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^^HAVi^ 



f 







CONTENTS. 



Nbhus XXXVU.] 

S0TB8 AND SKETCHia ON THE BAT AND RIVEK 

Il.LDflTB«Ttoi(E — Scene at the month of Old Sacramento Ili*«r — Tbe StcBmboata 
Antelope kad Bragdon at Jackson St. Wharf, San FraDcitco — Alcatrac«g Island — 
B«d (or Trewore 1 Hook— The Two Sisteia— Straits of Carqninei— Benicia, Mar- 
tinet and Honte I>iablo — Scene at the Junction of Old Ttiver anil Steamboat 
Slangh— View Fire Hllea abore StMmboat Sloogh— GhoKh on tbe River Nina 
milu aboTe Steamboat Slongb — The Levee at Sacramento, from Wathington, 
Tolo CoantT. 

LINES TO :. 

THK GEAVE DIGGEBS, 

SPRING BIRDS, 

THE GHKAT CONDOR OF CALIFORNIA, (Coktiscbo.) 

THOUGH ABSENT TET NEAR, 

ODRTHODGHTS, 

THE SAILOR BOY'S DEATH 

THE MANIAC _„ 

THE SIGNING OP THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE 

THE PBBB SCHOOL SYSTEM OF CALIFORNIA, 

MY WINDOW SEAT 

A THIBDTB TO GENIUS 

ODR SOCIAL CHAIR, 

Summer in San Francisco — Noaological — The LoTers — Liltle Irii. 

OBIT-CHAT, 

OPERATIO AND DRAMATIC, 

THE PASSIONS 

MONTHLY RECORD OF CDRRKNT BTBNT8 

EDITOR'S TABLE, 

The Hew Volame— The FonrUi of Jul j— Political Trick?rj. 

TO CONTRIBUTORS AND CORRESPOSDBNTS, 



VtTCB BZPAIUMG £ 

.".""T"'..'^ I 

WATCH 

inzi x> .A. z m 14- o-l 

RowTorkPrioast ! 
[roM BBBT woBxxnt ta] 

Putienlwr ittentliiii to ; 

iREPAIRIHGFIREWATOHEsJ 

B(ilWitckGlHiti,iSCti. : 

COLLINS, 



lik 



ALL WOBK WASSjUTTBD. 



M 



P 

h 

I" 

LOCKWOOD, SWELL & Co. 

jjf^* !^*^ ! CUthing and FBrniBhing Gooils 

ITSOIaTand 107 Merchant Bt^ Ran 
FranolaaD, ft 173 Broadway, H. Y. 



the UDlMd 8Uta DliLrlet Cc 



0. F BOBBINS * FREEMAN, PRINTERS, COR. CLAY ahu BATTERY STS., S. F. 



HUTCHINGS' 

CALIFORNIA MAGAZI5E. 

Vol. IV. JULY, 1859. JSTo. 1. 

FROM SAN FRANCISCO TO SACRAMEKTO CITY. 



■CKCB AT ru aomo or old ■acrambmto sivoi. 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



Many of our readers are airare that 
the great navigable highway for at least 
three-fourths of the inland commerce and 
passenger transit of the State, lies through 
the northern end of the bay of San Franr 
Cisco, from thence past the southern shore 
of the bays of San Pablo and Suisun,and 
up the Sacramento river to Sacramento 
city. To illustrate the beautiful scenes 
upon this route we find it next to impos- 
sible to obtain faithful and reliable sketch- 
es from the deck of a swiftly moving 
steamboat, that generally makes the up- 
ward trip (123 miles,) within ten hours, 
about seven of whichj even in summer, 
are by night. To obviate this difficulty, 
the writer, in company with two others, 
engaged a sailing craft of about five tons 
burthen, and deposited thereon our pre- 
oious lives, (without even taking the pre- 
caution of having them insured ) a limi- 
ted but assorted cargo of general stores, 
cooking apparatus, bedding, and other 
sundries, then gave our canvas to the 
breeze, and were off. 

As one of our party, in addition to be- 
ing an excellent draughtsman, was famil- 
liar with the mysteries of navigation,and 
the other with the duties appertaining to 
the office of a chtf de cuisinCf we all con- 
sidered that ourprospectsof securing the 
end at which we aimed were indeed flat- 
tering ; while the comfort and pleasure 
we endured would more than counter- 
balance all the risks that were underta- 
ken, and at the sataie time allow us the 
opportunity of sailing • when and where 
we pleased, for all the sketches and en- 
joyment that we wanted. 

Inasmuch as the course of our voyage, 
by mutual consent, lay ground several 
islands and among numerous sloughs and 
lagoons of the Sacramento, as well as on 
the principal streams, occupying some 
eight days, and as much of our time was 
consumed among the beaver-trappers and 
salmon-fishers and curers on the above 
named waters, we shall not now reeoont 



our personal experiences and adventures, 
but reserve these subjects for a future 
and more suitable occasion, and take the 
reader, with his or her consent, by the 
far more pleasant and expeditious route 
of steamboat navigation. 

There probably is not a more exciting 
and bustling scene of business activity in 
any part of the world, than can be wit- 
nessed on almost any day, Sunday excep- 
ted, at Jackson street wharf, San Fran- 
cisco, at a few minutes before 4 o'clock 
P. M. Men and women are hurrying to 
and fro; drays, carriages, express-wagons 
and horsemen, dash past you with as 
much rapidity and earnestness as though 
they were the bearers of a reprieve to 
some condemned criminal whose last mo- 
ment of life had nearly expired, and by 
its speedy delivery thought they could save 
him from the scaffold. Indeed one would 
suppose by the apparent recklessness of 
driving and riding through the crowd, 
that numerous limbs would be broken, 
and carriages made into pieces as small 
as mince meat; but yet to your surprise 
nothing of the kind occurs,for on arriving 
at the smallest real obstacle to their pro- 
gress, animals are suddenly reined in, 
with a promptness that astonishes you. 

On these occasions, too, there is almost 
sure to be one or more intentional pass- 
engers that arrive just too late to get 
aboard,and who in their excitement often 
throw an overcoat or valise on the boat, 
or overboard, but neglect to embrace the 
only opportune moment to get on board 
themselves, and are consequently left be- 
hind, as these boats are always punctual 
to their time of starting. 

Supposing that we havd been more for- 
tunate, by securing our passage and state- 
room in good time, please to put on your 
overcoat, as it is always cool in the eve- 
ning on the bay, and let us take a cosy 
seat together, and while the black volonHes 
of smoke are rolling from the tops of the 
funneU, and the boat is shooting past thb 



NOTES Am) SK8TCHBS ON THE BAT AND RIVER. 



7 4 .. 2 , 



miTOHlNGS' CAUTORKIA MAGAamt. 



ILCATRACU II 



wbarf, anii tbat resael now ij'iag iX an- 
ebot ia tbe ba; or in full Bail upon her 
Tojage, or irhile numeroua nerTOna peo- 
ple are troubled ftbout their baggage and 
asking the porter all sorts of queBtione, 
let ua have a quiet chat together, npon 
the acenei we may nitneae on our trip, 
and tbe blatorical facts connocted with 
the earlj navigfttion of this beautiful 
route to the interior. 

The firat Bailing vesael that made the 
Toyage from San Francisco to where Sac- 
ramoDto eitynow B(imda,waBthe schooner 
Isabella, chartered b; Capt John A. Sut^ 
ter, about tbe 5th of August, 1839; and 
owing to the Dumerous intricate outtetB 
of tbe Sacramento river, bo was eight 
daje in discoTering its main channel ; and 
when about ten mileB below where Sac- 
Tamonto cilf now stands, two hundred 
armed and hostile Indiaoe intercepted 
his progress. 

These however, he aucocedod in concil- 
iating, and was then allowed to proceed 
OD his TOjage accompanied by two of tbe 
natives. Other eail vessels of oourse fol- 
lowed at different times, in the wake of 
the pioneer achoonor " Isabella, " but as 
we are now more interested in steam nav- 
igation we eball not mention them more 

The first steamboat that ever plowed 
the waters of the Sacrameato, from San 
Prutcisco, was the " Sitka, " a Ruaaian 
built, atera wheel TCMel, about siitj feet 



in length by seventeen iu breadth, owned 
bj Capt Leideadorff, ( the fomer owner 
of most of the Folsom property,) and she 
reached what wastben known as Sutter's 
DOW Sacramento cilj, id 
1847- 

The neit was a stern wheel steam 
scow named the " Ladj Washington, " 
built at Sutter's. Gmbarcadcro, in Sept., 
1849, and was owned by Simmons, Hutch- 
inson &, Co., and Smith, Bensley & Co., 
of that place, was run upon the upper 
rivers, and was tbe pioneer steam veBsel 
above tbe mouth of tbe American river. 
The first trip was to where Coloma now 
stands; but unfortunately on her return 
trip she struck a anag and sunk, but was 
afterwards raised, refitted,and named the 
Ohio. 

The nest was a aide-wbeel steamer 
that was sent out on board shipa from 
New York, put together in Sacramento 
city, there named tbe "Sacramento," and 
was run between Sacramento city and 
New York, on the Pacific, (a city of great 
pretensions, that was located near the 
mouth of the San Joaquin, butlongsincs 
defunct,) and there connected with a lino 
of schooners from Son Francisco. Tbla 
vessel was owned and commanded bj 
Capt. John Vun Pelt. 

A small craft called the "Hint," waa 
the neit ateamboat,and ran on this route 
through from San Francisco to Sacrk- 



NOTES AND SKETCHES ON THE BAT AND RITER. 



Tho Urge propetler HeKin, of about 
400 toBi burthen, wfts Uie ont id roUtion, 
■od nude her brtp from New Orleena, 
tbnwgh the itraits of Magellan to San 
Franeiaeo, ia 1819, and took her first 
trip Dp the Saerameoto, in the latter p&rt 
of OcL of that year. 

Bj far the moat beautiful, most oom- 
nodioos, taost oomfbrtable, and at the 
ante tine, the moat Bucaeiafut steamboat 
tli»t ever ran on the Sacramento river, 
waa the "Senator," of 500 tons burthen. 
She nude the voyage around Cape Horn 
and arrived hereon the 27th of Oct., 1849, 
end ber first trip op to Sacramento city 
N'oT. 51b, following. Her rates of fare 
*ere 92S per paownger up, and 930 
d.>VD ; Healt $2, each ; Stateroom $10 ; 
Freight per ton from $40 to $50 . 

Daring the first year on that 
roale ber net proGta exceeded 
K0,000 per month; and ever 
•iace ebe haa been a very profit- ' 
able boat for ber ownare. The 
noaber of her paasengere waa ; 
l^erailj about three hundred, ' 
tad her freifcht about from 
t*o hondred to three hundred 

The next waa a •tera-ifheel steamboat 
ailed the " Lawrence," 108 feet in length 
by IB feet in width. She was broagbt 
Mt by a New Bedford company and put 
■p at New York on the Paoific; and when 
iniihad, ahe was sent to Stookton about 
ib« Utter part of Nov., 1849, and was the 
int ateamboat that ever sailed for or ar- 
med at that city. In December follow- 
iag the was taken to Saorameulo and 
(hare eold, when ber new owner* sent 
bar ap the Feather river to Haryerille, 
ia Qooaand of Capt. Chadwick, and she 
*M the flrsl steamboat that ever asoeu- 
ded that river. 

The "Linda," a stern-wheel steamer, was 
iha next, owned bj a oompany of which 
Hark Brvm magem wasoQeoftheprtneipal 
She tan between Saoramanto 



eitj and HarjaTille. Freight on the 
Lawrence and Linda was from 8 to 10 
cents per pound; drinks 50 cents each. 

Tbi first steamboat that ever ascended 
the Sacremeuto river as far as Tehama 
was the "Jack Hayes," commanded by 
Capt Mosely, in May, 1850. She was 
first named Uie Oommcdore Jones, but 
being lengthened and otherwise changed, 
she lost her identitj and her name nt the 
same time. 

The "Gold Hunter," commanded by 
Capt Branhain, now the U. 8. surveying 
sohooner AcUve, was put on about this 
time, but soon withdrawn. 

The "Capt Sutter," a small stern 
wheel boat, although only the second boat 
to Stockton, was the first to make regular 
trips from San Francisco to thatci^, and 



axn (or TRIAaCHi) BOCK. 

succeeded the "Lawrence." She was 
pot up by Capt. James Blair, of the U. 
S. Navy, and waa more successful in pn^ 
portion to her siie than the Senator on 
the other route ; and cleared not leas than 
$200,000 for her owners the first year. 

We might mentioii tnpattanl, to illus- 
trate the Urge profits made by steamboats 
at that early day, that the Lawroncemade 
a trip from Saoramanto eity to Lassen's 
Ranch, and received 30 cents per pound 
for freight on her entire cargo. 

The following list of the various 
■teamboata that have from time to Hme 
been running on this route, oocasionallj 
changing to eome other, or been laid up, 
ia as oomplele aa we could make it, and 
we think will indnde nearly the wboU 
that have ever been npon it :— 



HUTCHINO'S CALIFORNIA BIAGAZINB. 



Ouodmsn Castle, Camaochi 

Got. Dana, J. Br^on, 

Shaata, H. J. Clay, 

Ptumas, American B^le, 

Oiuelle, HelsD Uenelej, 

Cleopatra, " Anna Abernetbj, 

Belle, Willamette, 

Gem, Eclipse, 

Capt. Salter, Queen City, 

Pike, Kate Kearny, 

Orient, Eipress, 

FaBhion, Caleb Cope, 

Nevada, Sagamore, 

Daniel Moir, Mariposa, 

Kennebec, W. E. Robinaon, 

MaryBTille, Got. Dana, No. 2. 

CI»T», Sophia, 

Medea, Voioo,{rTonVeuel) 

Jamee Blair, Cornelia, 

Enterpriae, C. M. Webber, 
Lawrence, (fov Pruturt.) 

Lawna, Senator, 

Maria, New World, 

Pearl, Confidence, 

Etna, W. G. Hunt, 

Sam Sonle, Antelope, 

Swan, Thomas Hunt^ 

San Joaqain, Surprfee, 

Tehama, Ootiah, 

Fire Fij, El Dorado, 

Kangaru), Gold Hunter, 

(nmo AiMtit.) 
PROFVtLIKS. 

McRim, Hartford, 

Qen. Warren, Eudora, 

Commodore Preble, Major Tompkina, 
Chesapeake. 
While we ha^e thas been goaaiping 
about steam boatSiire have arrived off A1- 
catraces or Pelican Island. Thia we see 
ia just oppoaite the Golden Gate, and 
about half way between San Franoiaao 
and Angel Island. It commands the en- 
trance to the great bay of San Francisco, 
and ia bat three and a half miles from 
Fort pMot. 



