor he'd been struck by light- nin'. And would you believe it, ladies and gentlemen, that d — d bar never seen me at all, but thinks to this minnit that 'twas them ar bees that stung him to death! " Up from the depths of the deep canon, over on the other side of the narrow valley, at the foot of the hill, comes a long-drawn bugle-call, and I turn drowsily over and gaze in that direction, half impressed with the idea that I shall see again the long-drawn lines and glancing arms of the Guard of Jalisco filing through the barrancas at the foot of the volcano of Colima. But there rises no smoke from the summit of yonder mountain — the volcanic fires died out ages and ages ago in the crater of St. Helena, and I look in vain down the winding valley for the green palanquin, with the grey- haired statesman and wanderer in many lands, borne by white- clad Aztecs, and the gallant Zomeli, the beau sabrcur of Guadalajara, riding at the head of his squadrons of swarthy horsemen. I am not in the tropics after all, though dreaming of them; and it is the madrono, not the palm, whose green leaves rustle so gently in the sweet spring air above me. DEMORALIZA TION. 197 I wonder where Bill can be. I could stand the loss of the rest of the party, but he is- my friend indeed, or would be if I could see him. If I thought I could find a good dish of frijoles and tortillas in the camp of those Mexican or Chileno charcoal-burners over there in the canon, from whence the bugle-call came, I would start on the instant, and let the rest of the party go ; but the chances are ten to one that they have become demoralized, living amonof the Yankees and Pikes, and I should find only black coffee in the place of the delicious chocolate dc Tabasco, fried bacon ior frijoles, and saleratus or yeast- powder biscuit for the tortillas. This is a pretty good place after all, though I am getting very dry. I believe I will take a smoke. Why did I not think of that before ? The tobacco of Orizava is meat and drink and rest, all in one. Leonardo Sandoval, pro- prietor of "La Fabric a del Buen Gusto en Guada- lajara," you are a noble fellow, though anti-tobacco- nists may say what they please ; and you are my friend! You have the soul of a poet, too, in your bosom, else this would never have been printed in letters of gold upon the wrapper ol the package of your cigarritos, which by unbounded good luck I find in my pocket: Nina hermosa, Ya que te dio' natura bondadosa Dicntes de per/a, labios de coral; La ambrosia 4spira solo de la csencia ?nia V hare tu aliento puro, angelical. j g WAITING UNDER THE MADRONO. Your head is eminently level, Seilor Sandoval ! I endorse your sentiments to the very letter. Si Nina hermosa; I know her well! Teeth of pearl, lips of coral ; that is her description to the life ! Hang me, Leonardo, if you are not an artist as well as a poet and tobacconist! When next I enter your shop on the corner of the street of the Aduana and San Felipe, in orange-embowered Guadalajara, I will cultivate a more intimate acquaintance. Nina hermosa, I should like wonderfully well to drink to your health just now, but as I have not the essential for such a demonstra- tion with me, I will do the best I can under the circum- stances, and give you a puff — from my cigarrito ! The blue smoke curls gracefully upward, rising through the madrono branches in a slender column, so like a delicate, long-stemmed wine-glass in form, as to awaken a double recollection and association in my mind. I stand again on the Red Desert, hot, blister- ing sand beneath my feet, a brazen sky all aflame above, and bare, red mountains flickering in the re- flected rays of the fierce, blazing sun of the south, around me, gazing on a scene so sad, that even I, bitter Indian -hater that I am and must be. witness with heartfelt pain. Let me see how it all came about. It was in the autumn of 1863 when the mad rush across the Colorado Desert, to the newly found gold and copper mines beyond the Colorado, in Arizona, was at its height. The heat and dust, and consequent sufferings of the poorly outfitted participants in the rush, were terrible. What will not man suffer for the LOST ON THE DESERT. Igg sake of gold, always provided that the gold is far enough off, and hard enough to get ? Nearer at hand and easier won, it is not half so attractive. Uncle Billy Thompson and myself had taken a "short cut" across the desert from San Gor^onio Pass, eastward toward the Colorado, to avoid undesirable company; we lost the trail, and wandered on the red- hot desert sands, and in the sun-baked adobe moun- tains, without water, until our tongues parched in our mouths so that we dared not talk ; and before our long- ing eyes the leafless palo yerde shrubs turned to lofty palm trees, waving their green leaves in tropic breezes; and the mirage changed scattered volcanic rocks into great cities, whose long, level streets were lined with rows of palaces, such as the good Haroun Al Raschid raised in the city of the caliphs. By one of those freaks of fortune which some men call "miracles," others "special Providence," others "lucky chances" — and for which we thanked God in the silence of our hearts without stopping to call it anything — we had found a little deposit of pure water under a rock, left a day or two before by a cloud-burst, which had torn a channel like that of some great river, for twenty miles through the gravelly sands of the desert, and disappeared like a dream, leaving no other trace be- hind — had shared the life-gfivino- element with our famishing horses, taken rest and new heart, and trav- eling on, passing the spot where others less fortunate had lain down in despair and died, had reached a hos- pitable camp, and been saved at last. We had journey- ed thence in safety at last to the land of the accursed 200 WAITING UNDER THE MADRONO. Apache, wandered into the red mountains of Arizona,, made our "locations," and separated — he to toil in the mines and fight the treacherous, prowling Indians for years, I to return to home and civilization. Alone I had made the return trip from La Paz to Chucolw?J!a, and thence to Tabasaca and Canon Springs, where the faithful old buckskin steed Muchacho Juan, com- panion and friend in all my wanderings, had fallen down and died in terrible agony, after eating the poi- sonous weed of the desert known as "muerto en el campo" (death in the camp), leaving me to finish my journey of two hundred miles back to the settle- ments of California on foot and alone. Out of the jaws of death we had ridden exultantly into the camp at Dos Palmas a month before ; into the gates of hell I walked with bleeding feet as I left Dos Palmas next, inthe terrible silence of the desert night, on my weary tramp toward San Bernardino. It was two a.m. when I wearily climbed the summit of the divide between Dos Palmas and the Palma Seca, and looked down into the great plain below. When the last man looks down on the wreck of the universe, and sees our world going back into chaos, without form and void, he will not behold a scene of more utter and savage desolation, or find himself wrapped in a silence more truly terrible. The full, round moon flooded the whole landscape with mellow light, but naught of life was to be seen ; the ghastly pallor of death was upon and over everything. South- ward to the horizon stretched a great plain of snowy salt — the grim and silent ghost of a dead sea of the DESERT SCENERY. nQ past, which once covered all this accursed land, but being cut off by volcanic changes in the country below from the Gulf of California, dried up beneath the blaz- ing sun of the south, and passed away forever. Across this vast white plain, as across the waters of a placid lake, the moon threw a track of shimmering light so bright as to almost dazzle the eyes of the beholder. Right in this glowing pathway of light, far out in the centre of this ghostly sea, where foot of man hath never trod, lay what appeared in the dim distance the wreck of a gallant ship, which may have gone down there centuries ago, when the bold Spanish Conquistador es, bearing the cross in one hand and the sword in the other, and serving God and Mammon, and the Most Catholic King of Spain and the Indias, with exem- plary zeal, were pushing their way to the northwest, in search of souls to save for the love of Christ, and new kingdoms to plunder on shares. They sought then in vain for the fountain of youth, El Dorado, and the far-famed "Seven Cities of Civola." The fountain of youth lies ever just beyond the western horizon ; we shall find it, and drink of it, and bathe in its waters bye-and-bye ; the kingdom of Civola, from whence came the gems and treasure of Montezuma, lay even then in ruins in central Arizona, as we know to-day ; and El Dorado they found, but knew it not, leaving it to us, who long years after came in and possessed the land, and made it to blossom as the rose, and to our children's children, to shout "Eureka!" over bs abounding wealth. To the southwestward, beyond the western shore of the ancient sea, the Coyotero o 02 WAITING UNDER THE MADRONO. mountains broke the outline of the horizon. Farther northward, Mount' San Jacinto lifted his rugged form in a black mass against the sky; and northward, still the desert, in pulseless waves of ashes, minute sea- shells and yellow sand, stretched away for a hundred miles, like a stagnant, tideless sea, to where Mount San Gorgonio and Mount San Bernardino towered aloft in awful majesty — twin giants, grim and grand — at the gateway of this strange, wild, weird, myste- rious land. Upon their sides, far above the yellow sands of the desert, belts of dark-hued pifion forests stretched upward to their crowns of white, disinteg- rated granite, which gleamed like snow-fields in the clear moonlight, contrasting like frosted silver against the sapphire sky, and seeming to be cut off and de- tached from the earth below — floating like aerial ice- bergs through the starlit sea of the heavens. In vain I looked and listened ; sight or sound of life, save my own, there was none ; the eternal silence of the desert rested like a pall on the scene. This stillness is some- thing awful, beyond the power of words to describe. In the absence of all other sounds, save that of my own hushed breathing, the ticking of the watch in my pocket was so distinctly audible as to become painful to hear. The world in ruins lay around me, and though in it, I seemed not of it. "Though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death," cried the Psalmist : lo, the Valley of the Shadow stretched out before my feet! As the grey light, creeping sluggishly over the gla- cier mountains, announced the coming dawn, I limped A WOFUL PLIGHT. 0( ~, into the thicket of rank, bitter-leaved arrowwood which surrounds the bitter and nauseous alkaline springs of the Palma Seca, drank of the slimy waters, filled my canteen afresh, and pushed on again down into the plain, with a walk of twenty-five miles through alka- line dust, in the hottest valley on the surface of the earth — seventy feet below the level of the sea at that — before me. About ten o'clock, a ranchero from San Bernardino, who had been out to the new eold mines of Arizona with a drove of beef cattle, came up and joined me. His horse, a noble, fine-haired half-breed, far too good an animal to be brought out into this accursed desert to die of heat, thirst and starvation, was so weak that he could no longer bear the weight of his master, and jogged mechanically on, with his eyes closed and his ears hanging down, like two frost-bitten tobacco-leaves, as his late rider limped before him, packing his blankets on his shoulder, and pulling sadly at the halter. Noble — such was the name of my friend from San Bernardino — had been a jaunty-looking young fellow when I saw him start- ing out for the mines from home six weeks before. When I met him that day he was a fit subject for the pencil of Hogarth. His coat had dried up and van- ished, piece by piece, in the thorny thickets beyond the Colorado, and his vest had followed suit ; his hat was a wreck, his pants in ruins, and the uppers and soles of his boots having parted company, he had, in a fit of desperation, parted company with both. To replace his boots, he had split his lower nether gar- ment in twain, and bound the sections around his 204 WAITING UNDER THE MADRONO. swollen feet, thus in a measure protecting them from the blistering sun over the excoriating alkaline dust and ashes. Opposite where we met that morning was a broad sheet of dried mud, broken from the bed of what in the moment of a cloud-burst had been a roaring tor- rent, capable of sweeping away a whole train in an instant, as one was swept away near there in 1866, when men were drowned and their bodies carried miles away into the desert, and set up on end like a grave-stone. Some passing miners on the back track had spent an hour or more in cutting an inscription on this monument, as follows: "In memory of the Infernal Asses who left home, square meals, and the comforts of civilization behind them in San Francisco, and sought their eternal for- tunes among the mines in the blessed regions beyond the Colorado, of which are we. This monument was raised at the joint expense of the merchants of Los Angeles and San Bernardino, who drove a thriving trade, and had a grand thing out of it while the ex- citement lasted. And of such is the kingdom of Heaven." We looked at each other and at the monument by turns with mournful interest. The cork of Noble's canteen flew out with a pop, propelled by the force of the sulphur gas generated from the half-boiling, stink- ing water, as it was shaken about as he limped along. " Here, Fly-up-the-Creek — I've forgotten your other name — take a drink ! " said he. "You are another, my beauty, and I cannot refuse! " I replied, and swal- lowed a mouthful of the nauseating fluid. HOPE AT LAST. 20 = There is nothing more picturesque than a caravan on the desert — when seen in a picture, when you sit comfortably at home in a civilized country. Believe me, beloved of my heart, 'tis indeed distance lends enchantment to the view. That expression is, I be- lieve, not wholly original. I have a dim recollection of having- heard or read something similar once or twice before — but it is very neat and very appro- priate, and I crib it accordingly. Higher and higher climbed the sun into the un- clouded, copper-hued sky, and hotter and hotter grew the motionless desert air, until the point where breath- ing would become an impossibility, and the whole apparatus must catch fire and burn up, seemed almost reached. The treeless mountains which shut in this desert basin on all sides, keep out at this season every breath of life-giving breeze, and the sun pouring into it, as into an old-fashioned tin bake-oven, makes everything fairly hiss with the all-consuming heat. Mile after mile I plodded on, leaving Noble and his exhausted horse far behind, the heat and thirst becom- ing more nearly intolerable at every step. And now in the distance, along the western edge of the valley, arose great pillars of smoke — thin, and straight, and slender — to a vast height ; then spread- ing outward into the semblance of wide-limbed trees, whose roots were firmly planted in the earth, whose giant trunks rose in the middle air, and whose branches filled all the heavens above. Toward these pillars of smoke I bent my weary steps ; and at last, just as it seemed that my bleeding feet would bear me no further, 206 WAITING UNDER THE MADRONO. and I must sink down exhausted, I came suddenly upon group of Coahuila Indians, gathered around a clump ofmezquite trees, the branches of which were crack- ling in the flames. With parched lips and tongue, swollen from the fierce heat, I tottered, almost faint- ing, into the midst of the group, and held out my empty canteen. A young woman seized the canteen and ran into a thicket hard by, returning with it in a few minutes filled with delicious, cool, clear water, from some hidden well, known only to themselves. I sought for it many a time afterwards, but never found it. I drank of the cool, life-giving liquid — sweeter than champagne or nectar, it seemed to me then (it is but just to the manufacturers of the articles named to say that I had no chance of making a fair comparison at the moment), and then with my blankets on the dry sand under a spreading mezquite, slept the sleep of the just. When I awoke the Indians were all gone, save the pitying woman who had brought me the water. She was sitting- at a little distance off watching me, and as she saw me awakening, she ran and brought me another canteen of the cool water. Her language was a sealed book to me, as mine to her, and our con- versation was necessarily limited to a few words of Spanish which pass current everywhere on the south- western border, and are understood in their conven- tional meaning by all. She was barefooted and bare- headed, and marked with the small-pox. Her raiment was of the scantiest, and it was painfully evident that the stock of soap and Cologne water in the parental THE WHITE MAN'S CURSE. 2Q7 wickiup was running very low, necessitating the put- ting of the family on short allowance. She was, in short, not a bit like the traditional " fair Alfaretto" in any respect ; nevertheless I would have looked twice at an angel from heaven had one been offered in trade for her, unless the angel had come with a coach-and four, or on horseback, leading a spare horse, at the very least. There is a little river, called the Aqua Blancho, is- suing out of the San Bernardino Mountain, at the San Gorgonio Pass, at the upper end of the valley, and sinking in the sands of the desert soon after reach- ing the plain. Its waters are pure and cool, but no tree nor blade of grass grows on its desolate banks. From its source in the barren rock-ribbed mountain to its sink in the desert sands, through all its course, it is an accursed river, flowing ever in silence throuo-h a land accursed. But after it sinks and is permanently lost to sight, it contributes something to the comfort of mankind. It supplies the poor Coahuilas' wells fifty and a hundred miles to the southward, and nourishes a growth of the mezquite trees alono- the western side of the valley. In these mezquite groves the Indians have what is left of their villages since the small-pox has decimated them; and from the trees they gather the long, yellow, sugary beans, which, pounded into a paste and baked as bread, form with the pifions, or mountain pine nuts, almost their only diet the year round. The small-pox was a ter- rible infliction upon them, but a more terrible one followed close upon it. When the Indians of the 203 WAITING UNDER THE MADRONO. valley of the Mississippi saw the honey-bee coming among- them, they said, " Lo, the messenger of the white man ! He is at hand; it is time for us to go!" Following the small-pox came the mistletoe into this desert land, and, fastening upon the mezquite trees, soon loaded them down so heavily with its parasitic growth, that they ceased to produce beans, and the Indians saw starvation before them. "Lo, the curse of the white man is upon us!" they cried, and sat down in despair. An old chief told them to burn each season the trees worst afflicted with the mistletoe, and perhaps the new ones which would spring up in their places might be free from the curse. This is what they were doing on that day when I stumbled among them ; and a feeling of pity, deep and heartfelt, came over me, as I saw them standing around the burning trees, which had represented to them life, and hope, and abundance, and gazing with saddened, downcast, hopeless faces upon the consuming flames. Lying here to-day in the fragrant shade of the blooming madrono, on the green-clad heights of the mountains of Napa, watching the smoke curling up- ward from my fragrant cigarrito, something — what it is I cannot tell—recalls all this to mind and memory; going backward through the years, reproduces the picture once again in all its startling, painful vividness. H-a-1-l-o-o-o-a there! Thank Heaven, an answer- ing call comes back at last, and I see the Doctor, with his rifle on his shoulder, coming slowly up the moun- tain — and Bill is with him. Bill is my friend. Sun- burned American, never shall any man call you black HEALTH TO THE IV/DOH". 