This island ia 140 feet in height abov« 
low tide, 450 feet m viidth, and 1650 feet 
in length, somewhat irregular in shape ; 
and fortified on allaides. The large build- 
ing on it« summit, about the centre or 
creat of the island, is a defensive bar- 
rack or citadel, three stories bigh, and 
in time of pea^e will accommodate about 
200 men, and in time of war at least 
three times that number. It is not only 
a shelter for the men, and will withstand 
a respectable cannonade, but from the top 
a murderous fire could be poured njioii 
ita aaaailanta at all parts of the island, 
and from whence every point of it is vis- 
ible. There is a belt of fortifications en- 
circling the island, consisting of aseriesof 
Barbette batteries, mounting altogether 
about 94 guns, 24, 42, 68, and 132 poun- 

The first building that you notice after 
landing at the irharf ia a maaaive brick 
and atone guard house, shot and shell 
proof, well protected by a heavy gate and 
draw-bridge, and has three embrasures 
for 24 pound howitzers that command the 
approach from the wharf. The top of 
this, like the barracks, ia flat, for the uae 
and protection of riflemen. Other guard- 
houses of similar oonatrnction are built 
at different points, between which there 
are long lines of parapeta sufficiently 
high to preclude the possibility of an es- 
calade, and back of which are circular 
platforms for mounting guns i^f the heav- 
iest caliber, some of which weigh from 
9,000 to 10,000 pounds. In addition U> 
theae there are three bomb-proof maga- 
zinea, each of which vrill hold 10,000 lbs . 
of powder. On the aouth-eaatern side 
of the island ia a large fumoca for the 



NOTES AND SKETCHES ON THE BAT AND RITER. 



of beftting euinon bftlla ; uid 
aiUr contiirsDCM are in conne 



Cnfortonktelj then ii no natnnd inp- 
p)y of water on the ialmnd, to tbat sll of 
that olBment which is oaed there ia takeo 
fmn Saoeelito. In the buement of the 
bameka ia & eiitem capable of hold- 
ing 50,000 gallooa of water, a portion of 
whicfa eaa be rapplied from the roof of 
that baiUing in lh« raioy seaaoD. 

Apfnpritt^oaa have beea made far the 
fonif eatioa of thia ialand to the amount 
•r $806,000, and abont 1100,000 more 
will eonidete them. From 40 to 200 meib 
baT« been emplojed apon theae woika 
■inea their cimimeneement in 16A3. 

Aitheaonlb-eaitemendof the ialand is 
a log bell of abonttfaeaame weightaa that 
M Port Point, and which i> regulateJ to 
Mrika bj maohinerj onoe in about ererj 
ifbeao •eoonda. 

Tha whole of the worka on thia iiland 
are ander the akillfol ■aperintendanee of 
lieat UcPharaoD, who Terj kindlr ax- 



r CARItDINEE. 

pluned to ua the atrengtli and purpoeea 
of the different fortification* mode. ' 

The lighthouae at tiie aoutb of the bar- 
racks contiuna a Fresnel Isntero of the 
third order, and which can be seen on a 
clear night some twelve milea outeide the 
heads, and ie of great service in lugeeet- 
ing the course of a Teasel when entering 
the bay. 

Yet, aa we are suling on at considera- 
ble Bpeed across the entrance to the Bay, 
towards Angel Island, we mustnot linger 
here, not even in imagination ; eapecial- 
ly as we can now look out throngh the ttr 
famed Oolden Oate and towards the got 
den hinged hope of many who with lin- 
gering eyes have longed to look upon it 
and to enter through ila charmed portals 
to this land of gold. Hownabytoo have 
longed and hoped for yeara to pass it 
ouoe again, on their way oat to the en- 
deared and loving heartathat wait to wel- 
come them atthat.dear spot they still call 
Uomel Ood bleaa then. 
Now the vaaael ia in full aail, and ateam- 



. HDTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. - 



AND MONTB DIABLO. 



Hhipt, that are enuring the beads, mawell 
as those within thai are taoking now on 
this stretch and now on that to make waj 
out against tbe strong northwest bre«B9 
that blows in at the Golden Oste for three 
eighths of the jear, are fast being lost to 
sight, and we are just abreast of Angel 
Island and but five miles from the pitj 
of Son Fran cisoo. This Island was gran- 
ted bj OoT. AlTBrado to Antonio M. 
Aaio, byordar of the OoTCrnment of Mex- 
ico, in 1S37; and b; him sold to its prea- 
ent owners ,iu 1853. As it contains some 
SOO acres of excellent land it is bj f>ir 
the largest and most valuable of any in 
the Baj of San Franoisoo', and the green 
wild oats that grow to its ^rj summit in 
earlj spring, but ripened now, ^t« ex- 
cellent postnrage to sUwk of all kinds; 
while the natural springs at different 
points afford abundance of water at dU. 
seasons. At the present time there aro 
about 500 sbeep roaming over its fertila 
bills. A largeportion of the laud is sus- 
ceptible of cultivation for grain and .Teg- 
etAbles. 

From the inexhaustible quarries of 
hard blue and brown sandstone that herv 
abound, have been taken nearlj all of 
the stone used in the foundations of the 
numerous buildings in San Fraooisco. — 
The extensive fortifications at Alcalraoea 
Island, Fort Point, and other places.ha** 
been faced with it; and the extensiTS 
Oovemment works at Mare Island h«*s 
been principallj built with stone from 
these qnarries. and monj thousands of 
tons will 7et be required from the sanM 
source before the fortifications and othsr 
Government works are completed. Claj 
is also found in abundance, and of an ex- 
cellent qnalitj fbr making bricks. 

^n 1856 this Island was suivejed bj 
the U. 8. Engineers, for the purpose of 
locating sites for two 24 gun batteriOe, 
whioh are in the line of fortifioations re- 
quired before our Bay may be considered 
u fortified. The moat import&nt of these 



NOTES AND SKETCHES ON THE BAT AND RIVER. 



«■ AT THB JimcTioir or olc 

M will ba on tha notih-wMt point 
of th* lalAnd.uid will oommuid Rscoooti 
Sinuta; kad antil thif is bnilt, onr N&vj 
Tin) >t Hbm lalftnd, and sreu the oitj 
«f Swi Fnii«i«M itaair cannot ba oontid- 
•ndfift, u tbroagh tboM Straila ahip* 
«r war eonid eaaily paaa, if bj meaDa of 
tha baa>Vj fog that ao flraqnantlj hangi 
orar tba entraaea la tha baj, or othar 
•anaa, tbe; one* paaaod Fort Point in 
aafaty. Bat let oa pan on to Rad Rock. 
Thia BDgolar looking iiland waa (or- 
■erlj called Treainre or Ooldan Rock in 
old efawta, from eome tmditionarj report 
bMDg ciienUtBd of lonie large treaaore 
hanag beaa onoe carried there bj earl/ 



Rirn AMD STBAHBOAt SLOiroa. 

Spanish naTigaton. In charte of recent 
date bowerer, it ia sometimei called Mo- 
late Island, bat is now more gea^rallr 
known as Red Rock, bom its general 

There are sevenl strata of rock, of 
different color^ if rook it can be called, 
one of which ia rerj fine and resembles 
an article sometimes foaod npon a lady's 
toilet-table— of coarse in earlier dajs^ 
known as rooge-powder. Besides this 
there are seTeral stratas of a epecies of 
claj-or colored pigment, of from fonr to 
twalTa inchee jn tbicknesa, and of Tari- 
ooa oolora. Upon the beach nnmetons 
■nail Tad pebblaa, rerj much rseembling 



10 



HUTOHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



cornelian, are found. There can be but 
little wonder it should be called "Red 
Rock" by plain matter-of-fact people like 
ourselves. It is covered with wild oats 
to its summit, on which is planted a 
flagstaff and cannon. Some four years 
ago its locator and owner, Mr. Selim £. 
Woodworth, took about half a dozen tame 
rabbits over to it, from San Francisco, 
and now there are several hundred. 

Aft Mr. W., before becoming a bene- 
dict, made this his place of residence, he 
partially graded its apparently inaccess- 
ible sides; and at different points planted 
several ornamental trees. A small bach- 
elor's cabin stands near the water's edge, 
and as this affords the means of oooking 
fish and sundry other dishes, its owner 
and a small party of friends pay it an 
occasional visit for fishing and general 
recreation. Several sheep roam about 
on the island, and as they like rabbits 
never drink water, they do not feel the 
loss of that which nature has here failed 
to supply. 

But on, on we sail, and pass Maria 
Island and also two low rocks called 
the Two Sisters, and after shooting by 
Point San Pablo, we enter the large bay 
of that name ; charmed as we are with 
fine table and grazing lands on our righj( 
at the foot of the Contra Costa range o^ 
hills. 

Just before entering the Straits of Car- 
quinez, tbatconnecta the bays of San Pa- 
blo and Suisun, on our led we get a 
glimpse of the Government works at 
Mare Island, and the town of Yallejo; but 
as we shall probably have something to 
say about these points at some future 
time, we will now take a look at the 
straits. As the stranger approaches these 
for the first time, he makes up hi^ mind 
that the vessel on which he stands is out 
of her course and is certainly running 
towards a bluff, and will soon be in trou- 
ble if she does not change her course, but 
as he advances and the entrance to this 



narrow channel becomes visible, he then 
concludes that a few moments ago he 
entertained a very foolish idea. 

Now however the bell of the steamboat 
and a porter both announce that we are 
coming near Benicia, and that those who 
intend disembarking here had better 
have their baggage and their ticket in 
readiness. One would suppose as the 
bo^ nears the wharf that sue is going to 
run '* right into it," but soon she movcfto 
gracefully round and is made fast; but 
while those ashore and those aboard are 
eagerly scanning each other, to see if 
there is any familiar face to which to 
give the nod of recognition, or the cordial 
waving of the hand in friendly greeting, 
we will take our seats and say a word or 
two about this city. 

. Benicia was founded in. the fall of 1847 
by the late Thomas 0. Larkin, and Ro- 
land Semple (who was also the originator 
and editor of the first California news- 
paper published at Monterey, Aug. 15th, 
1846, entitled " The Ccdifomian/') upon 
land donated them for the purpose by 
Gen. M. G. Yallejo, and named in honor 
of the General's estimable lady. 

In 1848 a number of families took up 
-their residence here. During the fall of 
that year a public school was established, 
and which has been continued uninter- 
ruptedly to the present. In the ensuing 
spring a Presbyterian church was organ- 
ized, and has continued under its origi- 
nal pastor, to the present time. 

The peculiarly favorable position of 
Benicia recommended it at an early day 
as a suitable place for the general military 
headquarters of the U. S., upon theTacifio. 
Being alike convenient of access both to 
the sea-board and interior, and far enough 
from the cOast to be secure against sud- 
den assault in time of war, it was seen 
that no more favorable position could 
be selected, as adapted tc^ all contingen- 
cies. These views met the approval of 
the General Government ; and according- 



NOTES AND SKETCHKS ON THE BAY AND BIYS^ 



TIBV riVI MILES ABOTB SmMBOiT ELODGH. 



H «xtai«iT« ilorehoiMM wero built, mili- 
ISTj pasta ••t»blitb«iit ; and «iT»ngem«Dts 
nadeibr Erecting here the principal ar- 
•ma] OD the Pacific ooa«t. 

Then alraadj are erected barracks for 
the aoldiera, and offiMra* qoartera ; two 
■afBiiuee capable of holding from 6,000 
to 7,000 barrels of guD-powder of 100 Iba. 
caefa ; two ■torehouaes filled with gao- 
mrisf^, cuitiOD, bail, and seTeral hnn- 
dred stand of antall arms, beaidu work- 
About one hundred men are now em- 
plojed, under the laperinlendanoe of 
Capt F. D. Calender, in tfae oonitraction 
of an Araenal 200 feet in length bj 60 
llMt tn width, and three iloriee in bught, 
MiitsUy picnded with towers, loop-bolea, 
window*, Ac. Beeidea thia a large oita- 
del ia IB ooarae of erection. (225,000 
haxe already been appropriated to theae 
works, and thej will moat probablj re- 
^irA a* BBch more before the whole ia 
COB plated. 

Hare too are ten highlj and eorioaalj 
enaaented bronse cannon, us 8 ponnd- 
a> and four 4 poiindera,that were broaght 
•riginaUjr frota 'old Spain, and taken at 
Fort Foiat daring one war with Hexieo. 



The following namea and datea are in- 
aoribed on some of them, betides coata of 
ftrma, &o. 

San Martin, Ana. D. 16S4." 
Poder, Ana D, 160S." 
San Francisco, Ano. D. 1673." 
San Domeogo, Ano. D. 1679." 
San Pedro, Ano. D. 1628." 
As tfae barracka are merely a depot 
for the reception and tranamiaeion of 
troopa, it ia difficult to aaj how many aol- 
diera are qoartered here at any one tJme. 
There are numerous other interea^ng 
plaeea about Benicia, one of which ia the 
extenaiveworkBof tbePaciBe Mwl Steam- 
ship Company, where all the repairs to 
their TcsaeU are made, eoal deposited. 

In 1853 Benicia waa choaen the capital 
of the State by oar. peripatetic Legisla- 
tare, and continued to hold that position 
for about a year, when it wae taken to ' 
Sacramento, where it still (for a wonder) 



And.tfaoagh last, by no meana the leaat 
important feature of Benicia, is the wide- 
ly kaown and deaerredly flourishing 
boarding sohool for young ladies, the 
Banida seminary, under the charge of 



nnrcniNQS' California maqazine. 



CBCBCB ON TBI RITBR, MIHB HILBS 



Hiss Mar; Atkins, founded in 1852, and 
in which several joung ladies have taken 
graduating honors. Next to this is the 
collegiate school for young gentlemen 
under the sup erin tendance of Mr. 71att, 
and irbich was established in 1853. Next 
to this is the college of Notre Dome 
for the education of Catholic children. — 
-These, united to the excellent sea timeuta 
of the people, make Bentcia a favorite 
place of residence for families. 

Neorl; opposite to Benicia and distant 
only three miles is the prett; agricultural 
Tillafi^ of Martinez, the county-seat of 
Contrft Co3,ta countj. A week among 
the live-oaks, gardens, and farms in and 
around this lovely spot, will convince the 
most skeptical that there are few more 
beautiful places in any part of the State. 
A steam ferry boat runs across the struts 
between this place and Benicia every 
hour in the day. The Stockton boat 
always touches here both going and retur- 
ning. 

Butnow we moat hurry on our way.as 
the steamboat is by this time passing the 
different islands in the bay of Suisnnj 
named as follows : — Preston Island, 
King's, Simmons', Davis', Washington, 
Knox's and Jones' Islands i andpaaaiag 



. New Tork on the Padfio, wa 
arrive at the west end of & 
large, low tule flat lying be- 
tween the San Joaquin and the 
Sacramento, named Sherman's 
Island, and here we enter the 
Sacramento river. The Monte- 
xuma bills seen on our right, 
and a fevf stunted trees on the 
left, are the only objects in (he 
landscape to reltev the eye 
by contrast with the low tule 
swamp, until ws approa«h the 
new and flourishing little set- 
tlement of Rio Vista, just oppo- 
site the mouth of the " old Sao- 
ABOVx ramento river," or more prop- 
erly speaking, the principal 
branch of the stream. 
This village is just about half-way be- 
tween Benicia and Sacramento, and l»da 
fair to be a place of some importance 
eventuall;, as arrangements are now be- 
ing made to open a road past here, and 
between Suisun and Vacca Valleys and 
Stockton. From Mr. C. A. Eirkpatrick, 
thd obliging post-master there, we are fa- 
vored with the following table of distan- 



From San Francisco to Benicia. ...30 UUes. 

to New York ,S0 " 

to mouth of San JoBqniD,31 " 
to moutb of Sac. River,. ..26 

Montezuma, 2i ' 

Lone Tree Island, 29 ' 

TwinUousei, 33 ■ 

Seven Milo Sloiigli 39 

Wood Island, [2 M.LoDg.]40 

Rio ViBta, 41 ' 

Uouth of old Sac, River, 43 ' 
Uouth Cache creek slough ,46 

Hog's Back, 4S ' 

Beaver Blougb, 53 ' 

Houtb Steamboat slough, 64 ' 
Month of SuUer Blough,...&4, ' 
Head of Sutter Blougb,....55 ' 
[one mile Ions-] 
" Head Steamboat slough, 
and janction nitb the main Sacra- 
mento river, [5 miles lung.] 5S ' 
From Benicia to Randall's Island 61 
[2 miles long.] 
From Benicia to Sac. cit;, 90 



NOTES AND SKETCHES ON THE BAT AND RIVER. 



14 



UUTCUUNGS' CALHORNIA MAGAZINE. 



As we baTe seen, six milea aboTe the 
mouth of the old riTer, is the far famed 
" Hog's Back.'^ This ia fonned by the 
settiingof tLe sediment which comes down, 
caused bj a widening of the stream, and 
a decrease in the fall of the river. It 
extends for abont three hundred yards 
in length; and at the lowest stage of water 
is about five feet from the surface, and at 
the highest point eleven feet six inches. 
Being affected by the tides, and as they 
are exactly at the same point every two 
weeks, during the fall season of the year 
for two or three days at each low tide, a 
detention of heavily freighted vessels of 
from one to four hours will then take 
place. Persons when descending the 
river, as the steamboat generally leaves 
Sacramento city at 2 o'clock, P. M., have 
an opportunity of knowing when they 
• arrive at the Hogs' Back by seeing the 
mast of a vessel with the lower cross- 
trees upon it, and sometimes a portion of 
her bulwarks. This vessel was named 
the Charleston, and was freighted princi- 
pally with quartz machinery, a portion 
m which being for the Gold Hill Quarts 
Co., at Qrass Valley, she had discharged, 
but the owners of another and larger 
portion of it not being found, she was 
returning* with it to San Francisco, but 
having stuck upon this sand bank at a 
very low stage of the water, she careened 
over and was swamped. Several attempts 
have since been made to take out the ma- 
chinery, but as yet it has defied all at- 
tempts, and being filled with sand it will 
be a very difficult task for any one to 
perform, and the reward be but a poor 
one, inasmuch as it cannot be in any other 
than a spoiled condition from rust and 
other causes. 

There is a little steam scow called the 
Gipsey, that plies between the various 
ranches and gardens on the river, and 
Sacramento city, taking vegetables, grain 
flour &c., up to the city, and returning 
with groceries, dry gooda, papers, &c. — 



By this ^eana she baa created quite a 
snug little business for herself and be* 
come an indispensable visator to the resi< 
dentw en the river. 

Sacramento City is at length in view, 
but we have gossiped so much by the 
jvray, that we have not the space left 
to devote to the subject which we should 
wish to give to a: place holding the second 
rank on the Pacific coast, and poesesaing 
as many objects of interest as does our 
sister City of the Plains. We shall,there-' 
fore, defer all remarks until some future 
number, when we intend to give an elab- 
orate description of the capital of our 
Golden State. 

In conclusion, we would say to those 
who wish to escape for a brief season the 
confinement of city life, and enjoy a sum- 
mer's ramble, we could not recommend 
a tour which can be made with so much 
ease, and is so generally calculated to 
please every variety of tastes, as a trip 
on the bay and river. The tourist who 
merely journeys for amusement — the in- 
dividual desirous of beholding the unboun- 
ded resources of our state, and the artist, 
will each find much to gratify the desires 
which induced them to travel. 

The scenery as you steam up the river 
is in no slight degree picturesque. Here 
and there, as you turn with the sudden 
windings of the stream, you come upon 
the little boats of fishermen, and sloops, 
with their sails furled like the folded 
wings of a sea-bird, waiting for the wind. 
The improvemente of the husbandman 
are everywhere seen along the shores. — 
Cottages half hidden among the drooping 
branches of the sycamores, out-houees, 
haystacks, orchards, and gardens, with 
their product of squashes and cabbages 
piled in huge heaps, give a oheerful do- 
mestic character to the scene. The land- 
scape is diversified by the gnarled oaks, 
with vines clinging about them for sup- 
port, and their branches covered with 
dark masses of mistletoe. Far away tha 



THE GRAVE DIGGERS. 



15 



■oov-capped Sierras, with a black belt 
ttf {H1MS at their base, and nearer the 
i&isi-draped Coast Range, rise on the 
▼iew. Along the plains are here and 
there seen damps of trees — a sure indi- 
catioa of irater; and occasionally the 
cbarred trunk of some blasted tree lifts 
ite bitfe branches toward heaven in soli- 
tMXj grandeur. Daring the seasons when 

the immense tracts of tules which cover 

« 

the low lands are on fire, the conflagra- 
tioa lends a wild and peculiar beauty to 
th« Scenes on the Bay and River. 



LINES TO 



Talk as you will — ^think as you may 

Of bomao Tirtues, loves and graces, 
Tb« indices of haman hearts 

Are Tartly ever human faces ; 
Aad <|mte as bard to judge, I think, 

Is friendship by its oft inditing — 
Taa cannot tell of human worth, 

By any test of human writing. 

Beneath the merriest face I know, 

There throbs a heart of bitter sadness,- 
iil seeming joy — ^all real woe — 

Deep sorrow hid 'neath smiles of gladness, 
Aad one who donbts sweet friendship's 
tmth, 

And scouts at love's fair dream beguiling, 
Will write in noblest praise of both, 

Aa both were on him ever smiling ! 

I re seen the mother's love destroyed, [ed, 
for her sweet ch ild once loved and cberish- 
Tve seen the father's watchful care 

Turned into hate when love had perished ; 
The sweetest friendships I have known, 

CoDSdiog, true, unselfish seeming, 
A ilanderons word made bitterest scorn, 

Aad taught the heart it was but dreaming. 

« 

There is one friendship — not of earth — 

A boon to weary mortals given, 
Thai ne'er forsakes in darkest hours. 

And draws the soul to God and heaven. 
This is ^* true friendship " — be it thine, 

Secure it now with brave endeavor ; 
Its silken bands of love and truth 

Hoi even death itself can sever { 



THE GRAVE DIGGERS. 



UNCLE RALPH'S STORT. 



BY G. T. 8. 

Tou see, brother Tom and I courted 
sisters, and there were no nicer girls in 
all the village than Hetty and Nancy 
Rice, who afterward became our wives. 
I say it who ought to know; although it 
may sound foolish for a man to be heard 
praising his own kith and kin. 

Well, we had been at Deacon Rice's 
sitting up with our girls — ^it was one Sun- 
day night in the month of September. — 
How well I remember it-just one of those 
nights that we have after the fall winds 
set in — the moon riding high, and the 
wind coming in gusts, and driving the 
great heavy masses of white clouds, look- 
ing like snow drifts, over the whole face 
of the sky. 

We had started to go home together — 
I should think it must have been about 
half past one o'clock — and we had to go 
by the old burying ground on the green ; 
for our house lay just beyond Minister 
Moore's old stone parscmage. We walk- 
ed along by the east wall where the road 
lay, talking pretty briskly, and whistling 
to keep off bad thoughts, when suddenly, 
Tom stopped and said, **Ralph, don't you 
see something? Look there!" pointing 
tovrards the west end of the churchyard, 
where an old yew tree stood near the 
wall. I looked and saw some object ; but 
I could not tell what it was. Just then 
the moon shone out, and I made it out to 
be ft horse and wagon, standing under 
the old yew. • 

I said to Tom, " This bodes no good. — 
The grave diggers are about — that is their 
horse and wagon standing under the old 
yew, and they must be at work somewhere 
among the graves.'^ 

Presently we thought we heard voices, 
and the sound of steps approaching, and 
then we saw two men moving from the 



Id 



HUTCfinrGS' CAUmKIA XAGAZUCK, 



eeoireof tfce t hmr t hymi d totfidi the oki 
tree. We w^i/dbed their moremeDtB. 
They palled ool wbai looked to be a blaa- 
fcel fr<wi tfae bottooi of tbe vagim ; ve 
mm tbem wrap U aroand tbe eutp ee we 
knew it was each, for it waa in tfae shape 
of a man and dre««edin white — and then 
thej carefalij laid ii awaj in tbe bottom 
of the wa^oo. They then went aa we 
sop^jsed to fill op the grare. ' 

I said to Tom, "don't let as let the raa- 
eals escape. Let as go and take that bod j 
and hide it under the shadow of thewaU; 
and, Tom either joa or I will take its 
place, and they will find when they get 
home that they hare goi a living man to 
deal with instead of a dead one/' 

"Good 1" said Tom, -Ralph, I'll be the 
man to play that game. Nothiog I shoald 
like better, only lend me your dirk-knife 
so that if worse eomes to worse I can 
take care of myielf/' 

"Done," I replied, and we crawled 
along in tbe shadow of the wall and came 
to the old yew. 

We quickly got the body oat of tbe 
wagon and laid it close under the wall in 
tlie shade, and Tom wrapped himself in 
the blanket and laid himself in its place. 

" A sound sleep to you," I said, " and 
don't wako up till at tbe best time and 
place.". I then hastened and secreted 
myself in the shadow of tbe wall. 

Presently I paw the men approaching. 
Tbcy had shovels on their shoulders, and 
were on a fast trot, stepping lightly as 
tbey were able among the thick brush 
wood. They went directly towards tfae 
wagon, and I beard one of them say, 
'Mack,«thl8 body is too long to ride here 
in the bottom; you will have to lift it up, 
while I drive, and wo will ride with it 
between us. Look, I have brought my 
old bat, in case it should be needed. Put 
it on bis head and set him up. It iH cloudy 
you know, and nobody will mistrust." 

I saw them lift Tom up, and the one he 
called Jack, pat the hat on his head. At 



' throw Ids anuont aoddasphifli aroaod 

. tfae ntA, 

' Was not there a ecese? Jaek yelled 
like a deril, and straggled to free falmoclf 

• from Tom's grasp, and at tfae easoe time 
the €fOter feiluw uok to his beds and nan 
off as if he faad been pc^seseed. Tom 

I had his bands foil, for the fellow was 

1 strong and brawny, and Tom bad his 
mateh as be elongio him with one hand, 
and pommeled hum in hia iaoe with the 
ocfaer. 

At last he cleared himself of Tom,aiid 
took to his heels, with Tom ^er him— he 
running as only a man can run who h&s 
a dead man chasins him, dose to his 
heels. 

At last Tom came back puffing and 
blowing like a porpoise, and said, "ttalph, 
we iiave made a good nights work of it. 
We have got a horse and wagon for our 
pains. That fellow won't be back again, 
and he is welcome to depart after the 
rich mauling I gave him. 

We got into the wagon and drove home, 
and nobody ever came to ask us where we 
got it, or bow a man who had just been 
dug out of his grave could run so fast and 
and fight so well. 

SPRING BIELDS. 



BT L. B.*GOODMAir. 



Sweet birds of Spring ! from sunny climes, 
Where orange-groves are blooming, 

You have returned; your notes and rhymes 
With silver throats resuming: — 

Bat when shall she, whose every strain 

You emulated, come again? 

When Autnmn woods are fringed with gold, 
And Autumn winds were sighing, 

And you your tender farewells told 
While ferns and flowers were dying, 

She bade us all a fond adieu, 

And went away, sweet birds, with you. 

The lark is piping to the sun, 

The linnet loudly singing, 
The noisy jay has just begun 

To set the woodland ringing: — 
But she no more shall wake the Ijy 
That ushered in the golden day. 

Mount np, swt^et larkl* above the skies, 

Beyond the ken of mortals, 
And catch the morning melodies 

That float through Glory'^ portals; 
Then bring to me her new-born lay, 
bAnd I will wipe each tear away. 



•; 



THB GREAT CONDOR OF CALIFORNIA. 



17 



■4ife 



THK GREAT CONDOR OF CALI- 
FORNIA. 



BT ALBXANSIR 8. TATLOR. 



( Conimued from page 543.) 

One of these birds, killed a few days 
mip IB Cannel bay, near Monterey, a 
finead informs me, measured, inolading 
bi>sBt, eleven feet from tip to tin of wine. 
It is even possible that the olaest birds 
aspftMch in dimensions the Condor of 
Chili and Peru. It is not known to what 
mf^ they attain. Probably there are 
three or foor species of the Sarooramphus, 
in tbe territories before designated, which 
hmters have oonfoanded as being the 
same Inrd. The Condors range through- 
qui the Siena Nerada, and the Tulare 
and Sacramento plains. 

The historian of Sebastian Vizcaino's 
Calilbmia Voyage, in describing the coun- 
try and animals around Monterey, in De- 
cember, 1602, mentions, among other 
birde, the Vulture — doubtless meaning 
the Condor. This expedition disembarked 
at Monterey beach, and encamped, with 
thdr sick crews, under an encinal of oaks, 
where a small stream comes down from 
tiie Redoubt hill. SeTcral of these oaks 
are still standing, but the ^reat encinal, 
which corered the beautiful slopes of 
Monterey at that time, has been mostly 
dcnred off for firewood. On one of the 
graatle naasee on the site of this encamp- 
ment, may still be seen the holes made m 
the rocks by the Indians, for pounding 
their aeoms and grass seeds. 

Tbe site of this town, according to the 
above authority, was roamed over bjr an 
telonishtng variety of the animal king- 
don, asoet of which are recognizable at 
ibe present day. As the expraition stop- 
ped oo land nearly a month, they had 
ample time and opportunity to make care- 
ful observations. 