2Q g again in my presence ! You are a free and enlight- ened American citizen ; smoked a trifle, I admit ; but what is ham until it is smoked? Who objects to smoke? Another widow! First, the Widow of Gar- cia ; then the Widow Cliquot ! Respect for the widows is one of the most striking characteristics of the true gentleman, and I am overflowing with it. Here's to them all ! Not much luck to-day, Doctor? Well, the exer- cise will do you good, and that is a consolation at any rate. You certainly needed it. People in San Fran- cisco eat too much and drink too much, take too much sleep and too little pedestrian exercise. They don't perspire from one year's end to the next. There is all the difference in the world between this climate and that of San Francisco ; and, if I am not mistaken, there is still more between this and what you were used to the season you hibernated up there in the Sierra Nevada? Yes, there is some difference, and no mistake. Many a night I have curled myself up under three pairs of California eight-pound blankets and shivered all night long. While you are in motion you do not feel the cold so much, but when once you lie down and attempt to sleep, it would take a pile of blankets like Mount St. Helena over there to keep you from freezing to death, unless you had a roaring fire going all the time on one of those stormy nights. And a physician has almost a dead certainty of being called out on the darkest and wildest nights for his longest rides to at- tend on patients who cannot wait a moment under o IO WAITING UNDER THE MADRONO any circumstances. One night's ride which I had in the Sierra I shall certainly never forget. It was in the winter of 1868-69, when I had just been placed in charge of a division near the summit of the Sierra Nevada, on the then half-finished Central Pacific Railroad. After a long day's ride, I came back to the boarding-house at ten o'clock in the even- ing, and was told that a messenger had been there from Camp No. 10, with a request that I would lose no time in hurrying over there to attend upon John Smith, who was in a very critical condition. The messenger had been very urgent, and it was evidently a case of life and death — nothing less. I took a few minutes to consider. I was tired out, and wanted sleep badly, but could, on a pinch, go a little farther without breaking down entirely. The moon would be up at eleven o'clock, and the night was still and clear, though the snow had only just ceased falling, and was from five to eight feet deep on the level, if you can use the expression properly where there is nothing like a level to be found, and the roads — or trails, rather — are obliterated by the drifts. I inquired about the location of Camp No. 10. It was twelve miles away, and directly over a ridge, or spur, of the moun- tains. My own horse could not stand the trip, but a big lubber of a cart-horse, that they said was a good saddle-horse, was offered me. I got supper, put on dry socks and an extra pair of fur-lined overboots, and, just before midnight, was in the saddle and off. A good saddle-horse ! The brute belonged to the nightmare family, and his mother must have taken TRAVELING UNDER DIFFICULTIES. 2II special pride in him. Great heavens, what a gait! He had traveled so long in the cart that the steady jolt had communicated itself to his spine, and become chronic. At every step he jerked his back up, as if expecting to feel the girth-strap strike him underneath, and neither curses nor blows — and I labored con- scientiously to earn a reputation for liberality with both that night — would induce him for a moment to recognize the fact that he was out of the shafts, and abandon his eternal hippytyhop. When I started out, there were hard lumps in the saddle, as large as chest- nuts ; before the twelve miles were half completed, the lumps had grown to the size of paving-stones, and awfully sharp -edged and rasping. The snow which had just fallen filled the trail, but the old snow under- neath being hard-packed, and the trees along the route well blazed, I had no difficulty in keeping in the right track most of the time. But when about three miles from my place of destination, as nearly as I could guess, clouds obscured the moon for a time, and I lost the road. I kept on as well as I knew how, guessing at the location of Camp No. 10; and, after rolling down the steep side of a ravine, and working half an hour to get old Jerky back upon the ridge, filling my overshoes with snow, and fairly exhausting myself in floundering through the drifts, I was rewarded with the siofht of lights in some cabins half a mile away. Not doubting that this was Camp No. 10, I rounded a small canon, worked my way over a point of rocks, Jerky stum- bling and falling repeatedly, and reached the cabins at half past twelve o'clock. 2I2 WAITING UNDER 7 HE MADRONO. The Jights had disappeared. " Halloo the house, there!" No answer. " Halloo the house!" louder and longer than before. A panel in the side of the nearest cabin opened slowly and cautiously, and after time enough had elapsed to allow of a critical exami- nation of the party outside, a voice demanded: "Who you, John? What you wantee catchee here?" It was a Chinese wood-cutters' camp, and there was not a white man about the place. The Johns told me that there was a camp- of white men on the other side of the ravine I had just crossed, and perhaps half a mile farther up the mountain ; they thought it might be "Camp Numble 10." Half an hour's floundering through the snow brought me back to the point whence I had sighted the lights, and soon after one a. m. I was at the white men's camp. I roused the inmates more easily here, as they were indulging in a little friendly game of "pitch," or "draw" — that being Saturday night — and had not retired to their virtuous bunks. No, that was not Camp No. 10, my informer told me ; and, what was worse, Camp No. 10 was right over the summit of the mountain, a mile and a half away. I could go around by the trail three miles, or ride up to the railroad- track, tie my horse, and walk through the snow-sheds, a little more than a mile — it was contrary to the rules to take an animal inside the sheds. I started up toward the track, and reached it at two a. m. The night was now clear and still ; not the slightest noise could be heard, and the silence was something awful and oppressive. The last man and A SUOKT CUT 21 the last horse on earth will not feel more completely- alone than Jerky and I did at that moment. As I was about to dismount and tie him to a tree, a thought struck me. I knew every regular train on the road, and there was none due for hours from either direction. I had a time-table in my pocket, and I took it out and examined it carefully by the moonlight. The track was clear; why might I not venture to save my strength and that of my horse, and, by saving time, perhaps save a valuable human life as well? Why not, indeed? The more I thought of it, the more satisfied I became that it was a safe thing to do. The moon, now unobscured, was high in the heav- ens as I entered the snow-shed, and it was not very difficult to keep the way, as the light came scintillating through a thousand cracks and crevices in the roueh timber structure. Three or four culverts, to allow the passage of mountain streams when the snow is melt- ing, checked my progress for a brief time, but there was a plank across one or two, for the convenience of "foot-passengers," and as the water was hard frozen, I got old Jerky around the others in safety. The worst was over, and I was already beginning to chuckle over the adventure, and pride myself on my forethought and pluck in making the venture. I had, undoubtedly, saved at least an hour of hard work wading through the snow, and possibly — not improba- bly, in fact, saved a life. Just then I heard a low, tremu- lous, humming noise running along the frost-laden rails, and instinctively checked my horse to listen. It had subsided for the moment, and I went on in silence. 2 j a WAITING UNDER THE MADRONO. Suddenly it commenced again, and seemed louder and clearer than before. I halted again. God have mercy upon me! I exclaimed involuntarily. It was the rum- ble of the wheels of a coming train, beyond a ques- tion. I sprang to the ground and placed my ear to the rail. The train was coming from the west ; it must be a "construction train," laden with materials for the road, and possibly with laborers as well. The track occupied the full width of the shed, allowing only for the overhang of the cars. A man might es- cape by lying down ; but a horse was almost sure of death, and if the train struck him, it must go off the track almost inevitably. I was upon old Jerky's back before I was even aware of what I was doing, and started down the grade, to the eastward, as fast as his stiff and clumsy legs, urged by whip and spur, and the attraction of gravitation, could move him. Clearer and clearer came the humming noise ; and I heard, at length, a short, sharp whistle, as the rushing train entered a tunnel, turned a sharp curve, or passed out of a tunnel. It could not be more than two miles, or three at most, away. Jerky skated over the ice- patches, and floundered through the small snow-drifts which had filtered in through the crevices in the shed- work, but reckless of danger to limbs alone in pres- ence of the greater danger to myself, and perhaps hundreds of my fellow-men, I whipped and spurred unceasingly, and drove him on at the height of his speed. Nearer and nearer came the train. I could already hear the chough, chough, chough of the lo- comotive behind me. At last I saw an opening in A DILEMMA. 2I the side of the shed not many rods distant, and, with with a triumphant yell, I urged my steed to put forth his utmost effort. Sixty seconds more and I would be saved, and the danger to the train avoided. The seconds seemed hours in the feverish excitement of the moment, but they were over at last, and I sprang off my horse on the instant that he reached the open- ing, and rushed, with the rein in my hand, through the aperture. Old Jerky snorted and sprang backward, throwing me down, and pulling the rein from my hand. I saw the trouble at a glance. The opening was not of sufficient height to admit of a horse p-oinsf through it erect, and a heavy timber to which the planks were nailed, ran across the top. I sprang inside and took a survey of the situation in an instant. The beam would have borne ten times the strain that I could have brought to bear upon it, as it was a foot thick, sound, and firmly placed. I threw all my strength and weight against the planking a little beyond the beam, and fell back upon the icy ground ; the planks were imbedded in the frozen ground at their lower ends, and I could not start them in the slightest de- gree. I sprang up and ran to the other side of the shed, to -try if the planking on that side was less firmly secured. Through the crevices I saw a precipice run- ning hundreds of feet, sheer down from the side of the shed. I could not escape that way, and if the train went off there, no person on it would survive to tell the tale. I fell -on my knees to pray, but, before I had uttered a word, the thought passed through my brain that I might throw the horse down, and pull him through 2 j 5 WAITING UNDER THE MADRONO the opening by main strength. I had the rope from the saddle in my hands in an instant, and throwing it around his fore-legs, I sprang to one side, and with my whole strength attempted to trip him. The brute jumped backward and refused to fall, while the rope ran through my hands, tearing the skin, and searing the flesh as if I had grasped a red-hot iron. I remem- bered at that moment having seen a Mexican vaquero showing off his skill in horsemanship, at San Jose, amid an admiring throng, and making the sneering remark to a friend, "And he is nothing but a bull- driver, after all." In that time of supreme agony, I would have sacrificed every advantage of birth, educa- tion, talent, and professional skill, and changed places with that uneducated, despised, bull-driving Greaser, merely to have received in turn the gift of the ability to perform the trick of throwing down a horse. My foot struck a stick of wood, such as is used for burn- ing on the locomotives, which was lying on the ground, and I instantly stooped to get it, determined to beat the brains out of the brute with it, or at least stun him into insensibility, and then pull him into the opening. It was frozen fast in the ice, and I could not tear it loose, though I put forth strength which seemed herculean, in the frenzy of my excitement. It occurred to me that I had a pocket-knife, and I might cut his throat; but the train was almost upon me, and there was no time for him to bleed to death ; this reflection did not consume a second and a half. In my despair, I gave one long-drawn yell — " Help! " No answer came. The train rushed on, as it seemed to me, with light- A NARROW ESCAPE. 2I - ning speed, upon the down grade, and the light of the •locomotive head- lamp already fell upon me. Ten seconds more, and there would be a terrific crash, and a pile of broken cars ; and crushed, bleeding and dying men would burst through the side of the shed, and go rolling down the mountain side. Deadly faint, and convinced that all was nearly over, I staggered against the side of the shed, closed my eyes, and sank half down to the ground. I heard Jerky give a sud- den snort of terror, and opened my eyes. He had discovered the danger at last, and comprehended it all in an instant. The train could not have been more than thirty feet from him, when he made one tremend- ous jump, and went through the opening. The beam caught the high Mexican saddle, tore it into fragments, and frightfully lacerated his back, but his weight, and the strength which mortal terror gave him, carried him through, and he fell in the snow outside. I sprang after him, just as the locomotive came abreast of me, and fell, trembling, exhausted and fainting beside him. I don't think the engineer saw us at all. I did not see him, so far as I could remember afterward. It was half an hour before I could gather strength enough to regain my feet. When I did so, I got my ex- hausted and bleeding horse upon his legs, and replaced the wreck of the saddle upon his lacerated back, se- curing it, as well as I could, with some thongs cut from the edge of the rein, and my pocket-handker- chief, torn into strips, and prepared to resume my journey. In a canon, filled with the black shadow of the mountain, I saw what appeared to be the dim 2 j g WAITING UNDER THE MADRONO. outlines of several cabins. That must be Camp No. 10. Pulling my limping steed after me by the bridle* I made my way slowly and painfully down to the nearest cabin, and knocked at the door. "Git!" was the response which came to the third or fourth knock. I repeated the knocking. "Git! you drunken son of a gun ! You have been yelling around here long enough! Leave — or I'll put a bullet through you! " came in decided and most emphatic tones from within. I called out that I was the doctor from Camp — , not the man they mistook me for, and wanted to know if that was Camp No. io, and if John Smith was there — John Smith, who was dying, and wanted the doctor so bad. There was a moment's debate in whispers, between two or more persons inside; then I heard the scratching of matches and the shuffling of heavy slippers over the floor, and at last the door was opened, " Be you the doctor? Well, you are a pow- erful weak-looking young chicken for a doctor!" said John Smith — for it proved to be he — after he had held the candle to my face, and deliberately scrutinized my person for some seconds. "You sent for me, I think, Mr. Smith?" "Well, yes, I did send for you; but I'm kinder sorry now that I did, for I have concluded to go over thar to-morrow on business, anyhow." "But the messenger said you were dying, or the next thing to it — almost dead, I think he said." " Well, yes, I was pretty considerable scared at the time. You see I had a eruption come out right bad on my leg, and I was afraid it might be pleurisy, or GIT! 2J9 new-amonia, or erysifilus, or suthin o' that sort, and if I come over in the snow and catched cold in it, I might 'a gone in." He sat down on the side of his bunk, and pulled up the drawers from his right shin: there was a patch of ringworm there, about the size of a silver dollar — and that was all. I made use of some strong expressions. I don't often swear, but I felt aggravated, under all the circumstances, and considered myself justified. I still so consider. Mr. Smith heard me through. Then he arose majestically to his feet, and thus relieved himself: "Young man! I jest put you up for a derned fool, on first sight — an' I wan't sold much! Ef you hain't got no more sense nor to git mad 'bout trifles, you'll have many a long day ter wait 'fore you'll be called on again to visit this camp — an' it's goin' to be a right lively camp in the spring, you bet ! I did perpose to ask yer ter take a drink, bein' as how it's late, an' you must a' had a purty good ride over the mounting ; but now, I'd jest see yer blessed first. Thar's the door; git! you derned, ornary, wizened, contemptible little scrub, an' don't come foolin' around here no more, ef yer don't want ter git hurt! Git!" I took his advice, and "got" without another word, just as the gray dawn began to streak the sky over beyond the Washoe mountains. There they come at last! I can see their horses winding around the ridge across the cailon yonder. Bill, unpack the basket, and have everything in readi- ness for the lunch. Hunters, fishermen and clergy- men generally have powerful appetites. CHAPTER X. AROUND THE MOUNTAIN CAMP FIRE. The Fountain of Youth. — Hunting for Trouble. — Mike Durfee's Snake. — The Days of '49. — A Tragedy in the Redwoods. — When shall We Three Meet Again ? — Story of the Champion Mule of El Dorado. — How a Green Down- Easter Struck it Rich. — Result of Misplaced Confidence. — Sensational Re- ports Deprecated. — Out-Door Amusements in Arizona. — An Alarm in Camp. — The Mountains by Moonlight. — Parting under the Madrono. — Adios ! Nowhere on earth, I think, does one so relish food and drink as around the camp-fire. On the treeless plains of the West and Southwest, in the rugged, Indian-haunted mountains of Western Texas and Central Arizona, even on the bare, hot sands of the deserts of Nevada and Southern California, there is always a weird attraction, and a sense of hearty enjoyment in the evenieg around the camp-fire. Some of the happiest hours of my life, many of them, I may say, have been spent around the camp-fire, and ever and anon the old lonmnor for wild life and dan- gerous adventure comes over me even in the busiest hours of city life, and the desire to shake civilization and all its comforts and refinements, and go back to the wilderness, becomes almost uncontrolable. The charm of danger is year by year being lost to camp life in California, but exciting adventure may still be found, and there is nothing equal to a glowing camp- fire to bring out anecdotes of the past and re-awaken (220) CAMPING OUT. 20I the recollections of the wild life of other days ; or, as Beranger would express it : " The bra\e days when we were twenty-one." And of all places on earth for solid comfort in camp there is none like California. The pure, dry, mount- ain air is always so healthful and invigorating, and the nice, dry ground is worth all the spring mattresses in Christendom for a bed. And then it never rains in Cali- fornia during the spring, summer and autumn months. Given a shot-gun, a rifle, fishing-tackle, blankets to sleep in, a frying-pan, coffee-pot and cups, a little flour, salt, pepper and a few sundries, and a bunch of matches, and, with two or three jolly companions — it is none the worse if the party is half made up of ladies, so that they are possessed of sense and know how to rough it and enjoy it — your " outfit" is complete. " Better fifty years of Europe than a cycle of Cathay." Better one month of camp life in the California mountains, than years on years of life at the fashion- able "watering-places" and "summer resorts" of the East and Europe. Ponce de Leon sought in vain for the Fountain of Youth in the swamps and forests of Florida — he was looking" in the wrong direction. I found the fountain years ago up in a quiet canon, under the madrono trees, in the mountains of California ; and every time I drink of its waters and camp by its side, Time, at my bidding, turns back in his flight, and I am only a boy again. We lunched with such hearty satisfaction, and found the mountain air and scenery so much to our liking, 222 AROUND THE MOUNTAIN CAMP FIRE. that we were loth to leave it and return to the city. So we took a vote on the proposition, decided to go into camp for the night at least, and, having dispatched Bill to Calistoga for blankets and cooking apparatus, proceeded to make ourselves at home. There are always people who will go poking around hunting for trouble and disagreeable things wherever they happen to be. Curse all such people, I say ! What is the use of it? " Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof," is the wisest saying between the lids of the bible, and I travel on it. We had one of these people in our party, and he knocked around in the bushes until he found a rattlesnake. It did not bite anybody, and was not looking for anybody to bite, and if it had not been stirred up with a stick and set to rattling, no one would have known it was there. As it was, it frightened the ladies and destroyed the pleasure of the party for hours. More fool the man who found it. I can recall one incident in my lifetime, and one only, in which snakes had a healthy effect and ren- dered a service to humanity. Some ten years ago the San Francisco bar numbered amongf its members many jolly, good fellows, who were given to free in- dulgence in the pleasures of the table, and not un- frequently passed the limits of prudence, and wrestling too ardently with old King Alcohol, were thrown and severely hurt. Among them was Mike Durfee, now a strictly temperate man, a successful lawyer and an exemplary citizen, after nearly all his old associates have succumbed and passed away. When Mike DICK D UK FEE. 22 "went on a tear" it was a long and desperate one, and its result was a foregone conclusion. The report- ers for the daily press of San Francisco were sitting one morning in their special quarter in the Police Court room, taking notes of the trials and sentences of the thieves, vagrants, burglars, wife- whippers, drunk- ards, and all other offscourings of humanity who at- tend the daily levees of his honor, when Mike, who, in pursuance of his time-honored custom, had been "run- ning all night," and was just on the debatable ground between sudden reform and delirium tremens, came in, and leaning up against the partition which separ- ates the reporters from that of the shysters, fell fast asleep. Seeing him in that position, the writer reached over to the chair always occupied by poor old Dick R (Rattlesnake Dick, as we used to call him by way of affectionate endearment, was a special favorite with all the reporters of that day), and pulled out a little roll of curled hair from the cushion. This hair was rolled into a hard wad, about the size of a large marrowfat pea, and dropped quietly inside of Mike's shirt-collar, where it lodged without in the least disturbing his slumbers. The morning wore on and the business of the day was nearly concluded, and still Mike slept on. At last a case was called, in which Mike was interested, or supposed to be, and the bailiff in attendance shook him by the shoulder, with the emphatic adjuration, "Here Mike, wake up; your case is called! " Mike awoke with a start, and stepping out promptly in front of the Judge's desk, threw out his right arm in oratorical style, began — 224 AROUND THE MOUNTAIN CAMP FIRE. " Your honor, I propose " At that instant the ball of curled hair, which had been confined between his shirt-collar and his neck, set free by the change in his position, commenced rolling down his chest upon the unprotected cuticle, like a spider with ten thousand sharp, clawed feet, going after his prey in a hurry. Mike felt it, and every nerve in his system thrilled in response, as if struck by the shock from a galvanic battery. Springing about four feet clear of the floor, he yelled in wild despair, "Whoop! Hell's Blazes! Snakes!" and came down with a jar which shook the whole room, with hair on end, eyes in frenzy rolling, and face of the hue of death; fairly gasp- ing for breath, he snatched at his collar convulsively, tore it open, and following the descending serpent with desperate haste, tore every button off his shirt bosom in succession, grasping the dread monster at last as it paused in its career at its waist, where his pants were cinched so tightly that it could go no fur- ther, drew it forth, with hand trembling so that he could scarcely hold it, and sank faint, sick and help- less into a chair. Meantime the commotion in the Court room was something indescribable. The Judge sprang to his feet in astonishment and ill- concealed apprehension; the spectators and members of the bar, under the impression that Mike had gone suddenly crazy, or been violently attacked with the delirutm tremens, were seized with a panic, and upsetting chairs, benches and each other in their haste to get out of his reach, fled from the room, as the demon fled from the chamber where the fish of Tobit lay — probably "SNAKES IN HIS BOOTS." 22 r holding his nose as he did so — while to crown the uproar and confusion, a tall policeman who had been sitting with his feet braced against the large upright stove, and his chair tipped back, straightening himself out in his effort to rise and join in the flight, sent the stove end over end on the floor, the long pipe follow- ing suit, and coming down on the affrighted crowd joint by joint, flinging clouds of sticky ccal-soot and smoke in all directions. When the stampede was over at last, and Mike had so far recovered from his attack of snakes as to be able to comprehend the situ- ation, he arose, tottered over to the reporters' desk, and thus freed his mind: "By , if I murdered the man who put that centipede in my bosom, any jury in Christendom would render a verdict of justifiable hom- icide ! But, boys, it's my next deal, and I'll be if you ever get a chance to play that on me again ! If it had got down into my boots I'd never have drawn another sane breath so long as I lived. As it is, I'll never draw another drunken one, damn you ! " And Mike kept his word like a man, stopped drink- ing entirely, devoted himself to the practice of his profession industriously, rose step by step in public estimation, and now holds an important office, to which he was elected by the votes of his life-long friends and acquaintances, many of whom to this day tell with infinite gusto and roars of laughter the story of Mike Durfee's snake. We built a glorious camp-fire in the little opening like an artificial clearing in front of the great madrono, and with the remnants of our lunch and the spoils of 15 22 5 AROUND THE MOUNTAIN CAMP FIRE. the forest and mountain streams, got up a supper that a prince might envy. Did you ever roll a mountain trout in wet paper or green leaves and roast him like a potato in the hot ashes? If not, you have yet to learn the first lesson in gastronomic enjoyment. Soyer was a fool ! I will match a California mount- ain trout so cooked against all the "made dishes" he ever produced, and trust to any jury on earth for a verdict in my favor ; no, in favor of the trout, I mean. After supper, when we had made up our quarters for the night and gathered ourselves comfortably around the blazing camp-fire, the fun commenced. Few of the stories brought out on such occasions will bear the test of repetition in print. It wants the mountain air, the wild, romantic surroundings, the jolly com- panionship and good fellowship to give them the hearty zest which makes them so enjoyable at the moment. How quickly the "forty-niners" go back to the mining- camps and the wild scenes of those early days, and live over again the life of the pioneer gold-hunters, who poured in a torrent over the Sierra, and, in an almost incredible space of time, searched every canon, nook and crevice of the mountains for the precious metal, tore up the soil of every hillside from Siskiyou to Fresno, marring and disfiguring the whole face of nature for all time, and then leaving their cities and villages, which had sprung up like Jonah's gourd in a single night, to fall to decay and slowly disappear from sight, and almost from memory even, scattered far and wide over the whole earth, little dreaming of the true wealth of El Dorado V ANITAS VANITATUM! 2 „ 7 wliich they left, untouched and undeveloped, for a priceless heritage to those less adventurous souls who should come slowly plodding after them in other years. Of all that mighty host, not more than one in a hundred remains in California to-day. In neglected graves, in the red earth of the Sierra, in the shadow of the cross of Calvary, under the laurel and willows of Lone Mountain, in the great depths of the sea, in the trenches of innumerable bat- tlefields, in far-off Australia or Southern Africa, in Alaska, in Arizona, in Mexico, in Nicaragua, they sleep their last sleep. Wherever gold was to be sought for, wildernesses to be reclaimed, suffering to be endured, blood to be shed, they wandered, and fought, and died by thou- sands. They were a rough set — ready with the knife and the revolver, free-handed and liberal withal to the last degree — rich to-day, poor to-morrow, hopeful always, and game to the last When the placers of California are exhausted, and the-orchard and vineyard cover every hillside, the stories of their reckless ad- ventures and wild career will be repeated again and again, and listened to with interest by every class in the community. "The days of '49" will ever be memorable as marking the most striking and wonder- ful epoch in the history of the Pacific coast. After them everything will seem stale, and flat, and tame to the youthful reader of history. As the hours of evening wore on, one and an- other took up the story of pioneer life, and many an anecdote, new to me and hitherto unprinted, was 22 g AROUND THE MOUNTAIN CAMP FIRE. related by eye-witnesses. Among them was the following-: After the first rush to the placers, and when the building of permanent towns had fairly commenced, lumber fit for building purposes became in great de- mand, and in the forest near the sea coast, where transportation was readily obtainable, immense camps sprung up, and the scenes of the flush times in the mines were repeated. Lumber was worth hundreds of dollars per thousand feet, and money was gained and lost with a lavishness and rapidity almost incred- ible in these days. In one camp in the redwood for- ests of Humboldt, not far from the present town of Eureka, there were some six hundred men at work, and business was lively, in every sense of the word. There were two "stores" at which articles for miners' and lumbermen's use — heavy clothing, groceries, pro- visions, and notably whisky and cards — were dispensed at round prices. Every store in those days was a saloon, and a gambling- house as well; and poker, monte, faro and fights were the order of the day and night. It was no uncommon thing for a prosperous gambler on a Sunday morning to knock the head out of a barrel of whisky, put a tin cup in it, and set it in the middle of the store, for all comers to help them- selves free of charge. And it was the dearest whisky man ever drank at that, for nine out of every ten who partook of it left from ten to a thousand times its nominal value at the gambler's bank before he went home that night. The feast of Belshazzar was nothing to the wild carousals which took place sometimes in KANOFFSKY. 22g that camp. There were six of us in our cabin — no two from the same State, I think — and a pretty good crowd we were generally. But whisky and gambling will tell in the end, and they did on us. Among the party was one tall, finely-built, athletic man, of some twenty-eight or thirty years of age, who went by the name of "Kanoffsky." The name would indicate a Polish Jew, but he was evidently nothing of the sort, and the name was like that of half the others in camp, merely assumed through caprice or the desire to con- ceal identity while the possessor was laboring to re- trieve a broken fortune or a ruined character. I always thought that he was a collegian, probably a graduate of Harvard or Yale, and he was undoubt- edly a New Englander of good family. Curiously enough, his boon companion was a rough, uncouth, uneducated Missourian, who went by the common nickname of "Pike," about the last man in the world one would think to attract the sympathy and secure the confidence of an educated gentleman, such as " Kanoffsky" evidently was. But misfortune and mining excitements make strange bed-fellows. Their intimacy was casually remarked upon by everybody in camp, but in those days we thought little of any social phenomena — we had little time or inclination to think long and seriously about anything — and for a long time nothing important seemed to come of it. But at last an event occurred which startled and ex- cited the whole camp. One dark, stormy Sunday night in the mid- winter season, when the wind roared through the forest in broken, savage blasts, and the 2*«3 AROUND THE MOUNTAIN CAMP FIRi rain fell in torrents, at briet intervals snatches of star- light intervening, Kanoffsky and Pike were absent until far past midnight, and we had all retired to our bunks with a certain undefined feeling of impending trouble, which every one has felt at times, but which no one can ever fully explain and account for. At last Pike, with an uncertain step, was heard coming in alone. He seated himself before the huge log fire, which had burned well down, but still gave off a ruddy glow from its great heap of fresh coals, par- tially lighting up the entire cabin, and drawing off his wet boots, remained toasting his feet for some time in moody silence. To inquiries as to the whereabouts of Kanoffsky, he replied somewhat testily that he did not know: that he had left him down at the stores half drunk early in the evening, and knew nothing more about it. His manner was peculiar, and pro- duced the impression on myself and companions that he had been in difficulty with some one, probably over some gambling affair, and was " out of sorts, " as well as a little drunk. While he sat there over the fire, one of our party got up, went outside and brought in another back log, which he threw upon the fire to prevent its burning out entirely before morning, and compelling us to rekindle it with matches and wet wood — a task of some difficulty. As he turned back from the fire, he remarked, "I stumbled over some- thing outside there which I cannot make out ! It felt like a bag of shot!" Pike looked up uneasily but said nothing. The man who had been out took a brand from the fire and stepping back to the door, FOUL PLAY. 2 r l\ stooped down and examined the object over which he had stumbled. With a puzzled air he lifted it up and brought it inside. It was, as he had said, like a bag of shot, and proved to be a shot-bag filled with gold- dust. There was blood in great blotches on the bao;. We all sat up in our bunks to look at it, and the in- quiry broke from each in succession as to whom it belonged. " Well, damn you, if you all must know, it's mine!" growled out Pike at last. "Where the mischief did you- get such a bag of dust as that ? " said one. Pike, who now seemed now to be half drunk and half crazy, replied, "Well, it's none of your damned business anyhow ; but if you must know, I got on a little spree down at the camp, and some of us cleaned out that Jew store." Starting from my bunk, I exclaimed: " Boys, there has been murder here, sure as heaven. That old Jew and his son never submitted to be robbed while they had the breath of life left! Pike, you must consider yourself a prisoner." The words were hardly out of my mouth, when Pike sprang up, and grasping me by the throat hurled me back upon the bunk with a savage imprecation, swearing that he would kill me on the instant if I did not take them back. All three of my companions were on him at once, and thoucrh he stru^crled like a madman, as he was, we got him down at last and tied him. Then he suddenly changed his tune, and tried to laugh it off. It was only a joke, he said, and 2^2 AROUND THE MOUNTAIN CAMP FIRE. nobody had been hurt. Untie him, and he would go back at once with the dust. We were more convinced than ever that there had been murder, and one of the party volunteered to ride over to the main camp, some mile and a half distant, and find out what had occurred, while the other three kept guard over Pike. He started off and was gone about two hours. Just after daybreak he returned with a crowd of companions, all deeply excited. They had gone to the Jew's store, found it closed but not locked up, and on entering with lights, had beheld a spectacle frightful beyond the power of words to de- scribe. The store was kept by a Jew of some fifty-five or sixty years of age, and his son, a boy of eighteen or nineteen, both of whom usually slept in the place. The old man lay on the floor of the main store-room, horribly chopped and mutilated with a hatchet, his skull fractured, jaw broken, one ear chopped off, and a great number of cuts on his head, face and breast, but still breathing. The floor was covered with blood, like that of a slaughter-house, and the marks of a desperate struggle for life were everywhere visible. In the back room they found the boy literally hacked to pieces and cold in death. The drawers had been forced open and rifled, and a trunk, kept under the counter and used for storing gold dust, coin and val- uables, for want of a safe, stood smashed open and empty on the floor near the body of the old man, who had evidently fallen in attempting to defend it from the robbers, who had entered by the front window and rear door simultaneously. The news spread like MURDER WILL OUT. „ ~ wildfire through the camp, and in a short time Kan- offsky, who had been out in the woods, undoubtedly hiding his share of the plunder, was arrested on his way back to our cabin. The party arrived at our place, provided with a rope, and fully prepared to make Pike open his mouth, and tell the whole story, or "swing for it" instanter. At the sight of the rope he weakened, and related how it was all done. The party, consisting of four persons — himself, Kan- offsky and two others who had escaped on horse- back to the mountains and were never arrested — had planned the robbery some weeks before, and waited patiently for a dark night to carry it into exe- cution. After the robbery and murder, Pike, in a spirit of recklessness or insanity — he could never give any reason for his conduct — started directly for our cabin, intending to hide the bag of gold-dust in a hol- low stump, or some similar receptacle convenient to the place, until he could get it safely inside the house; but finding none in the darkness, brought it on until he reached the door, then laid it down where it was found, and went in to think the matter over and de- cide how he should dispose of it. Had one of our party not gone out to get the log to replenish the fire, it is probable that he might have succeeded in getting it hidden after all, and possibly escaped sus- picion of being connected with the murder, as the two of his companions who escaped would naturally have been credited with the entire transaction. A Lynch Court was organized immediately, Kan- offsky and Pike tried, found guilty, and sentenced to o„„ AROUND 7 HE MOUNTAIN CAMP FIRE. be hanged. All business was suspended for the day in the camp, and nothing else was thought or talked of. Kanoffsky denied all connection with the affair from first to last, and the place where he had hidden his share of the plunder was never found, though search was made for it for years. A similar murder was committed in Tuolumne county in 1851, and the money, amounting to several thousand dollars in coin, buried by the murderers near the cabin. It was sought after for years, but it was not until twenty years later, in the summer of 1 87 1, that a party of miners sluicing away the hillside where the cabin had stood, unearthed it and shared the spoil between them, all the original actors in the tragedy having passed away meantime. The plunder hidden by Kanoffsky may possibly be unearthed in some such manner years, or centuries even, hence. When the execution took place a minister was sent for, and he labored earnestly for hours with the mur- derers Pike and Kanoffsky, but all in vain — not a sign of repentance or contrition did either give. Led out at last to the tree on which they were to die, the halters were placed around their necks, and they were asked if they had anything more to say. Pike said he had told the whole story and had nothing more to say. Kanoffsky called me to him, and, holding out his hand, said, "Well, good by, old fellow; I can't blame you! When it's all over, write to my " He stopped there, thought a moment, and then said, "No, you needn't though; it is better as it is! Here, A WAKING REALITY. „ - z 35 take this handkerchief out of my breast-pocket, and do me the favor to tie my hands securely behind me. I might go up after the rope and make the entertain- ment too lengthy. It is getting late, and the audience will want to adjourn as soon as possible. Please slip the knot a little further around in front so that it will come just under my ear. All ready ; now go on with the performance!" The cart started off on the in- stant — down went both the men, their bodies swayed convulsively in the air for a