In tbe foregoing notes of the writer, 
some mistakes have occurred in reference 
Id tbe female of the Sarooramphus Cali- 
fomianus, from their infrequent appear- 
anee dnrine our former observations. On 
tbe 26th July, 1865, one of the female 
hifd^ was shot near the beach of our town, 
wbidi was the first instance wherein we 
bad tbe opportunity of comparing the 
two sexes together, finmi specimens killed 
witbin oor own direct knowledge. The 
of tbe bird was ascertained by dis- 
by onr friend, Dr. J. L. Ora, of 



The female has very distinct exterior 
features from those of the male bird. It 
appears in flyine to be considerably lar- 
ger than the male, yet this one weighed 
20 lbs., which is the usual weight of the 
other sex, as ascertuned from five speoi- 
mens. The entire upper exterior ot the 
female is of a dusky, brownish-black plu- 
mage and hue. The wings have a trian- 
gular white band underneath, which band 
18 mottled with blackish-brown spots, im- 
mediately over the wing bones ; the white 
band is five inches broad at mid-wing ; 
the feathers next to the shoulder-joint 
(pin feathers of wing near to tbe breast) 
are six in number, dashed blackish near 
the roots, and of a light salmon color to 
the ends, and are ten inches long. One 
of the vrings measures four feet three 
inches long, by eighteen inches broad in 
the middle ; it has seven outer wing feath- 
ers, the largest of which is two feet long. 
It has no exterior band of white feathers 
or white tips to the vrings, as in the male 
bird. 

The upper pluma^ of the back, tail 
and wines, is of shining^ dusky brownish 
black ; £at of the breast and belly is of 
a lighter cast, similar to those of the 
male. Besides the seven long wing feat h- 
ers, it has twenty-six inner ones on each 
wing. The tail feathers are fifteen inches 
long, and in number iwdve. From the 
outer or elbow wing joint, to end of wing 
feathers, is two feet and seven inches. 
From the beak to extremity of tail feath- 
ers, it measures four feet ; from socket of 
the neck on back to the vent, it is fifteen 
inches long. The circumference of the 
body and wings folded in, is about five 
feet. 

The color of the bill and beak is of 
blackish homy brown oolor ; their shape, 
size and other features, exclusive of color, 
is same as in the male bird ; the nostrils 
are oval and go through and through, 
(t. e.,you can see daylight through them,) 
and one-half an inch lone by i inch broad, 
and situated nearly halfway between tbe 
eyes and end of the beak; the nasal 
groove or line, but slightly defined, and 
about one inch in length from nostrils, 
and does not extend more than half-way 
to end of beak. The tongue and inside 
of mouth is similar to that of the male, 
and likewise colored yellowish. The 
tongue of both birds is serrated sharply 
downwards towards the gullet, while the 
roof of the mouth has hard spinous points 
inclining the opposite direction; which 



18 



miTOHIKQS' CALIFORKIA BIAQAZINS. 



enable the birds to bring their deglutini- 
zing and masticating powers into imfne- 
ditUe effect, as the focKi is thus quickly 
passed into the digestive organs, in the 
state of a comminuted, pulpy mass, like 
the "thrice chawed s<^'er" of a sailor, on 
short allowance of tobacco. 

Its head and neck is of a curious dusky, 
oopperlsh-ollye,blackish-brown color, and 
covered vnth a thick, furry dovni, or 
featherets of same color, looung like the 
nap of an old hat. This is continued 
down the neck to near its base. The head 
is six inches long, by two and a half inches 
breadth and depth. The skin imme- 
diately at base of bill is bare of dovni, as 
it is also around the eyes, which have a 
yellowish-olive circle enclosing the lids. 
The iris of the eye is of a greyish pink. 
The neck, from base of head to connection 
at the back bone, is thirteen inches long, 
and two and a half inches in diameter. 
The thigh, (as in the male,) is covered 
with feathers to kne^joint, and is two 
inches thick near the body — ^the le^ from 
thiehojoint to end of toe nails are nmeteen 
inches long — ^from knee-joint to end of 
olaws, ten inches; front of legs below 
knee, covered with scales colored black- 
ish, with yellowish rin^s ; under parts of 
dirty yellow ; the toot is six inches long; 
foot when spread radiates about 3 J inches 
and thickly corrugated on its lower sur- 
face. Upper part of toes is blackish; 
claws black, and never sharp in either 
sex. The features are similar in size and 
proportions to that of the male bird, only 
a little larger. 

The circumference of the body across 
the breast and inside of the wings, with 
the feathers on, is twenty-five inches ; ^e 
same parts of the bird when skinned 
measure twenty-two inches ; around the 
len8;th of the first wing bone (of the skele- 
tonj is thirteen inches long, and half an 
incQ in diameter ; the vertebras of the 
neck (skeleton) is seventeen and a h^ 
inches long, and one and a half inches in 
diameter. The head across tiie crown 
measures ten inches in circumference. 
The entire skeleton of the animal, when 
well dried, weighs only three |K>unds 
avoirdupois. The bones of the thigh are 
one-sixteenth of an inch thick; and ^e 
bones have very litUe marrow, but are 
well braced up with bony spoheg. The 
bones of the legs and irines are as hud 
as ivory, but very light The female bird 
described had but litUe of the musky 
bright yellow fat, over the breast and over 



lower entnuds, as was found in the male. 

We have never seen, in any work on 
Califomia, or its natural history, a descrip- 
tion of the female bird above described, 
and it seems that it has not been hereto- 
fore delineated in any work of a popular 
character. It is not as often seen as the 
male— twenty of the latter may be in 
sight, with only two or three of the oppo- 
site sex. The same feature obtains in 
these parts with the Cathartes or Zopi- 
lotes of this country, which also have a 
black head for the female bird, while the 
head of the male is of a bright red. 

Many of the Condors make their nests 
in the high mountains east and south of 
the Carmelo Valley, and also near Santa 
Cruz, and in the Santa Lucia Range, 
where they ma^ be seen at all seasons of 
the year, bnt m greater numbers from 
July to November. These huge creatures 
may often be seen fighting each other, 
over a carcase on the beach ; generally 
striking with their ontstretchM wings, 
and runninff along the ground Uke Uke 
common tun^ey buzzard, vrith the dolo- 
rous looks of a feathered Muggins. 

It is found extremely diffioiHt to pre* 
serve the colors of either bird, (of the 
head and neck,) as they exist in nature. 
In dried specimens, the bright lemon color 
of the head of the male is lost after a 
week's keeping. 

The Califomia Condor, may therefore 
be described generally as follows : 

Male: Wim bright rellow head and 
upper neck. Femau: With dark copper- 
isn-olive neck and head, covered with 
feathery down on head and most of the 
neck ; plumage brown black ; both birds 
about same weight; female appearing 
considerably larger than the male. 

The following are some new facts from 
a male specimen shot near Monterey, in 
July, 18o5, by one of our friends, which 
measured eight feet across the wings and 
breast, and weighed over 20 lbs. On dis- 
secting the animal, it was found to have 
an immense development of the internal 
viscera. The stomach contained first 
meat, and muscles with the sheU on — ^the 
shells in a half digested state ; it held on 
measurement ha^a ffoUon of water, — 
It has two gizzards, the upper one small 
as a chicken's, but the lower and l*r{K6r 
one four times the size of the first. &e 
large gizzard has a very singular appen- 
dage OT a bunch of long, stm bristles on 
the inside, mingled with hard warty ex- 
crescences. The inside of this gizzard is 



THB QRBAT CONDOR OF CALIFORNIA. 



19 



lioad very roughly after the fashion of 
eoane sand paper. The gut is six feet 
long; heart, liver, lungs and gall blad- 
der, Bame sise as those of a young pi^. 
The large giuard was filled with the hair 
ttf animals which the bird had eaten, and 
was about the capacity of four fluid 
pane—. The whole of Uiese Tiacera had 
■a abominable smell of musk. The meat 
of th0 animal though, is of a bright arte- 
rial red, and of very fine grain. 

Daring the early part of the present 
asootb, ^nly,) la^ quantities of sea 
UoBB have been killed on the southern 
€— to (br the oil ; the carcasses of these 
animais on the beach may be seen at 
timaa surroonded by hundreds of the Con- 
dor. A friend of ours informed us that 
be aaw a few days ago, as many as three 
baadred of these creatures near such 
fawting ground, within the distance of a 



loaoe. 
Tbe' 



▼otadtf of these birds is astonish- 
ing, and ia always noticed by obserring 
trtTelers ia California and the north Pa- 
cifie coontriee. This feature of its char- 
aeSer was noted by Lewis and Clark, the 
iral American travelers from the His- 
riaippi to the western Ocean. Thejr de- 
scribe a similar species of the Yulturidsa. 
A firiand of ours engaged in the cattle 
tnda, iafbrms us, that m going from the 
JGarion of Santa Clara towuds San Fran- 
daeo!, ia 1850, he accidentally dropped a 
quarter of fat beef from his cait, while a 
BMber of the Condor were in sight On 
dieeoveriag his loss, after a few minutes, 
he tamed baok and observed the Condor 
ia BOfl ibers which he estimated at over 
three bondred, hovering over and near 
hie leal beef. On coming up with it, he 
was aarprised to find that the fat and kid- 
asjs of tbe quarter, with all the inner 
■eal^ bad been completely cleaned off the 
bioea, and the piece had lost more than 
Ufito weight. 

A lai^ gnoly b«iog killed on the Sur 
ffanriMS la this county, some fifteen years 
aco, tiie Vaquero left the bear on the 
BM^ near the sea shore, to return to the 
aooaeb about three miles off, for assist- 
aaae to akin the animal. Before the 
bssdsoMa arrived back, which was in 
aboot two boars, a flock of Condors had 
tbe entire carcase of its flesh and 
kaviag nothing but tbe skin and 



Tbe asae eoatom of capture and sport, 
wbidi the foregoing writers mention as 
ptaelieedia Peru and Chili, was followed 



in places by the Rancheros and Yaqueros 
of California, with the Condors of the 
country, and may even to this day. A 
Yaquero gets into the inside of a fresh 
hide, with the carcase of the recently 
killed animal near by, and being armed 
with a covering over the hand, seizes the 
bird by the feet, whilst he is partly 
goreed ; or he sets the noose of a lasso of 
small hide rope, with a choice tit-bit in 
the centre, and as soon as the Condor 
" puts his foot in it," the enemy hauls his 
trap in quickly, and immediately gets a 
purchase around some stick, or the beasts 
noms ; the better to secure his prise from 
escaping, or from its attacking any in- 
cautious looker-on, with its formidable 
beak and wings. The Rancheros some- 
times pit them apainst bears and dogs, or 
turn a small enofosure into an extempore 
cock-pit, vrith eagles for combatants. We 
have never had the opportunity of wit- 
gessing any of these nghts between the 
Ornithological Gladiators. 

It will be seen that the descrip- 
tion of the Condor of South America, 
agrees very materially with the descrip- 
tion we have made of the Condor of Cid- 
ifomia. It is probable that our species 
of this family, is also found in parts of 
Mexico, and Central and South America, 
where it has been confounded with tiie 
larger bird which has so long been the 
marvellous wonder of traveler8,but which 
notone of them, within the narrow bounds 
of our literary reconnoissance,have as yet 
thoroughly and clearly depicted as to 
sexes, or as to species. It is nimbly prob- 
able that the Peruvian Condor is also an 
occasional risitor of the arid districts, 
and the coasts of tbe Pacific south of 
Santa Barbara and to Acapuloo, and 
eastward to the Tulare country andTijon 
Pass, and as Charles Bonaparte suggests, 
also to the table lands of Mexico and 
Central America. The species which is 
asserted to be found near Los Angelos, 
and has a caruncle on the head, is said 
to be considerably larger than the one we 
attempt to delineate. We have never 
been able to procure a specimen, and con- 
clude there must be some mistake about 
it. 

A few days ago we got within about 
seventy yards of a number of the male 
and female Condor. They were feeding 
on the carcase of a whale on the sea 
shore, and must have been gorged, as we 
could make out every outer feature of 
both eezee with distinctness, except that 



20 



HUTCHINGS' CALI70RNIA UAQAZDX^. 



the color of the head and neck of the 
male appeared of an orange color instead 
of a bright lemon. When it ia dead, it is 
certainly of the latter color, but it very 
MOon fades, and the color is scarcely pre- 
seryable in specimens dried. The female 
appeared when standing upright, as per- 
fectly black : glossy brown black as the 
black cat of the necromantic alchemist 
Dr. Wotnmahollam — ^from the beak to 
the end of his tail feathers he was in 
sombre mourning. We got within thirty 
yards of the male, but he kept his posi- 
tion on a pine tree hard by, without mo- 
ving more than his head in great anxiety ; 
he appeared incapable of flight. After 
examining him very carefully, we left 
him to enjoy his gluttonous dignity. All 
the noise we made tramping around 
in the bushes and dry sticks was not suf- 
ficient to frighten him from his roost. 
They are usually exceedingly scarey of 
travelers and intruders. Sometimes they 
make a smothered and squeaking noise 
or hiss, but they are generally mute. 
The color of the iris of the eye, may be 
influenced, (like the neck skin of the male 
of a bright orange, and then of a very 
light orange or lemon, ) from its being 
gorged with its comminuted flesh food, 
which must send the blood flushing into 
all its extremities — or when it is empty, 
ur famishing of food. 

Dr. Canfield, a resident of our town, 
tells me that during his sojourn in the 
mountains of our county on the line of the 
San Benito river, he has seen as mnnj as 
one hundred and fifty condors at one time 
and place, in the vicinity of antelopes he 
had killed, — he invariably observed that 
they sighted their prey, or Jlrst came to 
Vie carcase from the leeward ; he has often 
noted this feature of its habits durine his 
camp life there of some three years durar 
tion. TheCondors and Turkey Buzzards 
often feed together over the same carcase, 
and generally in such cases do some fight- 
ing and biting— they may sometimes be 
seen soaring and circling together in the 
air. Dt. S. Haley, who has traveled a 
great deal in Nicaragua and Western 
Mexico,on the Pacific,to Panama, informs 
me that the California Condor is found in 
all those countries. 

In January, 1858, a large Condor was 
killed by Mr. S. B. Wright, near St Hel- 
ena, in Napa County, while flying off 
with a nine pound hare it had kuled. 
The bird measured fourteen feet from tip 
to tip of wings. The Alia has one of the 



tail feathers in its oiEce, that meaaures 
twenty-six inehcs in length. This is the 
largest specimen I have yet heard of and 
must have been a very old bird. [ See 
" Alta CaUf.'' p., 8, Jany. 1858.] 

A male bird was killed near the Car- 
mel Quarries last year by one of our 
friends, which measored twelve feet acro^a 
the wings, and we have elsewhere noted 
one measuring eleven feet. 

The Condor is often killed by feeding 
on animals, such as bears and cattle,when 
poisoned with Strichnine by the Ranch- 
eros — ^the poisoned meat kills them read- 
ily. The rancheros have very little fear 
in California of their depredations on 
young cattle and stock, tnough it has 
been known within my knowledge for 
five or six Condors to attack a youn^ calf, 
separate it from its mother, and kill it ; 
the Califomians also say they are often 
known to kill lambs, hares and rabbits. 
But the cattle owners here have no such 
dread of them as the Haciendados of 
Chili have of the Southern Condor. 