few moments, and all was over. Who or what Kanoffsky was we never learned, the secret of his real name and history dying with him. That night all hands in camp went on a general spree, and the carousal was kept up until far towards day- break. The keeper of the other store furnished the liquor, and got blind drunk on it himself before the spree was over. Everybody admitted that he kept very mean liquor. Among the crowd were two young fellows, less intoxicated than the rest, and they finished up the performance by going out and cutting down the bodies of Kanoffsky and Pike, bringing them into the store, and setting them them up against the wall. They then took the storekeeper, propped him up be- tween them, and left him alone with the dead. When he awoke from his stupor next morning and looked around him, the face of a ghastly corpse, with the rope still around its neck, grinned at him from either side ; and on the floor at his feet were scrawled with chalk the familiar words : "When shall we three meet again!" He went out of that place on the 2 „ 5 AROUND THE MOUNTAIN CAMP FIRE. dead jump, yelling "murder" at the top of his lungs, and it was days before his nerves became quiet enough to enable him to mix a cocktail with anything like his accustomed skill and neatness. Practical jokes were common in those days, and the jokers were by means fastidious as to the manner of playing them or their result. If life and limb were endangered, so much the better. I remember a man in Placerville, then called "Hangtown," from numer- ous little episodes in its history, which had resulted disastrously to parties involved in them, who owned a mule, which was admitted to be the champion animal for pure, unadulterated viciousness on the Pacific coast. He would start on the slightest hint. The rattle of a tin .pan was poison to him ; and in running away, he always made it a point to knock down and injure somebody. If he stampeded, and did not get a chance to kill or maim some one, he felt he had to account for a day wasted, and would stand for hours in deep dejection, his ears hanging down limp and lifeless ; then suddenly rush across the street, whirl around and kick with all his might at a child or woman, by way of getting even and making up for lost time. It was a standing joke with the jolly boys of Hangtown to lend him to a party of newly arrived miners, to pack their traps to some placer mining-camp, and at the hour for starting gather in front of the express office to see him go off like a rocket, scatter everything right and left, and break for the chaparral, leaving the astonished gold- hunters to gather their traps and BEWARE OF THE MULE. „ - lament over the blasting of their prospects at their leisure. It was as much as a man's life was worth to go within reach of his heels ; and it was necessary to muzzle him to keep him from eating everybody who came within reach of his jaws. One day a remark- ably green specimen of the veritable "down-east Yank" came into Hangtown from the plains, and in- quired for the nearest and best place to make a for- tune in the diggings. He was kindly directed to a promising gulch, and, as he was hard up, the use of the champion mule to pack his grub, tools, blankets and traps was generously tendered him. He pro- posed to start at eight o'clock next morning, and all the jokers in town, comprising the larger share of the male population of the place, were on hand at the ap- pointed time to see him off. Promptly at the time, the greenhorn from the land of steady habits made his appearance, and commenced to pack the mule. The heavy aparejo was placed on his back and securely cinched ; flour, beef, bacon, etc., etc., strapped on that, and then a miscellaneous collection of pans, kettles, shovels, picks, etc., etc., corded on top of all, and the load was completed. Up to this time the mule had stood there as quiet as a lamb, but the fun, as all save the greenhorn in that goodly company well knew, was about to commence. The owner of the mule invited all hands to take a drink, at two bits a glass, and the invitation was cheerfully accepted. They all shook hands with the victim, and bid him God speed on his journey as he came out of the saloon and made ready to start. The piazza and sidewalk were crowded, and 2 „g AROUND THE MOUNTAIN CAMP FIRE. everybody was ready to yell at the moment the sig- nal was given. Judge of the surprise, indignation and disgust which took possession of the crowd, when they saw that infamous mule walk off like a pet lamb with that confiding victim of their pleasantry, and dis- appear in the distance without so much as giving a snort, a kick, or even a parting look behind him at the friends and companions of his youth ! The owner of the mule watched him until he disappeared over the hill, then invited all hands in to take another drink. He was dead beat, dumbfounded and non- plussed. What influence could have been at work on the brute to induce him to thus suddenly go back upon every tradition of his race, and forfeit his long and well-earned reputation, he could not for the life of him imagine, and he got blind drunk while puzzling his mind over the problem. It was noon when the greenhorn reached the gulch to which he had been directed, and presented a note from the owner of the mule to his partner, who was mining there in a claim, which had formerly paid hand- somely, but was then nearly worked out. The wink went around the mining party when the letter of in- troduction was read, and on the innocent victim in- quiring for a " first-rate spot to dig out the gold in big chunks," he was directed to a tree up on the side hill, some two hundred feet above the level of the gulch, as a first-rate point at which to stick up the usual notice and commence. The victim meant busi- ness. He did not propose to waste any time in look- ing around, and at his request one of the party wrote AN UNEXPECTED FIND. „q_ him out a mining-claim notice, which he at once posted on the tree as directed. There was not the trace of a "color" anywhere near that tree. In fact, it was evident to the eye of a professional miner at a glance that gold would never be found there. But the green- horn, in blissful ignorance, pulled off his coat, rolled up his sleeves, and went in at once to dig a prospect- ing hole. The party in the gulch below saw him gradually sink down into the earth and disappear, as hour after hour he plied the pick and shovel with sturdy arm and determined will, and many were the "winks and nods, and wreathed smiles," to say noth- ing of broad grins and hearty guffaws which went around at his expense. About four p. m. they heard a shout from the prospecting hole in which he had disappeared, and a moment later he came out with a bound like a deer, and yelling like a madman, came down the face of the hill twenty feet at a jump, hold- ing high above his head a nugget, or "chispa," of pure gold, weighing over $900. All was excitement in the camp in a minute. The chispa was examined and its character decided at once. Then they examined the hole, and decided that he had struck upon a pocket, or seam, of decayed quartz, where the gold set free had not been washed, and had remained undisturbed in its place. Such pockets often paid enormously. A lucky Irishman once found one near where the Catholic Or- phan Asylum now stands, on the hill above the town of Grass Valley, took out a wheelbarrow-load of gold in a few hours, went raving mad over his suddenly acquired wealth, and died in the State Insane Asylum. 2 4Q AROUND THE MOUNTAIN CAMP FIRE. Even as late as October, 1871, such a pocket was struck by a drunken Swede, near Georgetown, El Dorado county, and he took out $100,000 in a single day, then went on a drunk, which he has not yet got over. Such pockets are good things to have. The com- pany in the gulch, in which the owner of the mule was a lar^e stockholder, after some baro-ainincr bought the claim for $10,000, paid him down in gold-dust and orders on their partners, and hurried him off for Placerville early next morning, lest he should repent of his bargain and want to back out. Next morninof they were at work there bright and early, while he was collecting his money in Placerville, and getting ready to "go down to the Bay" — i. c, to visit San Francisco. This was on Wednesday. The mule was delivered to his delighted owner, and, in consideration of his good services, enjoyed tall feed in a livery- stable for the rest of the week. His proprietor, anxious to inspect his new source- of untold wealth, hired a horse and started at once for the gulch. On Saturday he returned with a face as long as the moral law, and black as a thunder-cloud. The party who purchased the victim's claim, himself included, had worked it for three days in succession, and given the whole side hill a thorough prospecting. They found two small nuggets, aggregating about $12, the first day ; nothing on the second ; and the third day was even as the one before it. They were sold, bilked, swindled, wronged, out and injured to the tune of $10,000. What became of the greenhorn they could DGUBTFUL GREENNESS. 2 .j never discover, and to this day they have the impres- sion very strong in their minds that he was a "fraud from the word go," never saw Massachusetts in his life, and had put up the whole job on an unsuspecting and confiding community. If he had ever visited Hangtown again, the place would have earned an additional claim to its popular designation. But that guilty mule received his reward. On the morning following the return of his affectionate proprietor from the gulch, he was found in his stall with his back broken. It was suesrested that he had dislocated his vertebrae in the vain effort to kick a fly off the end of his nose with his hind feet, or in attempting to reach the roof of the stable with his heels, there being noth- ing else in reach for him to exercise his strength upon in a playful manner; but his heart-broken owner knew better, and wisely kept his own counsel. As an ex- pert and a life-long advocate of the decencies and amenities of life, I give my unqualified professional opinion that it was done with a club — and served him right. A few such examples as that unworthy mule afforded would utterly dissipate and destroy all one's confidence and trust in human nature. Rough practical jokers though these old miners and frontiersmen always are, they are proverbially sensi- tive to newspaper criticism, and ready at all times to resent any liberty taken with their names or reputa- tions. In an earlier chapter I have related how the man who fell from the roof of a three-story building on the corner of Montgomery and California streets, in San Francisco, compelled me to retract the asser- 2 A2 AROUND THE MOUNTAIN CAMP FIRE. tion that, as he fell past the second story window, he, seeing a party inside playing seven up, and noticing that the dealer was turning the Jack from the bottom of the deck, called out ''None of that!" It is ten to one that if the owner of that black-hearted mule is still living, and ever reads the above truthful account of his adventure, he will sue me for damages for libel on account of the insinuation as to the manner of the death of the animal. It is only two or three years since an old and val- ued friend, a kind-hearted, energetic and determined frontiersman, to whom I am indebted for many an act of true politeness and hospitality in a country where such words have something more than a conventional meaning, wrote to me as follows : Wickenburg, Arizona, , 186-. Dear Col.: — We have had a very unpleasant affair here this week. Dick Snelling, whom you will re- member, got on a spree, and being told that a Chileno, or a Portuguese, had threatened his life, got a shot- gun and started hunting him on the street. He un- fortunately met a man who looked like the man he was hunting for, and shot him dead, and in the ex- citement of the moment scalped him. Now, you know that I never favored scalping white men, but Dick is as good a fellow as ever lived, and if he had not been drunk he would not have done it. He has got a nice family, and for his sake and for theirs I would not like to see an exaggerated account of the affair get into the papers. Will you oblige by seeing that no sensational account of it is given in San Fran- cisco ? Your friend, BY THE LIGHT OF THE MOON. „ , , -to WillinQf to oblige a friend at all times. I o-ave merely the simple facts, without displayed headings as com- ments, and all was lovely The camp at last is quiet ; the last story has been told, and the tellers, one by one, all save myself, have dropped off into the arms of sleep. All is silence in the mountains. Not a breath of breeze disturbs the foliage of the trees, and outside the camp not a liv- ing object is to be seen. The moon, which had risen over the eastern mountains, floods valley and hill, forest and mountain, with golden light, beautifying and glorifying the whole landscape with its touch. The glassy green leaves of the great madrono over- head orlow and glisten in the moonlight like a cascade of molten silver, and the dark laurels beyond the canon are transformed into a golden-foliaged grove, such as glitter, rank on rank, by the banks of the rivers of Paradise A dog which accompanied us on the expedition raises his head from time to time, and peers furtively into the dense chaparral, uttering a low, uneasy whine. His ears are sharper than ours, and he is conscious of the presence of an enemy unknown to us. Suddenly he springs to his feet, and, darting past the dying fire to the edge of the chaparral, utters a wild, angry bark, and in an instant a heavy body goes crashing away through the bushes, with a long, sharp " Yap-yap-yap- yah-hoo-ooo!" From the hillside above, from the canon in the shadow below, from rock and glen, and glade and chaparral, comes a quick response ; and for 244 AROUND THE MOUNTAIN CAMP FIRE. five minutes it seems that there are half a thousand instead of half a dozen angry, prowling coyotes howl- ing around us. The infernal chorus dies away at last, and once more all is silent in camp and on the moun- tain. The grey dawn creeps slowly over the eastern mountains ; the horizon takes on the roseate hues of the inner surface of the sea-shell, then glows with gold and royal purple ; and, as the forest air is filled with the song of birds, and all nature rejoices in the glory of the springtime, the sun rises grandly over St. Helena, and the whole landscape glows like mol- ton gold at his touch. On the bank of the grand canal, between Lakes Chalco and Tezcuco, in the val- ley of Mexico, stands a fonda, upon whose wall is painted the inscription, "A La Sol de California." Who can stand here and behold such a scene as this, and not sympathize in his inmost heart with the author of that inscription? And here, companions in my wanderings, friends of my heart, I leave you, one and all, and reluctantly say good bye! Together we have galloped through the valleys and climbed the mountains in search of health, curious ad- venture, strange sights and scenes, and the beautiful in nature, in the glorious land of the madrono. Per- chance we have not accomplished all we anticipated when we started out; have missed something for which we sought ; failed in something which we de- sired. But we have seen much to remember, some- thing- that was new and strange, and cheated care AD70S. o , - and toil out of some right pleasant hours. I trust that you have been repaid for your trouble, and en- joyed yourselves as I have. If so, I am glad, and we may at no distant day renew our acquaintance, and in broader fields and other lands seek for grander and more stirring adventure. But, in any event, let us still be as we have been, good friends ; and as we part this morning here beneath the madrono tree, let us shake hands all round, as is the goodly custom of the country, and say with reverent sincerity, each to each — Adios ! CHAPTER XL THE CHINESE FEAST OF THE DEAD. Weird and Ghostly Scene in a Chinese Temple at Midnight. — The Story o\ Concatenation Bill, and the True History of the Great Indian Fight on the Gila. What a strange, peculiar people are these Chinese ! Dwelling among us, they are not of us ; but are born and grow up, and toil and die here in the midst of the boasted civilization of the nineteenth century, just as they have been being born and growing up, and toil- ing and dying, for ages on ages, in the "Central Flowery Empire" on the other shore of the blue Pacific. They walk the same streets and breathe the same air with us ; but they do not talk the same lan- guage ; do not act as we act ; do not reason as we reason ; do not think as we think, From the cradle to the grave, the Chinaman is always a Chinaman, adhering to the traditions of his ancestors, walking in the footsteps of his fathers, careless of the appro- bation or reprobation of the rest of mankind, except so far as it may affect him pecuniarily. Keen at a bargain, naturally quick-witted and sharp of compre- hension, a patient toiler, and skillful at every kind of handiwork to which he turns his attention, he yet halts unaccountably on the shore of progress, and is (246) A CURIOUS BELIEF. 2 . - the best representative living of the effete civilization of Asia, wedded to the traditions of the past, looking ever backwards and never forwards, All things to o all men, in commercial transactions, and wonderfully enterprising in his own way, he is a law unto himself; and our politics and ambitions, our industrial problems, and the amenities of our social life, are but as vanity and vexation of spirit to him, and he will take no part in them. Among the strangest of the strange customs which the Chinese have transplanted on American soil, is the annual "Feast of the Dead." Heaven comes nearer to the land of his birth than to any other land, and before he leaves it for barbarian regions he pro- vides for the ultimate return of his bones for inter- ment in the soil where his ancestors, in countless millions, sleep the last sleep. Meantime he believes that the spirits of his departed friends linger lovingly near the place where their bodies rest for the moment ; and so long as he remains within reach of their tem- porary resting-place, he, ever true to the traditions of his race, pays an annual visit of ceremony to it, and, with a solemn gravity which is incomprehensible to the average Caucasian mind, makes an offering of creature comforts for the delectation of the disem- bodied spirits with which his imagination peoples all the air. All Chinese festivals come at irregular periods, for the reason that their months do not correspond with our own, and they throw in an odd month from time to time to make the year come even, as we do 24S the chinese feast of the dead an odd day on our leap year. The feast of the dead came some years since in May, and I well remember visiting the Chinese quarter of Lone Mountain Ceme- tery at that time to witness the ceremonies. Their New Year festivities are accompanied by an incessant roar of burning fireworks: crackers of every size, from those which pop in the slightest and most deli- cate manner, to those which make a report like a young cannon, are burned by the cartload at a time ; but the feast of the dead is a more quiet and solemn affair. The rich merchants, clad in the costliest silk and broadcloth, go on the first day, riding in the finest carriages procurable, and followed by express-wagons, loaded with pigs roasted whole, rice, fancy dishes, liquors, and other eatables and drinkables without number. A messenger or herald rides on the outside of each carriage, and as he goes along throws off, right and left, handfulls of squares of thin, yellow paper, in the centre of which is a small, impressed character, or a bit of gold or silver foil, for what pur- pose I could never ascertain. Next day, the artizans and manufacturers go in plainer carriages, clubbing together to make a load; on the next, the poor la- borers and public women, riding in overcrowded ex- press-wagons, carrying their meat-offerings with them in the same vehicle ; and on the last day, the miser- ably poor, the rag-pickers and garbage collectors, trudge humbly along on foot over the dusty road to the city of the dead, each carrying in his hand the tri- fling offering, which his extreme poverty permits him after months of economy to provide for the occasion. THE SECRET OF CHARITY. 2/?