We think continued observations on 
these two species of Condor, will prove, 
that their natural food is dead meat or 
fish, or wounded animals they kill ; but 
that they never eat spoiled, tainted, or 
putrid animal matter, like theCathartes, 
until compelled by great hunger and fast- 
ing — being intermediate in their habits 
and characteristics to the Eagles and 
Vultures. 

The male bird at times, as I have seen, 
has presented a most gallant and dandi- 
fied appearance. This may have been 
when bis craw was empty — when youth 
favored him, and his amorous faculties 
were in inflorescence. Certain it is we 
have seen him standing and looking as 
clean, handsome and black, as a young 
undertaker about to do the honors to his 
first burial. 

* Audubon in his American Oronitho- 
logical Biography — £dinburgh-15th vol. 
1839, pays of the California Condor, on 
page 241: — 

*'Dr. Townsend informs me that the 
California Vulture inhabits the region of 
the Columbia river, to the distance of 
500 miles from its month, and is most 
abundant in spring, at which season it 
feeds on the dead salmon that are thrown 
upon the shores in great numbers. It is 
also met with near the Indian villages, 
being attracted by the offal of the fish 

m ote mftd« Mandi tO, 18W. 



THE QREAT CONDOR OF CALIFORNIA. 



21 




tkrown ftfoand their habitationB. It aa- 
memMm with Cathartes Crasa, bat is 
canlj distinguished from that species in 
fli|^ht, both hj its greater siie, and the 
Bore abmpt carratore of its wing, ( ex- 
aeUy so, as obeerred in Califomia, Indi- 
ana whose obsenrations may generally be 
depended opon, say that it ascertains the 
preeence of food solely by its power of 
Timoo, thoB oorroborating your own re- 
marks on the Vulture tribe generally. 
On the upper waters of the Columbia the 
fish intended for winter store are usually 
deposited in huts made of the branches 
of trees interlaced. I have frequently 
the Ravens attempt to effect a lodge- 
it in these deposits, but have never 
known the Vulture, although numerous 
in tiie ficinity, to be engaged this way. 
I have never seen the e^ of the Califor^ 
Bin Vulture. The Indians of the Colum- 
bia, say that it breeds on the ground, 
fixing its nest in swamps under &e pine 
forests, chiefly in the Alpine country. 
The Willamet Mountains, 70 or 80 miles 
soath of the Columbia, are said to be its 
&vorite plaees of resort It is seen on 
the Coliimbia only in summer, appearing 
sboat the 1st of June, and returning prob- 
ably to the Mountains about the end of 
August. It is particularly attached to 
the vicinitT of cascades and falls, being 
sttiacied bv the great number of dead 
sslmon. Thither therefore resort all the 
vadean birds of the oountry — the Vul- 
tures, Turkey Bnisards and Ravens. — 
The Califomia Vultures cannot however, 
be eallad a plentiful species, as even in 
the situations mentioned it is rare to see 
more than two or three at a time, and 
these so shy ss not to allow an approach 
to within one hundred yards, unless by 
stnUamn.^ Although i have frequently 
seen this bird, I have never heard it ut- 
ter any sound. The eggs I have never 
seen, nor have I had any account of them 
that I oould depend upon. The color of 
the eye is dark nasel — I have never heard 
of their attacking living animals. Their 
fiBod while on the Colnmbiai $* fish,almost 
cxelnsively, as this food is always found 
in ^reat abundance near the falls and 
raptd»— they slso feed on dead animals. 
Near Fort Vancouver I saw two feeding 
on the carcase of a pig. In walking they 
resemble a turkey, strutting over the 
groond with great dignity ; but this die- 
nity is oecasbnally lost sight of, especiiu- 
Iv when two are striving to reach a dead 
ish, which has jnst bean oast upon the 



shore— the stately walk then degenerates 
into a clumsy sort of hopping canter, 
which is anything but graceful. When 
about to rise, they always hop or run for 
several yards, in order to give an impe- 
tus to their heavy body ; in this respect 
resembling the Condor of South America 
whose weU known habit, enables it to be 
easily taken in a pen by the Spaniard — 
a plan I shall try, if I ever return to the 
Columbia, as I am satisfied it would be 
succe9sful." 

Audubon continues, "Mr. David Doug- 
las has published the following account 
in the 4th vol. of the London Zoological 
Journal. The length of this bird is 56 
inches ; the measure around the body 40 
inches ; weight 25 to 36 lbs., [probably 
old birds after gorging--A. S. T. 1859] 
beak 3} inches long, of bright glossy yel- 
low — head 9 inches round, deep orange, 
with a few short scattered feathers on 
the forepart of the beak — Iris pale red, 
pupil light green — neck 11 incnes long, 
9 inches round, of a changesble color, 
brownish yellow with blue tints — body 
24 inches long, black or slightly brown. 
Collar and breast feathers, lanceolate, 
decomposed, white on the outside near 
the points. Quills 34, the third longest 
—extent between the tips of the wings, 
9 feet 3 inches — under coverts white- 
upper ooverts white at the points. Tarsi 
4 f th inches lon^, bluish black, claws 
black, blunt, having little curvature. — 
Tail of fourieen feathers [we could only 
find 12--A. 8. T.] — square at the ends 
and 15 inches lon^. In plumage both 
uxe» are alike : in sise the female is some- 
what larger! [Douglas is incorrect about 
the plumage— the color of head, neck and 
plumage appearance of the female, are 
very evident in difference from those of 
the male bird— A. S. T. 1859.1 

*' These gigantic birds which represent 
the Condor in the northern hemisphere, 
are common along the coast of California 
but are never seen (A. S. T.) beyond the 
woody parts of the country. I have met 
with them as far to the north as 49^ N. 
Lat., in the summer and autumn months, 
but nowhere so abundant as between the 
sea and the rapids on the Columbia riv- 
er. They build their nests in the most 
secret and impenetrable parts of the pine 
forests, invariably selecting the loftiest 
trees that overhang precipices, on the 
deepest and least accessible parts of the 
Mountain Valleys. The nest is large, 
oomposed of strong, thorny twigs and 



22 



HDTCmNOS' CAinORNIA XAGAZINK. 



pvsa, in ererf waj aiiiukr to that of die 
Eagle tribe, oat more alorenly eonstnie- 
ted. The same pair reeorta for aereral 
jeaiv to the same neet, bestowing little 
trouble or attention in repairing it. — 
Eggs two, neaiij spherical, about the 
sizeof aeooeeegg,aodjW 62adl; (A.S.T.) 
Period oi incubation 29 or Sldajs — thej 
hatch generally about the first of June. 
The Toung are eoTcred with thick white- 
ish down and are incapable of leaving 
the nest until the fifth or nxth week. 
Food, carrion, dead fish, or other dcHui 
animal matter. In no instance will they 
attack any liTtng animal unless wounded 
and unable to walk. Their senses of 
smelling and seeing are remarkably keen. 
In searching for prey they soar to a very 
great altitude, and when they discover a 
wounded deer or other animal they follow 
its track, and when it sinks precipitately 
descend on their object. Although only 
one is at first seen occnpring the carcase, 
few minutes elapse berore the prey is 
surrounded by great numbers, and it is 
then devoured to a skeleton within an 
hour even, though it be one of the larger 
animals, as the Elk or horse. Their vo- 
racity is almost unsatiable, and they are 
extremely ungenerous, suffering no other 
animal to approack them while feeding. 
After eating tney become so sluggish and 
indolent as to remain in the same place 
un.til urged by huneer to go in quest of 
snother repast. At such times they 
perch on decayed trees with their head 
so much retracted as to be with difficul- 
ty observed through the long, loose feath- 
ers of the collar — the wings at the same 
time hang down over the feet. This posi- 
tion they invariably preserve in oewy 
mornings or after the rains. Except after 
eating or while protecting their nest^ they 
are so excessively wary, that the hunter 
can scarcely even approach sufficiently 
near even for buckshot to take effect upon 
them, the fullness of the plumage affor- 
ding them a double chance of escaping 
uninjured. Their flight is slow, steady, 
and particularly graceful ; gliding along 
with scarcely any apparent motion of the 
wings, the tips of which are curved up- 
ward in flying. Preceding hurricanes, 
or thunder storms, they are seen most 
numerous and soar the highest The 
quills are used by hunters as tubes for 
tobacco pipes. Specimens, male and fe- 
male, of^ tnis truly interesting bird whieh 
I shot (about 182^ ,) in Lat. 45° 3(K l^' 
—Long. 122*^ 3^ 12^^ were lately presen- 



ted to the London 
whoee Mnaeomtiiey 

oenosifeBda 



Soct( 



are now 



99 



oete^, in 
caientlly 



next.] 



THOUGH ABSENT, TET NEAR. 

BT W. H. D. 

Though fitr spart, we still are near, 

Through that most sacred tie, 
A bliss, a memory ever dear, 

A love that cannot die ; 
My thoughts tend ever to thy home, 

And from that distant shrine, 
A voice I hear where'er I roam, 

Besponding unto mine. 

What bliss filled up the circling hours. 

When thee I fondly prest, 
Within Love's fragrant roseate bowers, 

Unto my raptured breast ; 
A rapture thrilling, ever dear. 

From that low whispered vow. 
Which through all time still echoing dear 

Is all triumphant now. 

Then let our true and constent fiuth. 

By grief and absence tried. 
Ever unchanging unto death, 

Within our hearts abide \ 
And if upon the shores of Time, 

'Tis not our fiite to meet, — 
We shall in Heaven's eternal clime, 

With purer joys replete. 
Emory' 9 Bar^ Fraser River, B. (7., 1 



June, 1859. 



OUR THOUGHTS. 



BT LVNA. 



Thoughto might be called the light- 
nings of the mind, for, when left to pas- 
sion's impetuous sway, they are as un- 
governable and destructive as the unohain- 
ed thunder-bolt, but when brought under 
the control of reason, become as the 
electric telegraph, flashing forth intelli- 
gence to every part of the earth. 

From thoughto arise convictions, and 
from convictions principles are formed, 
and these produce actions, the result of 
which is happinesi or misery, in proper- 



OUR THOUGHTS. 



tioB M imtli or errmr, good or eril pro* 
4omhuited in their incipieni stages of 
thoeghi. Modi therefore depends npcrn 
right thinking M being the original source 
of ersty erime and every virtae. 

SfaMO man has become free to think for 
himself npoB ererj sabjectymany theories 
hive been adranced for the improvement 
tad flie amelioration of the human race 
nmneh so^ thaitiiis has been called, "an 
igs of theories." And, why is it? Be- 
etose those who haye exercised their 
nssoning powers haye come to the logi- 
cal soodnsioQ that minds of like abilities 
•ad faeolties of obeenration and the same 
powers of inyeatigation, have equal ohan- 
eat of knowing what is troth. The con- 
teqacBoe i% many minds are open to 
MBvietion and can discern between tnith 
•ad error, yet, are not fblly persnaded 
•pen the most momentoas subject of all, 
tke immorial destiny of man; and all 
tkoaghls or actions, not haying thb glo- 
rious end in yiew, are like trees that 
Uosmm, but bear no fruit. 

To the doee obseryer, there is much 
feed for thoQi^t, since he finds that a 
bowMge of books does not make him 
•eqoaiated with men, and that which is 
ttOed theft, when applied to the poor, is 
ctOed fay a mneh milder term when ap- 
plisd to the rich, and that those who 
hoast ef their yirtuons principles have 
<Am less foar of Ood than of the eyes of 
tke world; and he seea many trodden 
^ova iaio the depths of yiee and degra- 
kAem, for less sins and follies than in 
«th«i are only looked upon as mere pee- 
•iilloes. 

The mind is bewildered by the incon- 
Sniities met with on erery hand, and it 
M only after nmeh reflection, that just 
coB^eaoos can be formed of what is 
right, and what is wrong: and, were it 
Mt for the tight of rerelation, man neyer 
voeld haye been able to haye solyed the 
gtsat mjstery of life. 

It ia in the aecret chambers of thoaght 



that spirit holds c(mimunion with spirit; 
and here, nature speaks to the soul in the 
unwritten language of harmony. Sweet 
companions of solitude are pleasant 
thoughts; they seem to lead us insensi- 
bly to the yery fountain of goodness, and 
to "lift the shadows from our waked 
spirits,'' and reyeal to us the secret work- 
ings of Nature's eternal laws, until we 
feel as if standing in the nnyeiled pres- 
ence of the Infinite. 

£yil thoughts should neyer be admit- 
sed into this sanctuary of the mind,andnot 
allowed to desecrate this inner temple 
where Qod may dwell. 

But oultiyate beautiful,loying thoughts, 
which shall be a living fountain of joy 
foreyer, filling with gladness the hearts 
of all who come within its influence. 

Thoughts are immortal, they will neyer 
die, and we shall meet them again upon 
eternity's far off shore, either as forming 
part in the great anthem of uniyersal 
harmony, or, as part of that unholy difr> 
cord which can neyer enter Heayen. 

When man shall haye put on charity, 
the highest attribute of his nature, then 
will it be proclaimed as the end of human 
perfection that he " thinketh no eyil. 



tf 



THB SAILOIl BOY'S DEATH. 

BT ▲ NIW COHTBIBCTOB. 

" htkj me to rest in the ocean wave, 
It has been my home, let it be my graye ; 
Let the restless surges with solemn roar, 
Peal my funeral dirges forevermore. 
My spirit has ever been wild and free, 
Baiy me deep in the cbainless sea." 
" Raise me up on deck," the sufferer said. 
Rough forms stood round his dying bed — 
*Take mj parting words and my lost farewell 
To the home where my brother and sister 
dwelL 

Tell my younger brother, a noble youth, 
With an opea brow and a heart of truth, 
That my dying blessing rests on his head, 
He must take the place of his brother dead ; 



24 



HUTCHINQS' OAUFORMA MAGAZINB. 



Let him be like me, a sailor free, 

And seek his home on the deep blue sea. 

M7 little sister, whose eyes of blue, 
Reveal the depths of her soul to yiew, [tears, 
She will mingle her own with my mother's 
Kay God watch over her innocent years. 

There is another," his voice was low^ [slow, 
His eye grew dim and his pulse throbbed 
" There is another, whose gentle eye, [bye,' 
Was dimmed with tears, as she said * good 
< Hy mother, my mother," he said no more, 
The voyage of the sailor youth was o'er. 

As the sun rose up from the placid sea, 
Reposing in bright tranquility, 
A prayer was breathed, a service read, 
O'er the shrouded form of the sailor dead,- 
A sullen sound of the parting wave, 
He sank consigned to an ocean grave. 

THJB MANIAC, 
A True Story of San Francisco in IS4Q, 

BY WILLIAM D. C. 



On the 4th day of June, eighteen hun- 
dred and forty-nine, I arrived in the bay 
of San Francisoo, and landed somewhere in 
the vicinity of Jackson street wharf, and 
proceeded from there to the corner of 
Kearny and Jackson streets to a smaU 
place then called an ''Hotel.'' If you 
were here, then, reader, you can remem- 
ber that the water came nearly up to 
Kearny 8treet,8o that I had not far to walk 
or to have my baggage taken ; bat, short 
as was the distance, the man that had 
my luggage in charge only asked twenty 
dollars for the trouble, and remarked 
that he considered that very cheap — ^well, 
it was cheap. After having been shown 
to my room by an old Caballero, I made 
use of some soap and water, and putting 
on a dean camisa de hombre, I started 
for the street. 

As I looked my door and dropped the 
key in my pocket the Landlord, came, as 
he said, " to see how I gotalong"-inform- 
ing me at the same time that if I would 



leave my key hie vrould have my tranka 
and room placed in <»der. " Waa'nt he 
canning?'' I thanked him for his kind- 
ness, but informed him that I considered 
my room in as good order as I desired. 

" Oh 1 oh 1 well, very well — so mnoh 
the less work of coarse. Ha 1 ha 1 ha I" 

"Yes," I said, " of ooaree-of coarse." 

"I presume you are going to see the 
sights now," said he, trying to continue 
the conversation. 

" Yes sir," said I, " I am, " and moved 
away, leaving the honorable gentleman 
standing in the hall, thinking no doubt 
that I was an "impudent fellow." 

Harrying to Kearny street, I walked 
towards the Plasa, and taking from my 
pocket a bundle of letters,! glanced over 
them, al the same time counting the num- 
ber, as I soliloquized, " well, here's ten 
letters, five of them are letters of intro- 
duction, and the other five for persons I 
shall probably never find, but here goes. 
The first I find is for Col S— ^, of the 
New York volunters, they told me his 
o£5ce was on the Plasa. 

Thus musing I approached the " Old 
Adobe," a building standing on the wes- 
tern side of the Plaza, exactly where the 
Hall of Records now stands. Looking 
over the names on the signs I noticed — 

Col. J. D. S . To my great delight 

I found the Col. sitting in his old arm 
chair, and talking to a beautiful young 
woman; I had but a glimpse of her, ( as 
she drew a veil over her face when I en- 
tered,) bat that glimpse was enough — I 
saw to my astonishment that she was an 
American — I approached the Col. and 
handed him my letter. He opened it and 
glanced over its oontents. 

" Are you Samuel Bristol f" said he. 

" I am, sir." 

" Well, my son, I'm happy to see you, 
but being very busy, just now, I vnll be 
obliged to you if you will call again. " 

" Very well, sir, " I replied, " I'll oaU 
again this afternoon. " 



THE MANIAC. 



25 



** Tcry weUr-bat alay, won't yon oome 

■ad take dinner with me this eyeningf 

" Thank you, CoL, I will. " 

**I liye on Broadway near Dopont 

in a large hrown house, you can't 

it" 

"Thank yon air, I'll come. Qood day 



P9 



And I mored away, leaying my new 
acquaintance to continue his conversation 
with the fiur confidante I had just left 
witk him. As I walkedaoross the Plasa 
say Ihooghtarererted to the young nymph 
I had JQst left in the Ool's. office. It 
■saniiid strange, aye, even mysterious, to 
see this young woman in hia office and 
•ciUalao. 

** Strange I strangel" muttered I as I 
moff<ad OB, ** how TSty strange ; hut by 
jora, she is handsome; I wonder who she 
is. Thars is something mysterious about 
this ; — but pshaw, I have'nt been here a 
day yet» and am beginning to lay my 
plans already. " I moTcd on some dis- 
fiirther when I ran against some 
for being thoughtful and agitated 
I did nol look up. 

** Halloa here, where are you running 
tof " asked the person I had so rudely and 
■neoasBionsly assaulted. The yoice rous- 
ed aae firom my reTerie,when I looked up, 
andalarted with joy as I beheld the spea- 
ksr. 

""Ika Tripp 1 why, old fellow, how are 
ysat" 

''Whalt" he said, starting, "Sam,are 
ysu heret in Califomial why I hardly 
yon, how are you t " 

This eooTersation took place in much 
I than I haye taken to relate il 
I had found ny oldest and one of my 
dearcat and best friends. I asked him 
iHkithar he was bonnd-and recoiled with 
hotror al his answer,— *'To the Hall, 
WadUngtoD Hall, a gpunUing house. " 

Ike saw thai I was astonished, and in- 
fnffiad BM thai every one in the city al- 
taadedsneh plaeea. After an earnest en- 



treaty, I yielded and went with him. — 
(Washington Hall, reader, stood about 
where the " Louisiana " now stands, and 
then was next door to the AUa office.) I 
had never gambled for a cent in my Ufe, 
but here I was tempted, and yielded ; 
and as a rich father had amply supplied 
my purse, I placed twenty-five ounces on 
the "Black spot" and won, — again I pla- 
ced fifty ounces on the same, and lo 1 1 
lost; I did not bet the next time ; but Ike 
whispered in my ear, " do not give up." 
So I placed one hundred ounces on the 
black spot again, and won. Feeling extra- 
ordinary ricA, I concluded to leave the hall, 
and did so, in company with Ike. 

" Tour'e a lucky dog Sam, " said my 
comrade as soon as we were once more in 
the street. 

*' And are yon not» Isaac, alsof" I asked. 

*' Yes — ^yes, I've won about eight hund- 
red dollars." 

We moved on across the Plasa and 
from thence proceeded to different parts 
of the city. At last we brought up at 
our boarding place, (for I found my fHend 
boarded in the same shanty that I had 
chosen.) 

We proceeded to the bar and " smiled," 
and then moved up stairs, to dine. As 
we sat eating, I gased eagerly about me 
to try if I could see any familiar faces, 
but none met the glance of my searching 
eyes. We ate our dinner in silence, and not 
a word passed between my oomrade and 
myself. My attention was attracted by 
his heaving a sighonce now and then, but I 
sud nothing to him until we had finished 
our meal, when I asked him where he 
spent his evenings. 

" WeU, " said he, ** to^iight I am going 
to Washington Hall, as there is going to 
be a grand ball there to-night — ^won't you 

go?" 

**That Washington Hall I There he goes 
again I" thought I, " but never mind, he 
is in California. " 

"Yes, " said I,aloud, "I'U go with you. 



ft 



26 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



"Very well, meet me at nine o'clock." 

These were the last words that passed 
between us, as I moved to my room to 
dress for the Col's., and be, I presume to 
Washington Hall. Reader, perhaps yon 
will think it stiange that I was going to 
eat another dinner,bat I had my reasons^ 
and what I had previoasly eaten was but 
a trifle, for I expected something extraor- 
dinary at Col. S s, and such indeed 

did I find. All the delicacies of the 
season were on his table, and I quite for- 
got that I had taken a previous though 
an early dinner. After we had partaken 
of the sumptuous repast, we proceeded 
into a well furnished room, and the CoL 
kept me busy answering his numerous 
questions, relative to my friends and his, 
in the States. Neither did the venerable 
old man fail to give me some good advice. 

" Samuel," said he '*if you do not place 
yourself on guard, you will fall in with 
some young men, who are anything but 
good companions for you. A young man 
who has such motives as I am led to be- 
lieve you have, (from my limg aoquaintanoe 
with your relations in the East ) should 
be very careful with whom he associates 
in this country ; many young men who 
have, and will come here, will be led into 
the gamUing houses in this oity,and thus 
be ruined. A man that ean resist all 
these temptations, has strong principles 
to be glided by, and a strong detormina* 
tion, I hope to see this in you for your 
father's si^e as well as your own.^' 

I remained at the Col's, until a few 
minutes befote nine ; when I took my de- 
parture, to meet my old oompanion. As 
I moved rapidly through Dupont street I 
perceived a female but a short distance 
ahead of me, who seemed to be walking 
with nearly the same velocity that I was; 
I immediately quickened my pace, and 
when witiiin four feet of my unknown 
firiend, she tamed around to look at me 
(as I supposed) but having a very thick 
veil on, I could not get a glance at her 



fdatores. She turned down Washington 
street, and to my astonishment, entered 
Washington Hall. 

I noticed the color of her dress, in or^ 
der that I might know her when I met 
her "a la hal." "By Jove, " muttered I, 
as I proceeded to my lodgings, " I've 
^spotted you,' my little seftorita, and if i 
do not know you when I see you again, 
then I am blind." 

In a few minutes I arrived at the 
"shanty" and wenttoTripp's room where 
I found him dressing himself fer the 
ball, I related to him my adventures 
since I had left him, and he promised to 
inform me who the "little woman I had 
seen" was, as he said that he " was ac- 
quainted with all the women in town.'' 

I took his word for it, and as soon as 
he was ready we proceeded to Washing* 
ton hall; how differently that room looked 
after I had won twelve hundred dollars, 
in not five hours before. Then it was 
crowded with men eager to snateh up 
what they might win, to waste in various 
ways,butnow itwasfuUof thesweetfaoee 
of the young Mexican girla— then the 
principal female inhabitante of our city. 
My ocMupanion introduced me to many 
of the most beautiful present, with whom 
I had longed to have 9bUie<k4eU^ and 
a dance, at least for once. About twelve 
o'clock I saw my lady friend with tke 
grem dress enter, (this was the one I had 
seen on Dupont street; ) I immediately 
sought some one to introduce me, which 
was done by a young Spaniard by the 
name of Gonzales. In her face I ifeoo^ 
nised the person I had seen in Ool. S — s 
offioe in the morning. I conversed irith 
her some time, and soon discovered that 
I had known her in other Stotes, but the 
knowledge I had of her there was but 
littie. Oh 1 how she was changed \ She 
was pale and languid,and I saw thai some 
heavy burden was on her mind. I en- 
gaged her for the Spanish walta, snd 
when we had finished, I left her with 



THE MANIAC. 



27 



GoBsalea^ lo March for my friend Isaao. 
I hunted the room high and low, bat he 
was nowhere to be found. At last I en- 
tered the ante room where we had left oar 
eoata and hats, and there I saw him seft- 
ted in an arm chair, in the comer, with 
his head leaning on his hand. 

** Halloa,Ike," sud I, slapping him on 
the abovlder, '^hat are jon doing here.'' 
He rmiaed his head slowly and looked me 
siratghlin theftoe— 

OhI that look. God of heaten shall I 
ever forget it? His eyes were half open- 
ed, his Cmc pale and much agitated. He 
rounded me more of a man on the verge 
of death than aoght else I can imagine. 
la laet I thought he was dying, until he 
•poke dios, slowly: — 

** Sam — Samuel— do-*yoa — ^know-iHio 
y o n we r e dancing with." 

''No— Ike, no— tell me--qaick! ** 

"It was Martha, Martha — ^my misera- 
ble, forsaken wife.'' 

^ Whall what t can this be true?" 

me home. 111 tell yon more 



f» 



1 placed him in a cart, had him taken 
home.and pat in bed. I then returned 
to the hall to tell Martha Tripp what I 
had seen. I met her at the door as she 
was jast coming oat 

** Where are you going, Martha?" I en- 
quired. 

*" 111 be back in a minute, Samuel." 

"^el], I've got something of great im- 
portance to tell yon, and it must be told 
ia private." 

**WeIl, Vm going home in a minute, 
cone with me, and then you can tell me, 
if it ie 80 important." 

**Jb« m«mile" she was ready and I 
went with her. In a short llftoen minutes 
we airiTed at oar destination. We en- 
tsied a wdl famished room in a small 
hoose on Dupont street, and when I was 
Mated I began to question her about her 



**I never was married,! tell you." 



"Oh I Matty, but you have been miir- 
ried; did you ever know a man by the 
name of Isaac Tripp." She started to 
her feet, and with her beautiful black 
eyes, stared wildly at me— then with a 
wild cry she fell at my feet I raised her 
in my arms and gased eagerly in her face. 
Afler a pause she opened her eyes slowly, 
and muttered: — 

''Isaac, Isaac, I forgive yon — ^your 
Matty—- di-es." As she said this her head 
fell back and she expired. As I examined 
her body,I found a portndt of Tripp and 
some other ornaments with his name on 
them. By her side lay a dagger with 
which she had just stabbed herself. 

I went immediately to Tripps room and 
found him with a raging fever. He turn* 
ed in his bed,and looked up in my face. 

" Samuel," said he," I married Martha 
three months after I left the quiet city of 
Hartford. We lived in New Tork for 
three years, in what I might call extreme 
felicity. We were very happy — if any- 
thing move than happy. Tou remember 
perhaps my often expressing my hatred 
for children" — "yes — ^yes— I know yoa 
have"-" therefore I never had any. Well,I 
had occasion to leave my wife for eighteen 
months, during which time I traveled in 
Europe. My business would not permit 
me to retam sooner. At laet I did return 
— I proceeded to my home, but it was de* 
sorted — my wife had gone, but heaven 
only knew where. One dny a woman 
sought me in my own private room. With 
her, she carried a child; that woman 
was fp^ wife. She knelt down and beg^ 
ged me to pardon her-to forgive her wick- 
edness. She told me she*was forced to a 
life of shame for a liring, and begged me 
to take her, as my servant— not as my 
wife. But, Samuel, I refused ; could I 
have done aught else? You will answer 
no! I bade her begone, and let me never 
see her face again. This you see, has 
been the cause of my misery— but tell me 
where is she." 



28 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE, 



" Tripp," said I, "she is dead— I told 
her that you were in the oitj, and she 
stabbed herself." 

He did not say a word to this, but fell 
exhausted in his bed. I watched with 
him all that night,and I saw the next day 
that his fever was increasing — I sent for 
a physician, but he said the man was go- 
ing mad fast. Frequently, while we were 
conversing, he would yell and tear his 
hair. Two days afcer Martha had died 
he called me in a whisper to his side: — 

" Look, Samuel," said he, his eyes staiv 
ting from their sockets, " look, don't you 
see those fearful eyes, there, in front of 
me, they are Martha's-— look! lookl she 
is coming nearer,to strike me. Oh I save 
me — save me." Here he threw his arms 
around my neck, and laid his head upon 
my shoulder. He raised it in a short 
time, and I perceived he was weeping. — 
Suddenly he stopped crying,and yelled as 
loud as was possible: — 

"HelpI help! murder! murder! Martha! 
don't! I forgive you. Oh! Samuel,Samuel, 
nearer, nearer, her hand is near me, look 
at it! look, it comes! Oh! it grasps me— 
tighter — -murder — help! mur — ^mur!" — 
Gasping and stru^ling to loosen himself 
from his supposed enemy, his spirit pass- 
ed away into another world. 

This was my first adventure in San 
Francisco, if an adventure I may call it, 
and may God grant that I may never wit- 
ness such a one again. 

THE SIGNING OP THE DBCLARATION 
OF INDBPBNDBNCB, JULY 4th, 1116. 