( - At the cemetery the graves are almost buried beneath the offerings of yellow papers, which are blown about by the winds until they form in drifts, like the snow in the streets of the cities of the Atlantic coast. Red candles', of vegetable wax, are lighted and stuck in the ground by thousands ; and a cloth being spread upon the ground at the foot of each grave by its par- ticular visitor, the feast is arranged upon it, the cups filled with sam-shoo, tea, etc., and then the living friend, bowing with solemn politeness, invites the dis- embodied spirit or spirits to come and help themselves. After that, he walks around and chats gaily with his living friends, smokes, drinks a little rice wine, and then, quietly packing up the eatables, which are none the worse for the service they have done, and placing them in the wagon again, spills the drinkables on the ground, and returns to the city (proudly conscious of having done his duty well, like a man and a C — hina- man), to dine upon "the funeral baked meats" himself. The spirits, as their name would indicate, take only the etherial part of the feast, and the living men get the most substantial, and to them at least most valu- able portion of the comestibles. An old and venerable member of the Christian church — a bright and shining light of the faith, who resides at Auburn, New York — once told me, while engaged in distributing tracts in the English language, which they could not read, to the poor native Pro- testants of Mexico, that he had learned, from long experience, that the true secret of Christian charity was to be able to do good unto others without cost- 2 t-q THE CHINESE FEAST OF THE DEAD. ing yourself a cent. He had followed out that idea all his lifetime, and the Lord had so prospered him in things worldly and things spiritual, that he was more satisfied, day by day, that he was on the right track, and had the thino- down to a science. The Chinaman has not been able to quite come up to this standard in his observance of the cere- mony of the feast of the dead, but he comes pretty near it, and in a few thousand years more may suc- ceed in reaching it ; but he will be a terribly mean Chinaman when that time arrives! The feast of the dead, like our Christmas services, winds up with social gatherings, friendly reunions, a "feast of reason and a flow of soul," and a good time generally. The Buddhist temples are then decked out in strangely fantastic style, quite unintelligible to the white American. The ceremonies at the temple at this time appear to be devoid of any marked religious character. This year — 1872 — the feast of the dead came late in August, and I had the honor of assisting. We were going home at midnight (a party of half a dozen, who had been indulging in that peculiar little game at which if you don't bid you lose, and if you do bid you go back and lose two bits more, so much affected in California on the last night of the feast), and had stopped at the corner of Dupont and Washington streets, to listen to the babel of many tongues, the screeching of the Chinese one-stringed fiddles, the dulcet notes of the tom-toms, and the clashing of the gongs in the gambling-houses, where infatuated A STRANGE PROCEEDING. „ - T Celestials were betting themselves poor at the game of " Tan," or in the restaurants where others were dining convivially. It was a glorious moonlight night, such as one rarely sees, save on the Pacific coast, or in the tropics. The whole air was loaded with the fumes of burning "joss sticks," or incense candles, made from powdered sandal wood, fragrant gums, etc., the blue smoke of which rose from every door- way, open win- dow, crack, crevice, or cranny in the houses where the blue-bloused sons of China congregate, resting on the Chinese quarter like a fog on a Jersey salt-marsh, or a cloud of mosquitoes on a Mississippi river-bot- tom. While we were standing there, a party of Chi- nese boys placed a row of these little joss-sticks up- right along the edge of the gutter by the sidewalk, leading- down to the centre of the block northwards, and set them all burnina- at once. As the cloud of fragrant smoke rose up from them, a well-dressed Chinaman appeared and directed a servant where to place a large tray, or salver, on which was neatly ar- ranged a hot lunch, prepared in the most attractive style of the first-class Chinese culinary artist. The lunch being duly arranged on the edge of the side- walk, he kneeled before it, chin-chinned repeatedly until his forehead nearly touched the curbstone, and then, to avoid the curious and irreverent throng of Caucasians, who were fast gathering about him, arose and hustled away the lunch into the house from which he came. A huge mass of curiously curled, and twisted, and convoluted, and cornuted — and I don't know what not else — tissue paper, forming some em- 2 r 2 T£UL CHINESE FEAST OF THE DEAD. blematic figures, which resembled in shape, and color, and design nothing which Caucasian mind ever con- ceived, or could comprehend if described — and I don't know how to describe it — was lying in the street in front of the line of joss-sticks, and, as he arose to go, a boy touched off a pile of fire-crackers concealed within it, and in an instant it disappeared in a blaze of glory. This appeared to be a part of the programme. We followed along the line of joss-sticks, and found that it terminated at the entrance of the narrow pass- age which leads in between two gambling-houses to the centre of the block, where stands the Buddhist temple, erected by the famous Chinese physician, Li- po-Tai, in demonstration of his gratitude to ahe Su- preme Intelligence for his escape from instant death some years since by a gas explosion, which killed his companion, and disfigured him for life. A crowd of visitors, Chinese and Caucasian, were moving in and out, and we passed in with the throng. At the end of the passage we came to a stairway, which zig- zags up on the outside of the tall brick building to the upper story, terminating on a balcony hung with Chinese lanterns of the most brilliant and striking patterns, each as large as a flour-barrel, from which you enter the temple proper. At the last landing, below the top of the stairway, we stopped to look at a gigantic statue representing a "devil-man" sentinel, placed in an alcove, in a half-sitting, half-standing position, menacing the intrusive unbeliever, seeking for the Holy of Holies, with outstretched arm and « SESAME r - - fist doubled up, like a pugilist's in a prize-fight. A hideous mask answered for a face, while the eyes, lighted up from within, glared on the visitor with something of the weird effect produced by "Torches which have burned all night, Through some impure, unhallowed rite," When viewed by the true believer. The devil- man winked inquiringly at us, and we winked back at him, said "Press," and then passed on unmolested. One of the party observed this pantomime, and enthusi- astically exclaimed, " Well, you fellows of the press have got a good thing of it, haven't you ? If I don't mean to practice that, and try it on, when the time comes, on old St. Peter, may the " We requested him to spare our sensitive feelings, and he did so, and did not finish the sentence. The temple was ablaze with light, crowded by a wondering throng, filled with the choking blue smoke of the incense, and as hot and close as the furjiace- room of an ocean steamer in the tropics. The images representing Buddha, or Foh, the guardian deities of the southern, middle and northern districts of China, the Queen Mother of Heaven and her attendants, the black gentleman of whom it is always safe to speak respectfully, if not admiringly, and other objects of mingled admiration and contempt to the average Chi- nese mind, were all on their shrines in the different apartments or halls of the temple, and the usual lamps were burning before them. But the visitors appeared to pay no attention to them, and, for the time being, at least, regard them with no respect. 2 -. THE CHINESE FEAST OF THE DEAD. The extraordinary decorations for the occasion formed the attraction for the evening-. Fronting the great folding door — on the wings of which are paint- ed a hideous monster, armed sentinels, etc., depend- ing from the ceiling by crimson silken cords — hung a whatnot-like arrangement, representing in miniature the stage of a Chinese theatre, upon which a "celes- tial star dramatic company," in all the elaborate silk and gold embroidery, decked garments, etc., which pertain to their wardrobe, was grouped with really ar- tistic skill and effect. The scene represented a tab- leau in one of their historic dramas, and each figure, which was from two and one half to three feet in height, was a perfect counterpart in miniature of one of the well-known Chinese actors of the Jackson- street theatre, which is visited by every stranger from the east of the Rocky Mountains, who comes to see the wonders and curiosities of California. The features, which were of some hard material like plas- ter of Paris, were moulded with such cunning ski J, that the expression was as perfect as life itself; and each actor could be recognized in an instant by any person who had seen him once upon the real stage. Five similar groups, each representing a scene in a play illustrating the history and traditions of the Cen- tral Flowery Empire, hung in different parts of the same principal apartment. In one corner we saw two curious phantom horsemen, mounted on nondescript, half human, half animal, phantom steeds. The frame- work of these figures was of the lightest split-rattan, and the superstructure light tissue paper of various THE TWIN GIANTS. „ - - brilliant colors. "What do they represent?" we asked of a polite Chinaman, who came bowing out of a side room to meet us, and show us around free of charge. He told us forty graceful ' fictions in ten breaths, and was "joshing" us all the time. I did not blame him, for two reasons: first, he did not know himself; and, secondly, his people are an imaginative race, and it is the custom of the country — their coun- try, not ours, I mean, of course. In China — blessed country! — there are no professional politicians, and the lying is more evenly distributed among the peo- ple than with us. But the greatest attractions that night were two mon- ster statues, twin giant ghost- warriors, who stood on either side of the hall in front of the great altar. These figures were each fully eighteen feet in height, and were perfectly proportioned. They were costumed in half-armor, worn over long robes of the most bril- liant hues, elaborately ornamented and embroidered, and each wore the cap of a high mandarin, surmounted by the crimson ball, indicative of the first rank, and a tall, variegated plume. The face of one had some- thing of serene dignity and power in beatific repose upon it, and he held his right hand aloft, with the thumb, fore and fourth fingers slightly bent, and the middle and third fingers nearly straight — as do always the images of Buddha, or Foh, the representations of the incarnation of the Supreme Power and Intelli- gence, which are seen upon every shrine of the faith — while the right foot rested upon and crushed down to the earth a hideous, open-mouthed, writhing dragon. 2 -£ THE CHINESE FEAST OF THE DEAD. The second was the counterpart of the first in all, save that his face was covered by a hideous, frowning mask, his raised right hand was open, with the palm turned full toward the spectator, and with his foot he trampled a snarling and struggling yellow and black spotted tiger. We asked the meaning of these giant figures of our obsequious Chinese attendant, and, as before, he told us a cock-and-bull story as gigantic in proportion as the figures themselves. The excuses urged in his behalf in the first instance are equally good in this. We ascertained that the statues, like the phantom horsemen, despite their imposing appearance, were nothing but rattan, tissue and gilt paper, and bits of looking-glass — trifles light as air, almost, which even a breath might knock over and demolish. If they w r ere intended to represent ghosts of the mighty dead of the days when there were giants in the land, they came near the mark ; for anything more thin and un- substantial to all the senses, save that of sight, could never have been conceived. Only the cunning hand of a celestial artist could have put them together, preserved their anatomical proportions, and made them stand there, erect, the very impersonation of hollow imposture. We noticed that the celestial crowd laughed and talked, and wandered about with- out the slightest regard for the religious character of the place, and we came away amused and interested, but not a whit the wiser for any insight into the hid- den meaning of all this pageant — if any meaning there was — than when we came. CONCA TEN A TION BILL. - _ Coming - back to Dupont street, I met a man whom 1 had last seen while on a hostile raid into the Hual- apai Indian country, in Arizona, and our conversation, after the first greetings were over, turned upon one of the strange, peculiar characters with which the Pacific coast abounds — one we had both known — old ' ' Concatenation B ill. When and where he picked up the sobriquet, or it picked up him, we never knew ; but, once attached to him, it became a part of his personality, and stuck to him thenceforth, through good report and through evil report, for the term of his natural life, and will be inscribed upon his tombstone, should fortune so far change her mood as to permit him to have one, which is a matter for doubt. It was doubtful if he knew* himself. It was probably all he had to show for his months of labor in some early mining-camp, when he left it ; and, as the camp itself is doubtless long since played out, and numbered with the things which have been, but are not, what matters it where it was located, or who toiled in it? In any event, it usurped the place of the name given him in baptism —if he ever was baptised — and, like most California nicknames, was appropriate. " You are out of luck," said a rough-looking miner, to whom he had detailed his misfortunes, wanderings and misadventures for an hour. "Out of luck! Well, I wish to Heaven I was; you may gamble on that; but I ain't. Why, God bless you, stranger, I'm just in a perfect streak of luck from morning to night, and from one year's end 2 r 3 THE CHINESE FEAST OF THE DEAD. to another ; and the cussedest luck ! Why, I have had more luck than would sink a ship, and have got it yet !" I will be just to the memory of my departed friend ; he had. He came across the plains in '49. He started with a good outfit supplied him by friends in Illinois, who fitted him out "on shares" as a speculation. He left them confident of large dividends, and those who are yet above ground are still waiting for them. His best horse was stolen from him on the first night out from "St. Joe," and he traded off the other and the double harnesses for a yoke of oxen, with a cow thrown in. One of his oxen was gobbled up by Indians on the Platte, and having sold, given away, or thrown away half his provisions to lighten his load, he started on with the cow yoked in with the remaining ox. The cow pegged out on the headwaters of the Humboldt, and he abandoned his wagon and rode the remaining ox down to "the Sink," where it also gave up the struggle, and left him alone in his misery. From thence he made the remainder of the journey on foot, camping by night with any family or party who would give him a supper and the use of a spare blanket All things must have an end some time, and he finished his journey at last, arriving at Placerville late in the autumn, worn out, ragged, and seedy to the last degree — the very impersonation of persistent bad luck — but still hopeful of the future, and obtained a situation as waiter at a hotel, with good wages. At A MATRIMONIAL TAKE-IN. „ - rt 2 :>9 the end of the second month, he actually had money ahead, and being of a commercial turn of mind, tried his hand at "busting" a faro bank. He did not quite succeed in the operation — he never quite made a suc- cess of anything he undertook — but he won eleven hundred and eighty dollars nevertheless. There was a gushing young lady, who tended bar in a dance-house in Placerville, who had made his ac- quaintance before he made this "ten-strike," and now she suddenly discovered that he was a really good- hearted fellow, and not bad-looking. She suggested that it would be a good thing for them to go into partnership, matrimonial and financial, and start a hotel at Coon Hollow, a new and promising camp not far from Placerville — which was then more familiarly known as "Hangtown." The financial partnership was to be immediate and absolute; the matrimonial one, conditional and prospective. The arrangement, though it might have pleased him better if slightly mod- ified, on the whole met with his approval ; they rented the hotel, and she started down to Sacramento to purchase the necessary outfit for the bar before start- ing in at " keeping tavern." She took his money with her, and — did not return. Bill borrowed fifty dollars of a sympathizing friend, followed her down to Sacra- mento, and there learned that she had gone "to the Bay" in company with a big red-headed fellow, known as "Sandy Bob," who came out with her from New York, and who, if not her husband, should have been. "No use following any further after kerf" Bill knocked around Sacramento until his borrowed 2 5 TILE CHINESE FEAST OF THE DEAD. fifty dollars were all expended, then got a situation as "assistant bull-whacker" on an up train, and made his way up into the mountains to Fiddletown, where he came across a friend, who took him into partnership in a placer gold-claim, which at the moment did not prom- ise largely. They "struck it rich," for a wonder, in two weeks sold out for a " big stake," and started for San Francisco. On the way down the river, on the steamer, Bill was induced to take a hand in a little friendly game of draw-poker, just to pass away the time, and succeeded not only in passing away the time, but also with it all his own money, and all his confiding partner's share as well. In San Francisco he met with various adventures, finding temporary employment in a dozen different kinds of business, only to be thrown out of each in turn through some unfortunate occurrence, and find himself "dead broke" every time. When the Frazer River excitement broke out, he went up there, and came back "busted." Then he joined in the mid-winter rush over the Sierra Ne- vada to the newly-found Washoe silver mines, and found his way back again in the spring as poverty- stricken as ever. Then he drifted southward, fished for sharks, and gathered abalones at San Pedro, and for a time made himself generally useless on a stock- ranch. The Arizona gold excitement of 1862-63 took him across the desert to the Colorado River. In the first camp he struck on the eastern side of the Colorado River, he set to work with a will to secure a valuable quartz claim — everybody was hunting up and locating quartz claims at that time. He would CLAIMING AN "EXTENSION." 26l go out in the morning with claim-notices written out in advance, and tramp over the red volcanic mount- ains all day long in the burning sun, vainly seeking for an unclaimed lead. All the quartz leads in the country appeared to have from one to a dozen claim- notices stuck up on them. Just as hope was aban- doning him, a friend suggested to try "extensions." If he could not find new claims, he could at feast locate extensions on those taken up by others, and if the original claims prospected well, his extensions would eventually become valuable. The idea struck him favorably. Next morning he was off bright and early, with his pocket full of ready- written extension claim- notices. Luck was still against him ; he found extensions located in every claim in the mountains. Late in the evening he was making his way back to camp, foot- sore, weary and dejected, when he stumbled upon a claim-stake on a mesa at the head of a canon, and getting down on his knees to examine it, was filled with delight at the discovery that there was no ex- tension-notice fastened to the other side of it. He could not make out the words of the notice, but it was a claim, and that was quite enough for him. Pull- ing out an extension-notice, reading : " We, the undersigned, claim 200 feet each on the first northerly extension of this claim, and intend to work the same according to the laws of the United States and of this district. (Signed) "John Smith, "John Jones el al." he fastened it on the northern side of the stake, and started on toward camp with a lighter heart. 