BT O. T. SPBOAT. 



Why stand they in that lofty hall ? 

They of the noble meln I 
Hen of high heart, and eagle eye, 

Snch as earth hath not seen ! 
Courage, and faith, and manly thought, 

Sit, stamped on every brow — 
As if each of them were a king 

Before whom realms might bow I 



High hearted men ; great souls and true, 

Are with them gathered there. 
Men in the glory of their youth, 

And with the silver hair. 
They of rare wit, and lofty speech. 

And deep scholastic lore — 
These were the men who ruled the world. 

In the stormy days of yore. 

What do they ? Wherefore have they come 

Within these halls to day? 
Ye who have seen your country bleed. 

Great patriots ! ye can say 1 
Not for the wealth of all the world, 

Not for the crowns of kings ; 
Not for the lofty boon of fame, 

Nor all the pomp it brings. 

Not these I Oh, no 1 A mighty voice, 

Had struck each startled ear; [earth, 
And shook the heavens, and swayed the 

And filled weak hearts with fear. 
To them it came with trumpet tone. 

High echoing oer the sea ; 
And it tfaid to every waiting soul, 

" Arise I be strong I be free ! " 

They heard it — ^heard it I all arose — 

Those men of mighty heart 1 
They rose, and in that temple stood, 

Each with a hero's part. 
They laid them on the altar there — 

.Their home, their lives, their blood I 
They rose, and stood erect and fair 

E'en in the face of God I 

Earth saw them 1 and a song went up, 

From every land and sea ; 
Heaven saw them 1 and it answered back 

The anthem of the free. 
The mountains caught the mighty sound, 

And burled it to the blast ; 
And on the wings of mighty winds, 

The song went sounding past. 

They reared an altar, on whose top 

The watch-fire ever glows ; 
They raised a banner — 'tis unfurled 

To every wind that blows ; 
They sang the song of Liberty I 

The distant nations heard; 
And rolled It down the tide of time. 

And the World's great heart was stirred. 
I San FraneiteOf Jwu 7, 1859. 



THE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM IN CALIFORNIA. 



29 



SKETCH OF THE ORIGIN AND 
EARLY PROGRESS OF THE FREE 
SCHOOL SYSTEM IN CALIFORNIA. 



Iq the last number we gaye as full a 
iketeh of the schools existing in this city 
prcrioas to September, 1849, as the ma- 
terials procored after carefal search would 
permit These schools, with the ezcep- 
tioD of that taught by Mr. Morton, were 
ihort lived, and failed to fully meet the 
vi&ts of the times. Their attendance 
VIS thiD, owing rather to high rates of 
toitioii, than to a scarcity in children of 
nitable age. According to a census of 
the town in June, 1847, there were over 
OM hundred who could not read or write. 
A« the number under fifteen years of age 
•mounted to 107, it is probable that the 
children made up a large portion of the 
Istter class. Those not in school were 
•dolling aboat and acquiring vicious 
habits. In 1849 a large portion of the 
(•■ilies resident here were from Austra- 
lia sad other foreign countries, and many 
of thsa were neither able nor inclined 
w iBcu^ the expense of educating their 
ehiUren. Mr. William's school at no 
tiae probably during that year contained 
•ore than a qoarter of the children who 
■hoiihi have been receiving instruction. 
Had private schools continued, undonbt- 
etiv a large proportion of the youth 
voald have grown up unlettered. After 
the dose of his school on the 20th of 
Septenber, the town was left without 
eay meaas of education, and amid the 
■sireml gold excitement, no measures 
««« taken to remedy the eviL 

Bat daring the following October, Mr. 
'^ C. Ptolion and wife arrived from 
BortoQ, after a tedious voyage round Cape 
&»B. Mr. Pelton had been engaged in 
*>Mhiag at tiie east, and we understand 
te for several years his attention had 
hseo tamed to the Pacific coast as a field 
fcr oasAil kbor in his department At 
ihs c tw i m e n eeaent of the great emigra- 



tion to California he decided to remove 
hither with his family and make it his 
permanent home, with a view to estab- 
lishing here the free common school sys- 
tem of New England. So laudable an 
object was looked upon with much inter- 
est at home, and his efforts were heartily 
seconded by many friends of education 
in New England. 

It may not be generally known that the 
thanks of San Francisco are due to Hen* 
ry N. Hooper, Esq., of Boston, for the 
donation of a bell, presented to the first 
free grammer school that should be or- 
ganized in this city. It was large and 
fine-toned,cast expressly for the purpose, 
and bore the following inscription in rais- 
ed letters, "Presented to the first free 
grammer school in San Francisco." It 
was shipped in the New Jersey, in which 
Mr. and Mrs. P. took passage, and was 
designed to hang in the belfry of his 
school-house, should he succeed in his 
object. It was placed in a position on 
board where it was called into requisition 
for the ship's use, sonorously tolling out 
the watches through the Atlantic and 
Pacific oceans. But unfortunately, like 
the fate of many other human collections 
it was not destined to be raised in its ap- 
propriate position. Our city, though re- 
ceiving hundreds of thousands from taxes 
and the sale of its lands, while its citixens 
also were accumulating princely fortunes 
was too poor to give it a shelter. While 
slumbering in the private warehouse of 
William Hooper Esq., brother to the do- 
nor, waiting for the "good time coming," 
its "tongue" was forever silenced by the 
great conflagration of the 4th of May, 

Among others who lent their aid and 
encouragement, were Gov. Briggs, of 
Massachusetts, Rev. H. W. Beecherof 
New York, B. F. Whittemore, Esq., Rev. 
Nathaniel Colver, Deacon Moses Grant, 
Deacon Timothy Gilbert, William B. Fowle 
Esq., and Phillips & Sampson, of Boston; 
Mark H. Newman k Co., of New York, 



30 



HUTGHINGS' CAUFOBNIA MAGAZINE. 



and Sanborn & Garter, of Portland ; the 
three latter firms donating a large quan- 
tity of the most approved school books 
then in use. These donations proyed of 
essential service in defraying expenses 
during the incipient stage of the school, 
besides remedying a vrant vrhich could 
not then be fully supplied here by our 
bookstores. 

Soon after making provision for the 
comfort of his family during the inclement 
season of 1849-50, Mr. Pelton set about 
making preparations to carry out the ob- 
ject of his mbsion. Tn the month of 
December the following advertisement 
appeared in the Pacific News, vis: 

**A Fbse Public School. The subscri- 
ber purposes to establish in San Francis- 
co a Free Jhiblic School. In order that 
the school may be free to all, who may 
be disposed to avail themselves of its ad- 
vantages, it is proposed to admit, free of 
tuition, all who may apply, no other 
compensation being required at present 
than what friends of the school may be 
disposed to contribute. It is also pro- 
posed, until better arrangements can be 
made, that the school consist of children 
and youth of both sexes, and of the dif- 
f(Mrent ages that usually attend primary 
and more advanced schools, and that the 
course of study include those English 
branches taught in the public schools of 
New England. The school will commence 
on the 26th inst. [Dec. 26, 1849.]'' 

The old chapel of the Baptist church 
on Washington street was procured for a 
school room, which the trustees gener- 
ously offered rent free. 

It is worthy of remark that this relic 
of early times, and the birth place of our 
free schools, though somewhat re-mod- 
deled on the erection of the new church 
edifice, is still occupied for the same pur- 
pose to which it was devoted by Mr. Pel- 
ton. At theorganisation of the California 
College in this room in 1857, Dr. (Hb- 
bons made some happy allusions to this 



spot as the ''holy ground" on which the 
humbler departments of learning had 
their origin in this State. 

The generous loan of the building was 
a very opportune and important assistance 
to the infant enterprise in those days of 
exorbitant rents, and one which was con- 
tinued for more than a year after the 
school came under the control of the city. 
Mr. Pelton fitted it up with writing desks 
and other articles necessary for the pur- 
poses of the school, at his own expraise ; 
and on the day advertised took his posi- 
tion as teacher in his spacious room. — 
Three scholars constituted his school on 
the first morning, but the number rapid- 
ly increased. Daring the first quarter 
130 were admitted. 

The branches of study taught, were in 
accordance with those proposed in the 
above advertisement. The free system 
was a great puzsle to some of the foreign 
residents, and they suspected something 
must be out of joint, when their children 
were educated without money and vrith- 
ottt price. They would sometimes send 
in the usual fee, and it was difficult for 
them to understand why a man should 
''work for nothing and find himself." — 
Through all the embarrassments and dif- 
ficulties incident to this new undertaking 
the free principle was strictly adhered 
to, and no sum was ever received unless 
with the express understanding that it 
was a donation. The friends of the en- 
terprise were warm in their enoomiums, 
and a few of them were liberal in their 
contributions; but the pecuniary aid thus 
rendered fell vastly short of meeting nec- 
essary expenses. Indeed $200 only was 
the total amount contributed in cash, 
which defrayed but about one half the 
expense of fitting up the school room. — 
Thus the whole burden of the first quar- 
ter fell on the teacher. Some of the 
friends of the school, though highly ap- 
proving of the object, and admiring Mr. 
P's. perseverance and saorifioes for its 



THE FREE SCHOOL 8TSTEM IN OAUFORNIA. 



31 



ptomolUMi, ihoaght him insane, or to say 
^ leMt, indulging in a strange idioejn- 
emj to neglect the tempting opportunity 
tiMD offered, of the extraordinary facili- 
ty for aoqniring wealth, to secure for 
hi— elf a fortune in the general scramble 
far gold. 

Nothing now appeared to be wanting 
to Moare complete sucoess, but the means 
of profiding for his support The school 
WM large and flourishing, and in it was 
t^ germ of a mighty influence which 
vw hertfefter to be exerted on this wes- 
t«ii slope of the continent; this donbi- 
i«i he realised. Rents and the expenses 
tf Bnng were at that time enormously 
^h, and it toon became evident that 
MM way must be devised to procure the 
mtm to defray them. To abandon the 
frM plan and charge ibr tuition would 
Met his long cherished object, and 
wtMaoCbeentertained. In this dilemma, 
tovirds the end of the quarter, Mr. Pel- 
taopstitioned theCity Conncilto take the 
mM under its control, and proTide the 
■wif ht ite support; or, in other words 
to eoostitute it a Jrte common school, in 
•*«7 nase of the term, as contemplated 
ffm its irst inception. That this peti- 
tin was HieraOy granted is put beyond 
lO qeestion by the action of the board 
*Uch soon followed. Particular atten- 
tne ii directed to this point, as what we 
tneeiTe to be the plain facts in this mat- 
Mtter have been repeatedly ignored by 
?«ti« who haTe been connected witli 
t^ lehool department — and others. 

Tbe eooncil being composed mostly of 
Ma who oame from a part of the coun- 
»T where the ''Yankee notion" of free 
«Ms had not been established, did not 
tt Int adequately appreciate this impor> 
tut iastitutaon, and the proposition met 
*tlh a eool reception, and a decided op- 
?MlioB from a small minority. The op- 
?MBli of the measure were willing, as 
•*9dQf charity, to pay for the tuition of 
^ ehadren of the poor, but deprecated 



squandering the public money in educa- 
ting those of the rich. But wiser coun- 
sels finally prevailed. A second petition 
signed by the friends of free education, 
and headed by Rev. 0. 0. Wheeler, was 
more successful. A resolution was adop- 
ted, March 29th, employing Mr. and Mrs. 
Pelton as teachers, and making an appro- 
priation for their support, and at the next 
meeting, April 8th, an " Ordinance for 
the Regulation of Common Schools, " (a 
very significant title,) enacted, by which 
it was made 'Hhe duty of John C. Pelton 
to open a school in the Baptist church," 
and in which all children were required 
to be instructed ''free of charge." The 
intentions of the council oould not have 
been more plainly expressed, and no fact 
can be more clearly demonstrated than 
that the city opened, controlled, and 
supported this sohool. The objection to 
this position that it was previously estab- 
lished is mere trifling. 

In this connection, honorable mention 
should be made of Rev. 0. C. Wheeler, 
C. L. Ross, Esq., and the late W. D. M. 
Howard, through whose influence, more 
than that of any others, out of the coun- 
cil, we are indebted for this result 

As an item of public interest, we insert 
the entire proceedings of the council in 
relation to this matter, as far as the dia- 
tracted state of our city archives enable 
us to obtain them. We would make a 
suggestion to our city fathers relative to 
the importance of immediately taking 
some measures for the arrangement and 
preservation of such early municipal rec- 
ords as have escaped destruction, which 
it must be confessed are now, through the 
negligence of former oflicials in a shame- 
ful state of disorder, on loose scraps of 
paper. 

" At a meeting of the town council held 
March 29, 1850, on motion of Mr. Qreen 
it was 

Resolved, That from and alter the first 
day of April, 1850, John 0. Pelton and 



32 



nUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



Mrs. Pelton, his ,wife, be employed as 
teachers for the public school in the Bap- 
tist church (which has been offered to the 
council free of charge ; ) and that the 
average number of scholars shall not ex- 
ceed one hundred, and that they shall be 
entitled to a salary of five hundred dol- 
lars per month, payable monthly during 
the pleasure of the council." 

"On motion of Mr. Jas. S. Graham the 
oommittee on education, [consisting of 
Hugh 0. Murray, Esq., Frank Tilford, 
£sq., and Col. Wm. M. Stuart,] are in- 
structed to drafb an ordinance for the reg- 
ulation of said school." 

" At a meeting of the town council 
April 8, 1850, on motion of Mr. Murray, 
the following ordinance was adopted — 

**An Ordinance for the RegidcUum of 
Common Schools'' — 

'*Sec. 1. Be it ordained &c., that from 
and after the passage of this act, it shall 
be the duty of John C. Pelton, who has 
been employed by the council, as a pub- 
lic teacher, to open a school in the Bap- 
tist church. 

Sic. 2. Said school shall be open from 
half past eight o'clock. A, M., to twelve 
M., and from two P. M., until five P. M.; 
and shall continue open from Monday 
until Friday at five P. M., of each week. 

"Sic. 3. The number of scholars shall 
not exceed the number of one hundred ; 
and no scholar shall be admitted under 
the age of four,nor over theageof sixteen 
years. 

*'Sbc. 4. All persons desirous of hav- 
ing their children instructed in said school 
shall first obtain an order from the chair- 
man of the oommittee of education f and 
all children obtaining said order shall 
be instructed in said school free of charge. 

"Sxc. 5. It shall be the duty of said 
Pelton to report to the council on the first 
of each and every month the number of 
scholars, and the progress of said school." 

Thus, in accordance with the above ac- 
tion of the council, the school became on 



the 1st of April, a public school, suppor- 
ted and controlled by the city, though in 
all other respects remaining as before. — 
The school ordinance, though brief and 
imperfect, answered all purposes for the 
time, while there was but one school. 
This action constituted it, in kind, as well 
as in fact, a, free common school as traly 
as would the most elaborate enactments 
and regulations. 