2 5 2 THE CHINESE FEAST OF THE DEAD. Descending into the caiion, he came upon another claim-stake, and repeated the performance of putting up an extension-notice. Fortune had favored him at last! Two extensions located within an hour — he was a millionaire already, in prospect, at least, when he returned to camp. That night he hardly slept at all. His heart beat high with hope — visions of un- told wealth floated unceasingly before his half-closed eyes. Next morning he was up betimes, and invited his companions in the camp to go up with him before breakfast and take a look at his locations. They went up the caiion and found that the last extension located was the result of an error. All sorts of locations be- sides mining-claims were being made — town sites, mill sites, etc., etc.; the last claim on which he had taken up an extension was for a slaughter- yard. The discovery lowered his spirits a peg, but he was still hopeful, and went on with the party up to the mesa to examine the first location. When they arrived at the stake, and Bill bent down to read the notice, his face turned pale and he started back affrighted, as did Robinson Crusoe when he saw the footprint of the cannibal on the island of Juan Fernandez. As I am a man and a Christian, he had located and agreed to work an exte7ision on a claim for a graveyard The joke got back to camp ahead of him, and Bill shot out of the place an hour later, like a secCfUl T»I j. ■ zeppa, followed by a • loud shout of savage laughter, Which on the wind came roaring after," KILLING WHISKY. 2 £„ from the lungs of every prospector within a mile of it. He paused in his flight at a new camp near La Paz, and there had better luck for the moment. He loca- ted on a small vein, or deposit, of "silver-copper glance," and sold it to a San Francisco capitalist for three hundred dollars. With this money he started a modest and unpretending "dead-fall," proposing to supply the honest miners with liquor and cards at a handsome advance on original cost. The first day's business was a success, and he besfan to entertain hiQfh hope of a change for the better. Vain hope! On the second day a stranger came into his shanty for a drink, and fell down dead with heart disease before reaching the counter. Bad news travels fast. In half an hour the rumor had gone abroad through the whole camp that the respected and lamented deceased (who had emigrated from Northern California or Southern Oregon on account of a lawsuit involving the question of title to a horse) had died just after, instead of just before, imbibing a glass of Concatena- tion Bill's best whisky. It was the warm season, and the gold and copper- seekers of that district were an excitable set at any time, with no wholesome restraint upon their actions in the shape of courts and legal enactments. In an hour fifty m£n had assembled, and were engaged in sampling his liquor, and testing it as a Committee of the Whole, with a view of deciding whether it would kill or not. It did not directly kill those who drank it then and there, without paying a cent for it, but it led to a fight, in which two honest miners were laid 0< 3 i THE CHINESE FEAST OF THE DEAD. out with bullet- holes through them ; and the indig- nant citizens, with the crude ideas of justice prevail- ing among them, held him responsible for this result, and immediately organized a Vigilance Committee, with the intention of going for Bill as soon as day- light came, to enable them to hunt up his hiding-place m. the chaparral. Luckily for him, he learned of their good intentions in season, and before morning broke over the Weaver Mountains, he broke in that direc- tion himself. They heard of him the next day at the Granite Wash, forty miles east of the river, and their ardor having cooled down a little meantime, concluded to drop the matter and pursue him no farther. He next turned up at Wickenburg, on the Hassi- yampi, in Central Arizona. Wickenburg was a lively place at that time. Jack Snelling was acknowledged to be a capital fellow when perfectly sober, but in- clined to be playful at times, and indulge in little prac- tical jokes, which generally resulted in somebody being sent out of town feet foremost, and perforated like a colander. It so happened that Jack was fes- tively inclined on the day on which Bill arrived, and had been going around town compelling all the traders to close their shops and go home, on pain of instant death. Jack was much respected in that community, and his will was law. As Concatenation Bill rode down the single long, tortuous street which com- prised the city at that time, Jack sighted him, and mistaking him for a man who had once insulted him by refusing to drink with him, went for him the mo- ment he alighted, and thrashed him within an inch of MIS TAKEN IDE Nil TY. - * - his life before he discovered his mistake. Bill ac- cepted his apology and a drink, but thought that busi- ness was opening a little too briskly in Wickenburg to be permanent, washed the blood from his lace, bound a piece of raw beef on one of his eyes, and struck out for a new location at sunrise next morning. In the course of his wanderings, he was seen at Hooper & Co's store on the Gila, and for a time was at home around Tucson. Two or three years after his adventure at La Paz, Concatenation Bill came down Bill Williams' fork from Prescott, near Date Creek, and for some weeks was one of the fixtures of the Great Central Mining Com- pany's camp, at the copper mines near Aubray City, twelve miles above the mouth of the fork. Nobody asked him to stop, and nobody seemed to care to in- vite him to leave ; so he partook liberally of the hos- pitalities of the camp, never missing a meal nor pay- ing a red, until it was whispered round among the miners that he was a heavy stockholder in the com- pany, and it would be well to be on the good side of him. It was in midsummer, and the heat was something terrible. All day long the naked red mountains ab- sorbed the heat of the burning sun, and all night long they gave it back to the inhabitants, as the baker's brick oven absorbs the heat of the burning wood fire, and gives it back to the loaves within it, when the coals and embers have been raked out. Sleep, until far into the morning hours, was an impossibility, in- doors or out, and the miners were wont to spread 2 56 THE CHINESE FEAST OF THE DEAD. their blankets on the floor of the long veranda, at the hacienda, and, lying down upon them, while away the earlier part of the night, fighting mosquitoes and swapping lies, which were about equally abundant at that time in camp. Some years previous to this time, the Mojaves of the Colorado Valley, becoming tired of inglorious peace, and panting for war and its triumphs and renown, concluded to go on an expedition up the Gila, and clean out the Pimos and Maricopas, their old friends and allies against the Apaches. The campaign opened auspiciously. The first skirmish resulted in the rapid retreat of the Pimos, with the loss of four bucks and one squaw, toward their main village, farther up the valley. But the second fight resulted differently, and the Mojaves retreated in confusion toward the Color- ado, with the loss of half their force, and with their thirst for military glory whipped clean out of them. Now it happened, almost as a matter of course since trouble was going on, that Concatenation Bill was in the vicinity when the fight took place — or, at least, had heard the particulars from some one who had been — and, as was his custom, had worked up the incidents and details into a wonderful romance, like unto that of the adventures of the Cid, of which you may be sure he was the central figure and hero, and he never tired of relating it, with endless variations, to any crowd who could be got to listen to the story. No one about the camp knew aught to the contrary ; so, for want of contradiction, the story was accepted for its face, and became one of the acknowledged and BILL'S INDIAN FIGHT. £- respected legends of the fork. But for an unfortunate incident which I shall proceed to relate, it is probable that it would have passed into history and been handed down to posterity, with all the claim to reverence and credence which attaches to the story of William Tell, the tyrant Gessler, and the apple ; or the infant G. W., his hatchet, and the old man's cherry-tree. One day, just as the sun was sinking down in the orange- hued western sky, and the sweating cook was rino-inof the welcome bell to call the toilers at the mine to supper, a game-looking young frontiersman, clad in buckskin garments, and a broad-brimmed vicuna hat, rode down the steep declivity of the red mount- ain, and made his way into camp. He was tendered the hospitalities of the place, as were all strangers then, and turned in with the other "boys" on the veranda at night. Stories came on in due course, and, at a hint dexterously thrown out by one of the party, Concatenation Bill started in with the true and affecting history of the " Great Indian Fight on the Gila." And thus he began : " Well, you see, boys, the old chiefs of the Pimos and Maricopas were all out of practice, and when they found things had gone agin 'em on the first fight, they looked about for a leader who knowed jest how to put up the pins for a victory. Pretty soon they pitched on me, and I drawed up the plan for the next day's operations right away. I stationed the braves at the right points, then laid for the Mojaves, and sfot 'em. o 53 THE CHINESE FEAST OF THE DEAD. "They came up the river, yelling like so many devils, and drove our pickets in like chaff before 'em ; but when I got 'em jest in the right spot, I give the word, and we riz on 'em. I never did feel much compunc- tion at taking life before, leastwise the life of a damned redskin; but the fact is, that slaughter was dreadful, and it came to be a perfect butchery before we got through. I swear to man that the Gila riz over a foot ; though mind, boys, I don't say it was all owin' to the blood which ran into it. There was about two thou- sand dead Mojaves a floatin' down the stream, an' it's likely they lodged and choked it up at some pint where it was narrer like, an' so set the water back, more or less. Right in the thickest of the fight, when it seemed for a few minutes as if the Mojaves — who was game to the last; I'll say that injustice to 'em — was goin' to get the best of us, after all, I sailed in myself, and went for their big chief, and downed him with a blow from the butt of my revolver ; an' I was jest cockin' my weapon to give him a settler, when old Ickthermiree, his second in command, an' about half a dozen leftenants, lighted on me all at onst, an' we clinched and went down all in a heap. I got one arm loose, an' pulling out my old Arkansas toothpick, commenced slashin' 'em right and left, when " Concatenation Bill never told us what happened after that. When he commenced the story, the stranger, who was lying some feet away, listened attentively for a few moments, then rose slowly to a sitting posture, and then to his feet. As the story progressed, he <--A ROLAND FOR AN OLIVER:'' „A n -°9 moved quietly toward the spot where Bill was lying, and at length startled that worthy by suddenly ap- pearing over him, towering up like a giant in the moonlight, every feature convulsed with excitement. "You did that, stranger?" he yelled from sten- torian lungs, every syllable being evidently enunciated under pressure of rage suppressed, until it was ready to burst him. " Yes, me/" was Bill's slightly less confident reply. The stranger bounded about four feet into the air, cracked his heels together with such force that the re- port sounded like that of a musket, swung his revolver round to the front, so as to have it ready for instant use, and as he came down yelled out: "Well, by the great horn spoon, stranger, that is singular! There wasn't but one damned white man thar, or I hope to be dropped into hell this minute ; an' I'm the man ! " The camp was as silent as death in an instant. Every man expected to hear the report of a revolver, or the sounds of a deadly hand-to-hand struggle, and waited in breathless anxiety for the crowning catas- trophe. " Yott the man?" "Yes, by the bloody jumping tom-cats of Jerusalem, me ! Take a good look at me, stranger. I kin jest eat any ten men that dar dispute it." The silence grew deeper. Concatenation Bill lay as motionless as a dead man for a moment, looking up at his opponent in the moonlight, silently weigh- ing him and taking his measure ; then apparently o~~. THE CHINESE FEAST OF THE DEAD. Z/vJ fully satisfied that he was a man of his word, and able to carry out his promises, slowly turned over on his side, drew the corner of his blanket up over his head, and in a voice as free from excitement as that of a child playing on its mother's bosom, drawled out : " Well, I reckon that lets me out !" A peal of laughter, wild and long, from all but two of the party, rang out upon the still air of the desert, and was answered on the instant by a loud yap-yap- yap- ya-hoo-oooo, from the startled wolves which were prowling around the camp by dozens. The stranger stood there in silence and in doubt for a moment, then walked sulkily back to his blankets and lay down. Again, and yet again, the loud laughter pealed forth upon the night, but not a word or sound of any kind came from the blankets where Bill was lying, to denote his consciousness of aught which was going on around him. He had played that hand for all it was worth, and was fairly raised out at last. When the summits of the distant Harcuvar Mount- ains were glistening with the rays of the rising sun, the miners of the fork were up and stirring, as was their wont. The breakfast-bell sounded, and a rush was made for the diningf-room. A familiar face was missing, and for the first time in weeks there was a vacant place at the table. Concatenation Bill was gone. The camp which had known him so long was to know him no more forever. In the grey dawn he had stealthily risen, folded his blankets, packed up his traps, saddled his hipshot mule, and as silently as a ghost departed, not deigning even to say good bye "MC JACET." 271 to anybody about the premises. What became of him we never satisfactorily ascertained. The road to La Paz he had already traveled too often ; that to- ward Salt Lake was Hualapais ; and that to Prescott and Tucson was swarming with Apaches. Had he taken "the road which Ward's ducks went? " We shuddered at the thought, but he may have done so in sheer desperation. A few days later, the writer and a party of frontiers- men friends paused beside a lowly grave on the road to Skull Valley, over which some wandering Mexicans had erected a cross of stones, in testimony of the sup- posed fact that there rested the remains of a Christi- ano. There was an empty bottle by the side of the grave, and on the label the letters " C. B." Did they stand for "Cognac Brandy" or " Concatenation Bill ?" The party were about equally divided on the ques- tion of the probabilities ; but it is a rule on the frontier never to miss an opportunity out of respect to a mere uncertainty; so from our pocket- flasks we reverently drank to the memory of the illustrious departed, the hero of the "the Great Indian Fight on the Gila ;" then rode away into new scenes and dangers new, and thenceforth to all that reckless party, save the writer, poor Concatenation Bill was as dead, and almost as nearly forgotten, as •'The little birds that sang A hundred years ago." CHAPTER XII. A CRUISE ON THE BARBARY COAST. Night Scenes in San Francisco. — Low Life. — Scene in a Kecently Suppressed Gambling House. — Visit to the Chinese Quarter. — How John Chinaman Loses His Money. — The Thieves and Rounders of San Francisco. — How they Live and where they Lodge. — The Dance-Cellars. — Opium Dens and Thieves' Ordinaries of the Barbary Coast. — How the San Francisco Police treat Old Offenders, etc., etc. Every city on earth has its special sink of vice, crime and degradation, its running ulcer or moral cancer, which it would fain hide from the gaze of mankind. London has its St. Giles, New York its Five Points, and each of the other Atlantic and West- ern cities its peculiar plague spot and curse ; it is even asserted that there are certain localities in Chicago where vice prevails to a greater extent, and life, virtue and property are less secure than in others. San Fran- ciscans will not yield the palm of superiority to any- thing to be found elsewhere in the world. Speak of the deeper depth, the lower hell, the maelstrom of vice and iniquity — from whence those who once fairly enter escape no more forever — and they will point triumphantly to the Barbary Coast, strewn from end to end with the wrecks of humanity, and challenge you to match it anywhere outside of the lake of fire and brimstone. (272) THE PEOPLE WE MEET. 2 j~ Stroll by daylight through the region bounded by Montgomery, Stockton, Washington and Broadway streets, and you will have but a faint idea, a very in- adequate conception, of the real character of the locality. A few red-faced, frowzy females will glance inquiringly at you from their seats just inside the doorways of the minor "dead- falls;" little dens, with the bar stocked with well-drugged liquors — which to taste is to look death in the face and defy him — on one side of the front room, a sofa on the other, and at the reaf an arched opening hung with tawdry red and white curtains, communicating with an inner room, into the hidden mysteries of which you and I do not care to penetrate. Spanish- American women, clad in solemn black, and wrapped to the eyes in their dark rebozos, fallen and hopelessly degraded, but still pre- serving something of the grace of manner and speech which distinguish the females of their race above all others, flit quietly past, fixing their flashing black eyes inquiringly upon your face, but making no salu- tation. Chinese porters or "coolies," swinging heavy burdens on the ends of pliant bamboo poles balanced on their shoulders, and changed rapidly from side to side as they trot quickly along, meet you at every turn. A couple of small, wiry, supple little fellows, with black skins, straight black hair, with little black eyes which twinkle like those of a snake, carrying huge baskets, filled with soiled clothing, on their heads, may attract your attention next ; they are Lascar or Hindoo washermen from the Lagzma, in the western part of the city, where they work. You will 2 j a MONGOLIAN BELLES. see coming forth from the various narrow alleys which intersect the main streets, and are known by the expressive designations of "Murderer's Alley," "China Alley," "Stout's Alley," etc., any number of Chinese females, clad in their loose drawers or pants of blue or black cotton goods, straight-cut sacques of broadcloth, satin, or other costly or cheap material, according to their condition and social rank ; shoes of blue satin, richly embroidered with bullion, and with thick soles of white felt and white wood, anklets or bangles, and bracelets of silver, gold, or jade-stone, and lustrous blue-black hair, braided in two strands, hanging down the back from beneath coarse-striped gingham handkerchiefs, thrown over the head, and tied beneath the chin as a badge denoting slavery, and a life of hopeless infamy ; or, if the owner hap- pens to be the wife of a laborer, tradesman or gam- bling-house proprietor, wonderfully gotten up with a species of transparent mucilage, and fashioned into a rudder-like structure sticking out fully a foot behind, supporting a number of skewer-like pins of gold or silver, each six or eight inches in length, and putting to shame by its size and cleanly appearance, the water- falls of our Caucasian belles — shuffle along in groups of three or four, talking and laughing together like so many little children, or exchanging compliments, which would never bear translation into English, with the male blackguards, loafers and plug-uglies of their race. These women are intellectually only children, and are more to be pitied and less condemned than the fallen of their sex of any other race. Every sec- « THE COAST" BY DA YL1GHT. 2 75 ond building is occupied as a saloon, in which no- body seems to be stirring, and has a basement, over the door of which is painted the name of the estab- lishment, as "The Roaring Gimlet," "The Bull's Run," "The Cock of the Walk," "Star of the Union," "Every Man is Welcome," etc., etc., but now closed and apparently unoccupied. There are strains of ear- splitting music coming occasionally from the Chinese gambling-houses, and from time to time, as you walk along, you see rows of Chinamen seated at low benches in basements, industriously engaged in mak- ing up "every choice brand of Havana and Domestic cigars," as the signs over the doorways inform you. But for the most part, the dirty shops, saloons and basements have a thriftless, tumble-down, hopeless and half-deserted appearance, and you finally make up your mind that you have stumbled into a part of the town where nothing in particular is ever going on, and which is in a great measure deserted and go- ing into gradual but certain decline and decay. Such is the "Barbary Coast" by daylight; but by gaslight or moonlight it is quite another thing, and you would find it difficult to realize that this was the sleepy, half- deserted locality you saw in the morning. It is Saturday evening, in the middle of the rainy season, when no work is doing upon the ranches, and work in the placer mines is necessarily suspended, and the town fairly swarms with "honest miners" and unemployed farm-hands, who have come down from the mountains and "the cow counties" to spend their money, and waste their time and health in 276 A CRUISE ON THE BARBARY COAST. "doing" or "seeing life" in San Francisco. The Barbary Coast is now alive with "jay- hawkers," "short-card sharps," "rounders," pickpockets, pros- titutes and their assistants and victims; we cannot find a better night on which to pay a visit to the locality. Half a dozen of us, more or less, make up the party, and we start out. The evening is pleas- ant, and Montgomery and Kearny streets are filled with the beauty, fashion, and wealth of San Francisco. A military company, in brilliant uniform, with a full and very superior band, returning from a target ex- cursion, pass up the street, attracting the attention of the throng lor a moment ; and then come, in turn, a party of horsemen and horsewomen, gaily mounted, coming in from the Cliff House at Point Lobos, or just starting out for a night-ride, who dash down the street at a gallop, are glanced at, criticised, and for- gotten. The drift of the crowd is toward the various places of amusement, and we go on with the tide. Turning up Washington street, we stop in front of what was, a few years since, the principal theatre, and looking into a saloon adjoining the main entrance, a scene which we witnessed there, less than three years* ago, is recalled vividly to our recollection. There is a snug little saloon, and everything is as neat and orderly and business-like in appearance as possible. At the rear of the room is a green door, on which hangs a card inscribed in large letters, "Club Room — Now Open." Near the door sits a well dressed, gentlemanly man, who scrutinizes the face of each man as he passes through the saloon, and "ALL YE WHO ENTER HERE," ETC. 27? seems to be connected in some mysterious manner with what is going on in the interior room. Num- bers of men, mostly young, and dressed like mechan- ics or small shop-keepers, clerks, etc., enter the saloon as we stand drinking at the bar, and pass quietly in- side. At length a man approaches the inner door, who is recognized by the man sitting in the chair as an objectionable or suspicious character, and the latter, with a quiet motion of the hand toward the outer door, says, "I don't think, sir, the man you are looking for is inside!" or, "This ain't the place for you, stranger; better walk the other way;" and we hear a noise inside as if a chain had been let down and something had been bolted, which is quite likely the case. The bluffed individual departs without a word, satisfied that there is nothing to be made by parleying, and we advance toward the door-keeper — for such he really is — in turn. He looks sharply at us, recognizes us by a quiet nod, and glances inquir- ingly toward the rest of the party. "Only strangers from New York going the rounds ; no shenanegan or cops in disguise; honor bright!" we reply. "All right ; go ahead!" and we enter the door, turn to the right, go down a flight of steps, through a narrow pas- sage, and, following the gas-lights, reach and enter a third door ; passing which we find ourselves in a wide, low hall, furnished with long tables covered with glazed cloth, lighted brilliantly with gas, and crowded with men who are gathering in groups around the different tables. The air is close and hot, and the smell none of the most agreeable. Perhaps two 278 A CRUISE ON THE BARBARY COAST. hundred men are in the room, but there is no hum of conversation, and even the smokers hardly place their cigars to their lips often enough to keep them lighted. At the tables are seated dealers, dressed in long black robes, which completely hide every article of every-day clothing which they have on, with wire masks which conceal their features, though partially transparent, and slouched hats, which hide every trace of hair, making subsequent identi- fication absolutely impossible. This is done to pre- vent policemen — who will, in spite of every possible precaution, occasionally get in, disguised in such man- ner as to defy detection — from being able to identify the dealers and prosecute them. The assistants of the dealers are dressed in the same manner, and the players never see the faces, recognize the clothing, or hear the natural voices of the men with whom they are, by a stretch of the imagination, supposed to be playing. The silence is only broken by the chink of coin, and the monotonous voice of the dealer: "All set; all made; roll! Black wins! All set; all made; roll! Red wins!" At one table Monte is dealt, at another Faro, at another Rouge-et-noir, at another Diana, at another " Chuck-a-luck," at another "Poker dice," and so on. You can be accommoda- ted with almost any game you want, and it makes little difference in which you invest. "You pays your money, and you takes your choice!" You will notice that the players all appear to be of the classes before alluded to ; there are none of the flashily- dressed clerks from the fancy dry-goods stores, no THE GAMBLING HELL. 279 cashiers from large manufacturing, commercial, or banking houses, no stock-brokers and others, such as you may see in the more high-toned and fashion- able hells of Montgomery, California, or Sacramento streets. The players draw their money from their pockets with the air of men who earned it by the sweat of their brows, and are loth to part with it, but cannot withstand the temptation to indulge in the all- absorbing passion which consumes them. Some of these men are taking their first lessons at the gaming table ; others have been depositing four fifths of their earnings here regularly every week for years, and will do so for years to come. The walls are hung around in places with cards, detailing the rules of the game, and everything looks and speaks "business." There are no luxurious chairs and sofas, no costly pictures, no soft carpets, and no sideboard loaded with substantiate and delicacies, champagne, oysters, rich wines, and fiery liquors in glittering cut-glass and silver decanters and stands, with obsequious negro or Chinese servants, to press you to partake gratuitously of the good things spread before you, as in the high- toned hells. The business of the place is naked gambling, and there is no effort to hide it or soften it with the "social amenities." The players barely glanced at us as we entered, and the games go on. A man with the appearance of a mechanic, reaches over the monte table and chucks a pile of silver half- dollars down on a particular card. The dealer draws the cards with a steady hand, the player wins, and the assistant, without a word, shoves toward him the 2 g Q A CRUISE ON THE BARBARY COAST. amount of his winnings, in gold or silver. Again the player wins, and again, but the dealer never alters his monotonous drawl for a moment, and ap- pears utterly indifferent to the result. The player, urged on by nods and expressive looks from his com- panions, "presses his luck," and the wrong card is drawn out; the assistant reaches out his rake, and hauls his pile toward the bank. The player draws a long breath, with a half-muttered, half-suppressed curse, and takes from his pocket a $20 piece, which he pitches, with an, affectation of carelessness, down upon the nearest card. That, too, goes with the rest into the pile before the cashier of the bank; another and another follows, and at last the player wins again. Then he loses again, and again, and, suddenly starting up, strikes his hand upon his empty pocket, and walks quietly out of the room, without a word. Another victim takes his place, and so it will go on all night. Now and then a man will leave the room "ahead of the game," but you notice that the bank, be the game what it may, wins six times out of ten on the average, and, of course, must in the long run always break the players. We have had enough of this — let us go elsewhere, you say ; and we walk out, our exit attract- ing as little attention as did our entrance. Times have changed sadly of late, as any old Cali- fornian will tell you. The police are around now every night, watching for all such "sinful games," and such scenes as we have just been depicting are no longer to be witnessed in San Francisco, though gambling in a different way is just as common as ever. IN THE FLOWERY LAND. 28l And now, where ? As we have seen how our Cau- casian fellow-citizens, when unrestrained by the offi- cers of the law, fool away their money at the gaming- table, suppose we go up to Dupont street and see how the Mongolians do that sort of thing. We pass up Washington street a couple of blocks, leaving the City Hall, with the gloomy " calaboose" in its base- ment, and the bright little garden-plat of a plaza on our left, and turn to the right into Dupont street. We are close on the Barbary Coast. A moment since we were exclusively among Caucasians, male and female, well dressed, and for the most part talking our lan- guage ; we have gone hardly ten steps, and seem to be in another world. The uncouth jargon of the Ce- lestial Empire resounds on every side. The stores are filled with strange-looking packages of goods from the Orient ; over the doorways are great signs, with letters in gold or vermillion, cut into the brilliant blue or black groundwork, the purport whereof we know not. Little women in black or blue silk sacques and loose trousers, hair wonderfully gotten up, and slip- pers with soles an inch or two in thickness, such as we saw running around by daylight, gaze at us with their almond-shaped black eyes, and nod knowingly at the policeman who has kindly volunteered to ac- company us. Men with long queues hanging down their backs to their very heels, and clad in the cos- tume of a far-off land, crowd the sidewalks, and jostle each other and ourselves around the lottery -shops and the doors of their own oamblinor- houses. The air is redolent of a strange, dreamy odor, which you 2 g 2 A CRUISE ON THE BARBARY COAST. recognize as that of opium and tobacco mingled, and if it be during the time of the Chinese New Year's holidays in February, there is an incessant roar, as of musketry, from the explosion of fire - crackers, which are thrown into the streets in packages and by the box, from every store, gambling-house, restau- rant and dwelling, until the atmosphere is one blue cloud of powder-smoke, and the pavement is covered with the red husks of millions of the popping nui- sances. We notice numerous narrow doorways, with cloth siens, with huee Chinese characters over them. These are the entrances to the gambling-houses. At each sits a vigilant guardian, or doorkeeper, as silent as the Sphynx, with his hands tucked up into his sleeves, and his face as rigid and impassive as that of the great image of Josh in the Buddhist temple a few blocks away. He speaks to no one unless accosted ; and you would never dream what a thinking he keeps up, and how much he takes in with those little half- closed eyes of his. Behind him we see an open door, a long narrow passage, and another door at the end. From the inner retreat comes strange, discordant — to our ears — and not over-attractive music, the air being almost always the same, and closely resembling " The boat lies high, the boat lies low, She lies high and dry on the Ohio ! " Chinamen are entering or coming out at every moment, and why should we not enter too. We ap- proach the door, and the wooden-looking doorkeeper suddenly starts up as wide-awake as you or I, and JOHN "NO SHABBE? „q„ stamps his foot on the floor. We see the door fly shut, as in a pantomime, no human agency being- visible, hear a bar fall " chump" against it from be- hind, hear the rattling of a chain, and it is all up with us there. We miorht kick at the thick door until we were tired, and expostulate with old Confucius there until morning, and it would avail us nothing. He knows what he is there for, and we need not waste our precious time on him. "No shabbe ! " is the only answer we can get to all our inquiries ; and he does not even wink when we shake two four-bit pieces un- der his nose. Better luck next time, perhaps ! We try again a few doors further down the street — same result. It is evident that our friend the policeman is not looked upon with favor by the sentinels at the gateways of the palaces of sudden wealth, and we suggest to him that he withdraw to the opposite side of the street, and still keep an eye on us. Attempt No. 3. We see a peculiarly pleasant-looking China- man, whose face is familiar to us, at one of the door- ways, and approach him: "Good evening, John." "Good eening, gentlemen." "Look here, John; these gentlemen come allee way from New York. No policeeman ; wantee see you house ; makee littee talkee; no more! You shabbee, John? " John, with bland, benevolent expression of countenance, which promises well, and raises our expectations to the high- est pitch, bows gently, and thus delivers himself: "You likee see me ; have littee talkee, eh ? Welly good! Me likee see you, allee same. You come to-morrow, four o'clock ! " Bang goes the door, 2 %a A CRUISE ON THE BARBARY COAST. down cornes the bar, the chain rattles inside, and John, with a face wreathed in smiles, inwardly chuckling over his own astuteness, and the weakness of the out- side barbarians who took him, an old Mongolian, for a greeny, bows almost to the floor, and says with condescending politeness, "Good eening, gentlemen; hope you hab bellee good sleep!" "Why, blame the scoundrel ; he has moved the previous question and us also, and that cuts off all debate!" exclaims one of our party. And he looked so pleasant and accom- modating. "Come again to-morrow, four o'clock," indeed ! There is a Celestial joke for you ! We had better give up the attempt to see the inside of a Chi- nese gambling-house, and go farther down the Coast in search of amusement. We retrace our steps, and go a little way up Washington street to an alley, per- haps fifteen feet in width, running through the block northwards to Jackson street. This is "China Alley," and is occupied solely by Chinese prostitutes. The houses are all small brick affairs, coming flush up to the edge of the alley, and have windows with wickets in them, made by setting one pane of glass in a frame by itself, and hanging it on hinges. There is a front and a rear room to each of these little dens ; and, as we walk along, we can see all the arrangements of the outer rooms. Each of these places appear to be inhabited by from two to half a dozen Chinese girls, some of whom are dressed in hoops and long dresses "Melican" style, but for the most part are clad in the costume of their own country. These poor creatures are all slaves, bought with a price in China, and im- "SOCIAL EVIL" IN CHINATOWN. 2 g„ ported by degraded men of their own race, who, des- pite our laws, contrive to hold them to a life-long servitude, which is a thousand times more hopeless and terrible than the negro slavery of Louisiana or Cuba could ever be. They have been reared to a life of shame from infancy, and have not a single trace of the native modesty of women left. They are, as we have said, mere children in point of intellect, hav- ing no education whatever, and no experience of the world outside of the narrow alleys in which they have always lived, and the emigrant ship in which they were brought over to this country. They have their likes and their dislikes, of course, and become attached to each other in a childish way, frequently being seen walking together on the streets, hand in hand, like little Caucasian sisters going home from school. At very long intervals, some of these poor untutored chil- dren of the East become imbued with Western notions of liberty and right, and making their escape from the clutches of their masters, become joined in lawful marriage to some laborious washerman, or other coun- tryman, and endeavor to settle down to an honest life ; but their chances of escaping kidnapping, and being dragged away to some distant locality, beaten, and reduced again to prostitution and slavery, are very slim indeed. The owner in such cases has al- ways a personal grudge, as well as a pecuniary loss, to urge him on to vindictive measures ; and he will willingly spend ten times the value of his escaping chattel to get her back again, and have his revenge. Besides, the safety of this peculiar institution demands 2 55 A CRUISE ON THE B4RBARY COAST. that the most rigorous measures should be taken in every case, as an example to deter others from follow- ing in the same vicious course. The girls cost $40 each in Canton, but are valued here at about $400^ if passably good-looking, young and healthy, and readily sell at that figure in cash, or approved paper. Each colony of half a dozen girls is under the imme- diate control of an " old mother," herself a retired prostitute, who jealously watches over each, and re- ceives from them the wages of their shame as fast as earned. From each wicket all the way down the al- ley a female head may be seen protruding, and there is a constant fire of jokes and repartee going on be- tween the occupants of the dens on each side of the alley, while every passer comes in for his share of personal notice. A girl, with hair carefully braided and decked with artificial flowers, and cheeks and lips cunningly painted so as to resemble those of her frail Caucasian sisters, notices us looking toward her wicket, and instantly raising her hand, taps at the win- dow, but at the moment catches a glimpse of the po- liceman behind us, and shuts the wicket, and turns away as if she had not seen us at all. The alarm runs down the whole alley in an instant ; there is a rattling of wickets, as if a hurricane was sweeping through the place, and in half a minute all is as silent as the grave, and not a head to be seen. It is a special misde- meanor under our city ordinances for a Chinawoman to tap on a window to attract the attention of any- body on the street ; and the girls well know what is in store for them if they are caught at it by the police. CELESTIAL GAMBLING. 287 We walk through the alley, and we emerge upon Jackson street, stumble upon Ah Ting, a Sacramento street merchant, as shrewd and smart as any down- east Yankee, who is walking with the swell Chinese doctor, Li-Po-Tai, who created such an excitement in San Francisco on his arrival, a few years since ; and, laying all nonsense aside, really does perform some almost miraculous cures. Ah Ting is our friend ; he will get us into a Chinese gambling- house at once. He sends off the policeman, as one too many in the party, and walking across the street, approaches the guardian of one of the temples of finance, confidentially says a few words to him, and in we go. The room is bare and plain ; nothing attractive in its decorations, and the air is blue with the smoke of opium and fla- vored tobacco, from the little cigarritos between the lips of nearly every man in the room. There are, perhaps, fifty Chinamen, of the lower class, crowded around a lone table, behind which sits the banker, a benevolent-looking old fellow in huge spectacles, satin blouse and skull-cap. In one corner of the room is the band, consisting of a woman, richly dressed, and painted, with a hair-rudder standing out from behind her head in startling proportions, playing on a three- stringed guitar, a pock-marked scoundrel of the male sex playing on a two-stringed fiddle, which he holds between his feet, and another who beats the infernal tom-tom with sticks, making discord- of what might otherwise be considered an apology for music. From tkne to time the woman breaks forth in a wild, plain- tive air, in a voice not bad in itself, but pitched at a 2 gg A CRUISE ON THE BARBARY COAST. key as high as the ordinary whistle of a steam-engine. This, Ah Ting tells us, is " the Song of the Jasmine Flower," and we agree with one of the party, who suggests that the aforesaid jasmine flower must have grown on a hill-side, in hard stony soil, exposed to high winds, and had a hard time of it generally. The game which is being dealt is "Than," or "Tan," a kind of "odd and even" affair ; we came to the con- clusion that it would be odd indeed if anybody ever got even by playing at it. It looks all fair enough to an outsider. The dealer has on the table before him a pile of "copper cash," or Chinese bronze coin, each about the diameter of our old-fashioned copper cents, now out of use, but only about one fourth as heavy, and with a square hole in the centre. These coins are of the value of the thousandth part of a Mexican dollar, or a tenth part of one cent ; and in trade in China are used mostly strung on strings of a hundred or a thousand each, for convenience in handling and to save counting. Picking up a handful of these coins, apparently at random, before the eyes of the players, he puts them down on the table and covers them instantly with a common Chinaware bowl inverted. The players then make their bets on the number coming out odd or even, and also on guessing the exact number, the bank always taking the chances against the betters on either side. He then raises the bowl, and with a wire, about fourteen inches in length, crooked at the end, pulls the coins rapidly into little parties of four each, so that anybody can count them almost at a glance. If you bet on odd, and an odd number is HEADS I WIN; TAILS YOU LOSE. „cv found to have been under the bowl, you win ; if you hazard a guess at the actual number and hit it — about as much chance of your doing so as of your being hit by lightning in San Francisco — you win ; or, if you bet that the last little pile drawn out will contain four, three, two, or only one coin, and hit it, you win. It all appears as fair as the day, and yet you cannot but notice that the bank gets rich and the players poor, by regular degrees, all the time. Of course there must be a percentage in favor of the bank somewhere, but you cannot see where it is if you watch the game all night. The lower classes of the Chinese are inveterate game- sters, and must all know that there is such a percent- age, which must ruin the player in the long run; but, like gamblers of other nations, they keep at it as long as they have a cent, and return to it the moment they have made another raise of a dollar or two. We have been admitted as a special favor, and of course must "patronize the house," so we select a Chinaman who speaks a little English, and ask him to act as an agent in the transaction. He is only too willing to accom- modate us. A half-dollar is staked on " odd" and we lose; another on "even," and we lose again; then one on the exact number, and our agent turns to us and explains, with many shrugs, bows and apologies, that he regrets very much that we did not win that time, as, had we done so, we should have doubled our money as many times as there were pieces in the pile. We reoret as much as he does that our luck did not run that way, and tell him so with as many bows, shrugs and .apologies in return. "Well, hopee you 2g0 A CRUISE ON THE BARBARY COAST. catchee him next time ! " Not if we know ourself, oh ingenuous and unsophisticated son of the Occident! That game is played out, so far as we are concerned! We have seen all we can see, and learned all we care to learn here, so we will go on somewhere else in our search for useful knowledge. "Good night, John" — to the banker. "Good night, John ; please you come again uddah time!" he replies, and we part company, with assurances of distinguished consideration all round, and emerge on the street again. Our policeman rejoins us, and we go on down to Pacific street, the roughest and least pacific of the streets on the Barbary Coast. The whole street, for half a dozen blocks, is literally swarming with the scum of creation. Every land under the sun has contributed toward making up the crowd of loafers, thieves, low gamblers, jay-hawkers, dirty, filthy, de- graded, hopeless bummers, and the unsophisticated greenhorns from the mines, or from the Eastern States, who, drawn here by curiosity, or lured on by specious falsehoods told them by pretended friends met on the ocean or river steamers, are looked upon as the legiti- mate prey of all the rest. The number of prema- turely-old young men, mere boys in years, but cen- tenarians in vice and crime ; sallow, wrinkled, pimpled, dirty, stoop -shouldered, disgusting in language and action, who drift up and down the Coast as we stand looking on, astonishes you. They seem to make up the bulk of the passers on the sidewalks. You never see this class of fellows even in this locality by day ; they seem to shun the light of the sun, and only crawl AMONG THE BUMMERS. 2QI forth at night to feast on unclean things, and fatten on rottenness and corruption. Some of them have parents in California, doubtless, but the great majority have left homes in some far-off land, where they are often spoken of with pride by confiding mothers, sis- ters and brothers, who know nothing of their actual status in society here — well for them that they do not. "I have a son in California. I have not heard from him in several years, but he was doing well when he wrote last," says a fond mother in the Atlantic States. Well for you, oh mother, that you cannot stand with us this evening, and see him floating with the tide, a hopeless wreck, along the slime-covered shores of the Barbary Coast! From the "deadfalls," as the low beer and dance cellars are designated, which line both sides of the street, and abound on all the streets in this vicinity, come echoes of drunken laughter, curses, ribaldry, and music from every con- ceivable instrument. Hand- organs, flutes, pianos, bagpipes, banjos, guitars, violins, brass instruments and accordeons mingle their notes and help to swell the discord. "Dixie" is being drummed out of a pi- ano in one cellar; in the next they are singing "John Brown;" and in the next, "Clare's Dragoons," or "Wearing- of the Green." Women dressed in flaunt- ing colors stand at the doors of many of these "dead- falls," and you frequently notice some of them saluting an acquaintance, perhaps of an hour's standing, and urging him to "come back and take just one more drink." Ten to one the already half- drunken fool complies, and finds himself in the calaboose next oq 2 A CRUISE ON THE BARBARY COAST. morning, with a broken head, utterly empty pockets, and a dim recollection of having been taken some- where by some woman whom he cannot identify, and finding himself unexpectedly in the clutches of men he never saw before, who go through him like a po- liceman, taking from him watch, chain, and every other valuable, and pitch him headlong down a stair- way ; after which all is a blank in his memory. All these dens are open and in full blast, yet we see few persons going in or out who appear like customers, and they do not seem to be selling lager or whisky enough to pay for gaslight. Look in the papers to- morrow morning, and you will see items like this : Robbed on the Barbary Coast. — John Smith, a miner from Mud Springs, El Dorado County, came down on the Sacramento boat last evening, and put up at the What Cheer House. On his way to the hotel, he made the acquaintance of a man who claimed to know a friend of his who had worked with him at mining in 1858, on the south fork of the Yuba. The two started out in search of this mythical friend, and visited numerous deadfalls without finding him. They drank at each place they visited, however, and about one o'clock this morning Smith reached the calaboose in a half- stupified condition, and charged a girl known as "Pigeon-toed-Sal," whose headquarters are in a deadfall near the corner of Kearny and Pacific streets, and her male confederate, with robbing him of $800, her companion holding him down while she searched his pockets, and took the money from them. Officers Smith and Brown arrested Sal and her confederate, the " Billy Goat," and locked them up on the charge of grand larceny, but it is doubtful if the charge can be sustained, as the money was not recovered, and the friends of the accused will fee a lawyer with the money, and hire the witnesses for twenty-five per cent, to leave the State, or swear that Smith had agreed to marry the girl, and gave her the money THE JAY-HAWKERS. as a free present, telling her to purchase the necessary outfit for the wedding with it. It is, in all probability, the old story of the fool and his money. A few such items will enlighten you on the ques- tion of how the proprietors of so many of these well- named " deadfalls" manage to make a living. Three men come up the street as we stand on the sidewalk looking and listening, and two of them eye our friend the policeman uneasily as they pass. These two are unmistakably of the Algerine pirate class, and the third evidently a middle-aged greenhorn from the mining country. The officer comprehends the situa- tion at a glance, and stepping forward, says emphati- cally, "Look here, Jack; I told you once before to get out of the jayhawking business, and not let me catch you on the Coast again. And you, Cockeye ; when did you come back from over the Bay? I'll bag you both, as sure as I'm a living man, if I catch either of you on my beat again. You can go this time, but cuss me if it ain't your last chance. Toddle, blast you, and don't let me see you again ! " The young fellows slink away without a word, like rene- gade curs caught in the act of killing sheep, and the officer addresses himself to their intended victim. "Look here, old fellow ; those fellows picked you up at the wharf, or around the What Cheer, and pre- tended they used to know you at home. They are two State Prison thieves, and would have robbed you before daylight, sure. Now, you go back to your hotel, put your money in the safe, and go to bed, or I'll lock you up for a drunk; do you hear?" The 294 A CRUISE ON THE BARBARY COAST. countryman stares a moment with blank astonishment, and then, with many thanks, tells the officer just what the latter had already told him, and leaves the Bar- bary Coast in all haste. "Do you want to see what they are doing in these places ? " says the officer. " Come in herewith me." We enter what appears to be an ordinary "corner grocery," with piles of potatoes, onions, soap, can- dles, and other ordinary goods, in boxes and bags, stacked up in front. Everything looks quiet and respectable, but the German or French proprietor of the place glances anxiously at our escort, who pushes open a green Venetian blind, which serves as a door at what appears to be the back of the room, and mo- tions for us to enter. Here, in an inner room, for which the grocery in the front is but a screen in reality, we find some twenty rascally-looking negroes from Panama, the West Indies, Peru and Guiana, sitting round dirty tables, playing draw-poker and other swindling games, with greasy, fairly stinking cards, for money which we know they never honestly earned. " Hulloa, that is you, is it ? You are a healthy crowd, yoti are ! One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine ' old cons.' One, two, three, four, five, six, seven chain-gang customers; and six that ought to be hanged, and will be, sooner or later." Having thus classified the occupants of the place, for our and their benefit, the officer leads us out once more on the street. We next enter a similarly appearing establishment, in which there are a billiard-table in the back room, A GOODLY COMPANY. 2QC - and a promiscuous crowd of Chileiios, Peruvians, and other Spanish- American cut-throats, playing "pool," with any amount of small change changing hands at every game. " That sharp-nosed fellow with the billiard-cue in his hand murdered a peddler at New Almaden a few years, since, but his woman swore him clear. That hook-nosed villain smokine there inthe corner, is a horse-thief from San Jose ; he has been over the Bay (z. e., in State Prison, or San Ouentin, across the Bay from San Francisco) three times, and will go again soon, I reckon. That little fellow there with the scar on his face is a monte deal- er; and that one with one eye is a burglar." And so our official friend runs on through the list, and we retire. We next enter a low room on the ground floor of a rickety, old frame-building, which has stood here since 1 849, and passing the screen which shuts off the view from the street, find a bar stocked with every species of liquid poison, at " 5 cents a glass." A rough- looking Irishman is behind the bar ; two miserable, bloated, loathsome- looking, drunken white females are quarrelling with each other in front ; on the set- tee ranged alonor the wall sits a third wreck of female humanity, swearing like a pirate, and cursing "the perlice" at every breath; while a man with a face like a diseased beef's liver, who once represented a Western State in Congress, is patting her on the back caressingly, and endeavoring vainly to quiet her, lest the police outside should hear her and make a raid on the establishment. In one corner, a party of Kanaka 2 q5 a cruise on the barbary coast. sailors, from a Honolulu whaling- vessel, are holding a drunken pow-wow; but as we cannot understand a word of their language, we pass them with a glance. At the sight of our companion, the policeman, the woman on the sofa breaks out, like a maniac, in fresh curses and vituperation, and stepping to the door he gives a long, sharp whistle. Two answering whistles are heard, and in a few seconds two more policemen arrive, and start with the furious woman between them for the calaboose. Guided by the music of violins, guitars and a piano, and the tramping of many feet, we descend a narrow stairway, and find ourselves in one of the most noto- rious dance-cellars of San Francisco. There is a low bar at one side of the room, near the entrance, and at the farther end a raised platform for the musicians. About forty young women and girls, ranging down to ten or twelve years of age, dressed in gaudy, flaunt- ing costumes, and with eyes lighted up with the bale- ful glare of dissipation, are on the floor, dancing with as many men, of all ages : rowdies, loafers, pimps, thieves, and their greenhorn victims ; while perhaps fifty men of the same stamp stand looking on and ap- plauding the performers. The room is blue with to- bacco-smoke, and reeking with the fumes of the vilest of whisky. Half a dozen men, or overgrown boys, are sitting or lying on the floor in various stages of inebriety, but they are unnoticed by the other occu- pants of the place. Every time a man takes a part- ner for the dance he pays fifty cents, half of which goes to the establishment and half to the girl, and at BARBARY COAST LODGINGS „ Q ~ the close of each dance he generally takes her to the bar and treats her. We notice with thankfulness that the females appear to be almost all of foreign birth, the exceptions being Spanish-Americans, with occa- sionally an Indian girl, who has been raised as a ser- vant in some family in San Francisco, but, Indian-like, prefers a life of idleness, vice and degradation to one of comfort and honest labor. This place has been the scene of many a savage affray and brutal murder ; and often have we seen the sawdust on its floor red with the blood of some victim of the knife or bullet. It is long past midnight, but the drunken orgies go on unchecked, and will do so for hours yet, if no bloody row occur to end them prematurely. " Do you want to see where these people lodge ? Come along with me," says our official friend. We notice many large lamps with "Lodgings 25, 50 and 75 cents per night," painted thereon, are hanging at the doors of dirty, dilapidated-looking buildings. We enter one of these places without ceremony. A wrinkled old hag sits in an outer band-box of an office, to receive the pay in advance from the custom- ers of the establishment. "Who have you got in here to-night," demands the man of the star. "Well, we ain't began to fill up much yet; but there's Tom Reynolds, an' Constable Bob, an' Bluey, an' Calla- han, and a few others. I hope you don't want any on 'em now, do ye? " replies the hag. Relieved by the assurance that the visit is only one of curiosity, not on behalf of the law, the old creature, with a chuckle of satisfaction, leads the way with the lamp, and we 2 gg A CRUISE ON THE BARBARY COAST. go through the premises. The rooms where the lodgers at 25 cents a night are stowed away are fitted with bunks, like the forecastle of a vessel, and each lodger has a narrow straw mattress, a pair of blankets — perhaps dirty sheets as well — and a pulu pillow. The dozen bunking thus in one room have not money or valuables enough, all put together, to pay any one of the number for the trouble of going through the pockets of the rest, and they can rest in peace un- til evening comes again, when they emerge on the streets once more, to resume their pursuit of plunder. When one of these fellows makes a raise by " rolling a drunk" (2. e., taking the valuables from the pockets of a drunken man on the sidewalk), " cracking a crib," or "jay hawking a Webfoot" (robbing a green Ore- gonian), he will take a single bed at 37^ cents in the next room, which is a little better furnished, and has two or three bedsteads in place of the bunks ; and, should his luck be extraordinarily good, and a fat pigeon fall in his way and get plucked, he will prob- ably go one degree further, and invest 50 cents in a room with one double-bed, and invite one of the frail females from the dance-cellar near at hand, or some one of the numerous deadfalls in the vicinity, to share his wealth with him. But for 50 cents a night a man could eet a eood bed at a second or third class lode- ing-house in a decent locality. Yes, but you forget that the patrons of such establishments as we are now in are all known to the police, and could not get ad- mitted anywhere else, except in disguise, and then only for a short time, if they had any amount of CATCHING A TARTAR. 2Qq money to pay their way with. That is why they must sleep here or on the street. Bidding the old hag good morning, we next visit a huge three or four story building, with a large area in the centre, and galleries all around the inside, cut up into almost innumerable little rooms, which are let, furnished, at so much per month, to the "pretty beer- slingers" and their male companions. Every girl attending in the beer- cellars has a male friend — some- times her husband, but not often — who fights her bat- tles, robs her of her earnings, and not unfrequently plunders, by collusion with her, the inebriated green- horns whom she entices into her den after the dead- fall has closed for the night. Bang ! bang ! bang ! What was that ? We hear the sharp whistle of a policeman and several answer- ing whistles, and run out to the street to see what is going on. The story is soon told. An officer has met three well-known thieves skulkinsf through an alley with something in bags on their backs. On general principles, he orders them to halt, and is an- swered with a staggering blow with a slungshot by one of them. To draw his revolver and let fly at each in succession is the work of an instant. One of the desperadoes is shot through the heart and falls dead in his tracks ; one is lying on the ground with his right thigh-bone shivered by the bullet, so that it will re- quire amputation ; and the third, barely hit in the side, has thrown up his hands, and stands waiting for the irons to be put on him. The police clear the field of action in a few minutes, and on searching the bags find - 00 A CRUISE ON THE BARBARY COAST. a quantity of valuable goods just taken from a grocery store on Pacific street, which the defeated party had broken open and plundered. (This occurred just as related quite recently ; the two survivors are now in the State Prison — one of them with a wooden leg — and the, officer is still on the police force.) The excitement being over, the officer conducts us through a narrow alley swarming with Chinese pros- titutes, and reeking with a thousand separate stinks, each more abominable than the other, to see what he designates as a "Chinese Hoo-doo House." In a back room, hidden entirely from the gaze of passers in the alley, we find a crowd of the lowest class of Chinese, who are enjoying themselves in various ways. There is an altar at one end of the room, with a Joss, in gorgeous vermilion and blue, sitting erect at the back. His face bears the same expression of conscious power, rest, and complete self-satisfaction which is seen on that of his more aristocratic brother in the Buddhist temples on Dupont and Pine streets, and he holds the fingers of his uplifted hand in the same mysteriously significant position. But instead of rich satin garments and costly hangings of crimson silk and wonderful gilt filagree work, he is clad in tawdry cotton - stuffs and surrounded by hangings of trifling value. The altar-ornaments are porcelain instead of bronze metal, and the meat-offerings before him are not such as would tempt the appetite of a well-regulated and healthy immortal, while the incense which is burning under his nose is redolent of tobacco and garlic rather than of sandal- wood and the costly