Those schools immediately succeediDg, 
altera short vacation, organized under 
the second school ordinance, were regular 
successors of the parent schooL 

Tet, in the face of all these facts, the 
first superintendent, who was the author 
of the second school ordinance, in his 
quarterly reports, uniformly dated the 
commencement of our free school system 
in California, at the time of its adoption 
and his inauguration! The second super- 
intendent also, in a historical address de- 
livered before the Teachers,Normal Class 
in September, 1855, says, *^Four years 
have not yet fully elapsed since the time 
of their establishment," and in which the 
original school was not once alluded to I 
And, what is still more singular,sevezi of 
our oldest and most respectable oitisens 
endorsed the error, by requesting a copy 
of the " able and valuable address " for 
publication. On the resignation of a 
prominent teacher in 1857, in some com- 
plimentary resolutions adopted by the 
Board of Education, substantially the 
same error was re iterated. On the occa- 
sion of the dedication of the Bush street 
school house, in 1854, it was stated by 
one of the speakers that "this is the first 
free school ever established on the shores 
of the Pacificl " The article on education 
in the *' Annals of San Francisco" is re- 
puted to have been written by the first 
superintendent It is there stated that 
Mr. Pelton's "was called a public school, 
although the city council had nothing to 
do with its organization or management* 

Why this poeitiou should have keen so 



THE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM IN CALIFORNIA. 



33 



pertiiiaeioaaly and blindly persisted in, 
iod laother school, subsequently estab- 
liihed, be hoisted into notice as "the pio- 
seer free school, " and a subsequent teach- 
er, though worthy of all praise for his dis- 
tiDgiiisbed serviceSfbe styled "the pioneer 
tacber," we cannot understand. The 
•ebool referred to, instead of being fret, 
was opened nearly seven months after 
thU of Mr. Pelton's, and was supported 
hff tuitiom foes for more than a year afler 
its commencement in Happy Valley. — 
If there is any merit in having estab- 
lUbed this school, the merit is due to Mr. 
Peiton, who was exclusively instrumen- 
tal in opening it It was free for a few 
of the first weeks, but was afterwards 
d.aoged to a private one until the adop- 
tioQ of the second school ordinance. 
Tbis piece of injustice to the real " pio- 
DMr," is certainly not " rendering unto 
C»ar the things which are Csssar's. *' 

The sttbseqaent enactment of another 
lad more perfect school ordinance, adopt- 
ed to the wanta of the department when 
it had become more extended, was a new 
cfaiD the history of our common schools, 
Ut Dot their origin in this city, as has 
beea frequently asserted. A third ordi- 
UDce aud a radical re-organization have 
fiace been substituted for the second, but 
BO oce OQ that account dreams of discard- 
ing what bad previously been done un- 
^er the second. These attempts to entire- 
Ij ipiore the early labors and sacrifices 
«f Mr. PeUon, by those who have ample 
Bcaotof more correct information, is ut- 
terly futile and ungenerous, as every one 
bovs who was here in 1849 and '50. 
Oar only object in this digression, is to 
Kt the matter right before the public. 

To retom; for some time after its adop- 
^ bj the city, the school went on pros- 
r^TOttily ; but, very singularly, this very 
pHMperity was ultimately the cause of 
mHoqs embsrrassments to the principal. 
It will be seen that the school ordinance 
nsUieted the attendance to one hundred 



pupils; but they continued to pourin> 
and the principal of the Echool could not 
refuse to admit them. Upon consulting 
with individual members of the council, 
they advised him to receive all applicants 
and, if necessary, employ another assis- 
tant ; and they promised their influence 
to obtain from the council an appropria- 
tion to meet the additional expense. He 
accordingly employed another teacher, 
and, as the school still continued to in- 
crease, a second assistant was necessary. 
Both were paid from his own moans, un- 
der the expectation that the money thus 
expended would be returned from the city 
treasury. But month after month pass- 
ed, and no appropriation was made. The 
teacher's salary was apparently liberal, 
but the payment was made in scrip, which 
his necessities compelled him to get cash- 
ed at a ruinous discount. At one time 
the city credit was so depressed that he 
could obtain but 33 per cent, of its par 
value, and his entire salary for more than 
six months, in 1850-'5i, was exhausted 
in paying these assistant teachers. Daily 
expecting relief, he continued these dis- 
bursments from his private income until 
he became seriously involved in provi- 
ding for his own support, and the little 
property he had accumulated was sacri- 
ficed to liquidate these debts. 
It is true he had no leffol demand against 
the city, having, in his seal, taken the 
risk of the generosity of the council ; but 
this refusal to remunerate him was cer- 
tainly a most pitiful piece of economy. 
In view of the disastrous pecuniary re- 
sults to Mr. Pelton, however, some gen- 
erous citizens came forward and contrib- 
uted a sum sufficient, nearly, to cover 
these disbursements; but these favors 
came too late to avert the sacrifice of his 
comfortable homestead. With a full 
knowledge of these difficulties in his ear- 
ly labors in the cause of free education, 
we doubt not a generous public will not 
longer refuse the cheap reward of an 



34 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE, 



acknowledgment of his agency in laying 
the foundation of our present flourishing 
free school system. 

During the first quarter of the public 
school one hundred and fifty-two pupils 
were admitted, between the ages of four 
and sixteen. To the curious the follow- 
ing yiew of the mixed character of our 
population at that time may be interest- 
ing, extracted from the teacher's report 
showing the nativity of the pupils: — 

"Maine 1 

New Hampshire 2 

Vermont 1 

Massachusetts 4 

Hhode Island 3 

New York 16 

New Jersejr 4 

Fennsylyania 5 

Maryland 3 

Ohio 3 

Iowa 3 

Wisconsin 3 

Tennessee 1 

Missouri • 5 

Mississippi 1 



their frequent personal inspection and 
counsel ; and the press also often ^to 
flattering notices of its success. 

At the celebration of the admission of 
California into the Union, in thb city, in 
1850, the public school formed an inter- 
esting feature in the programme, and is 
thus noticed by the Pacific News of Noy. 
1st: — "We were much interested to see 
displayed in the midst of the assembled 
thousands in the Plasa on Tuesday last, 
in front of the speakers' stand, a banner 
with the inscription on it — ^Tkt Firai 
Public School in Califomia 1* Around it 
were clustered some scores of children 
with hearts all full of delightful sensa- 
tions, and enjoying, if it were possible — 
and we do not doubt it — more happiness 
than any others in the yast throng. They 
were accompanied by their head teacher, 
Mr. J. 0. Pelton, and his assistants, who 
haye been unobtrusiyely laboring for the 
last ten months in educating all the cbil- 



Louisiana 14 Idren in San Francisco which could be 



Arkansas 6 

Oregon 1 

California. 2 

Total Natiye, 77 

England 5 

Scotland 4 

Ireland 5 

Germany 1 

France 1 

Chili 20 

Peru 1 

Australia 20 

New Zealand 15 

Sandwich Islands 3 

Total Foreign 75 

The monthly reports required by the 
school ordinance, were published in the 
papers of the day, and were extensiyely 
copied at the East and in Europe, as a 
gratifying eyidence of the prosperity of 
this useful New England institution at 
that early day, in Califomia. The school 
excited much interest in the community 
generally, and receiyed the encourage- 
ment of our most prominent citizens, by 



gathered together. We haye been ao- 
quainted with his operations in this de- 
partment for the past six months, and can 
testify to his seal, efficiency and success. 
The school has been constantly on the 
increase eyer since, and now numbers 140 
pupils, most of whom attend steadily. 
Being many of them children whose pa- 
rents are unable to pay for their educa- 
tion, it becomes necessary to look to some 
other source for the support of their teach- 
er. And we regret to say that here in 
'the land of gold' the school master has 
been badly paid,and that he asks the City 
Council in yain for relief. Pay him, and 
pay him well, we say. It is not a large 
sum, but its useful effects will be seen 
after we all are laid beneath the clods of 
the yalley.'' The editor here refers to 
the pecuniary embarrassments of the 
teacher, and his claims on the public 
treasury before attended to. 

The fire of the 22d of June 1851 hay- 
ing injured the building ooonpied up to 



THB FRBE SCHOOL STSTEM IN CALIFORNIA. 



35 



thmi tuna by the school, it became neces- 
eary to procure another room. After a 
■hort Tacation, the school was aocording- 
1t remored, for a short time, to the Meth- 
odist chapel on Powell street, and then 
agun to the First Congregational church 
on Jackson street, where it remained an- 
tH aboat the first of September following. 
The citj was exempt from the payment 
of wny rent for school purposes, or any 
eare in regard to providing a room daring 
the entire period of Mr. Pelton's services 
— lua aoticitude for the prosperity of the 
tehool, lA the absence of any provision 
far iti acoommodation, prompting him to 
look after its peconiary interests, in addi- 
tkm to his legitimate work. He officiated 
M aezton for the three sooiedes, daring 
the oocnpancy of their premises, as a 
partuJ compensation for the use of their 
churehes. 

Daring some portions of the term of 
Mr. Pelton's service, the number of pupils 
Qo the list of attendance amounted to 
300y wbioh, as we have seen, had grown 
out of the very small beginning of three. 
Daring the entire period, a year and three 
quarters, the whole number that had re- 
ceived instraetionin the school was about 
cfeam kmmdred. Notwithstanding all the 
diftcoldea and discouragements which 
had been eooountered, this result certain- 
ly shows a very gratifying view of the 
of the pioneer school, and one 



wfaieh SBoet assuredly deserves honorable 
The probabilities are that the 
introduction of the common 
school system would have been delayed a 
wttmbur of years but for the persevering 
c€brts of this teacher. The council which 
by the adoption of the common school 
offdineiioe of April 8th, 1860, gave birth 
to the free school system in this city,*was 
at linl only lukewarm on the subject,and 
as we have shown above, only moved in 
the Bsatter after urgent appeals of the 
friends of free education; and the favor- 
able riews of the next cooneil were con- 



sidered as so doubtful, that the teacher 
thought it not expedient to present his 
bills until its members were convinced of 
the importance of the object by outside 
influences. Strange as it may now sound, 
it was thought an extravagant waste of 
the public money by some, to expend 
$6,000 a year for the education of the 
youth of our city, while hundreds of thou- 
sands were being squandered on very 
questionable objects. 

On the 25th of September, the school 
department was reorganized by the adop- 
tion of an ordinance better adapted to 
the educational requirements of the time. 
The population of the city had greatly 
increased by the immigration of families, 
and had become spread over a large sur- 
face, and wider and more perfectly arran- 
ged school facilities were of course now 
needed. The provisions of the second 
ordinance were carried into effect on the 
21st of October, by the election of a 
Board of Education and a Superintendent, 
and the city was dirided into five districts, 
to be supplied with schools as soon as 
the council should deem necessary. At 
the same time $35,000 were appropriated 
for school purposes, which, with the addQ 
tion of $25,000 preriously ordered, was 
consUtuted a school fund. 

We have now brought the history of 
the school department of this city down 
to the month of October, 1851. In our 
next we shall bring the record down to 
the present time, should space permit. 

MY WINDOW-SEAT. 

A PAOB POE KATTBB-Or-PACT-POLXS TO SKIF. 

« 

BSTBBia ma ruar. 



Did it not sound too presumptuous, 
Oorydon, you should have the confession, 
that I think I came very near being a 
poet — that somewhere in the elements of 
the rital fire which warms my nature is 
hidden a spark, such as glows in the bo- 
soms of the children of Song. Itmay be 



36 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



this germ of Poesy was implanted at too 
great a depth, and, like seeds which have 
been buried too deep, perished before it 
struggled up into the genial air and sun- 
light—or, haply, die for lack of the fos- 
tering warmth of love, or the refreshing 
dew of tears— or perhaps it was enclosed 
in a shell, which circumstances never 
opened — or that the soil was arid and 
sterile, or — I know not what : no matter 
— it never grew — never bloomed — ^never 
bore fruit ; and, if it ever existed, was 
numbered in the sad list of things that 
wore created in vain. 

Yet, as I sit by my window and watch 
the day's closing scene — how quiet and 
beautiful for the busy city, — and see the 
soft sunbeams stream over the barren 
sand-hills, and rest on the flowers in the 
garden below, that receive in sleepy Ian- 
gor the parting rays, and hear a confused 
din of drowsy sounds which my ear cares 
not to distinguish, Eave the vesper chirp 
of that little caged bird, and the whisp- 
ered consultations of some mischief-plot- 
ting children in the garden — as my senses 
drink these sights and sounds in dreamy 
happiness, I complacently cherish the 
thought that I came very near being a 
poet. Not I alone, Oorydon — I am not 
so egotistical as that ; but you, also— 
everybody. We all have the elements 
of Poesy implanted in us, which it need- 
ed but circumstances to develop. The 
deep emotions awakened oy the power of 
poetry, speak of a like force in ourselves : 
the strong passions roused by the martial 
bard's stirring lay — the tear bestowed 
upon the minstrel's tender strain, are the 
sympathetic responses of accordant depths 
in our bosoms. The heart that has the 
capacity to sympathise to the fullest ex- 
tent with any sentiment is capable of 
conceiving it. 

Perhaps the first note has never been 
breathed forth, nor the first tenderly con- 
ceived fancy been embodied in a aweet- 
numbered strain. But we are not to 



judge of a person's capacity for song, 
their depth of feeling, their power of 
ideal conception, only by what they have 
sung. Un worded, unexpressed, and lock- 
ed in the hearts of those who created 
them, have lived and died sweeter strains 
and finer images than were ever written. 
A thousand sad causes may have repress- 
ed the gush of feeling ; a fear of critical 
severity-a cold indi£ference for the world's 
applause — an unhappy lot, or a lot too 
full of happiness— or some may have ex- 
perienced the bitter pang of being unable 
to give utterance to their thoughts, and 
felt their hearts swell with its burden of 
unutterable harmony, until it became a 
weary pain which caused it to break. 

No matter what the cause: enough — 
our hearts are songless! But, hidden 
deep within its secret colls — even in its 
very holy of holies — ^is somewhere a little 
shrine consecrated to Poesy. The temple 
lacks a priestess, and no ''incense kindled 
at the Muse's flame" has ever burned 
upon its sacred altar ; but who shall say 
an offering might not have been given 
there, the sweetest, the grandest ever de- 
voted to song 1 

But, Corydon, however near I came to 
being a p^et, I missed it — and thank my 
stars for having gone astray. I would 
not be a poet ! They are looked upon 
as poor unfortunates^their works and 
actions licensed, as savages tolerate the 
wild freaks of madness, supposing it to 
be in some way connected with the super- 
natural ; and their dealings with imagin- 
ary subjects exclude them from the pale 
of humanity, keeping them apart in a 
sphere of cold i4eality — denied even the 
attributes of common mortals. Such is 
my idea of them, derived from experi- 
ence. 

Some bard once fired my boyish breast 
with his entrancing numbers, until my 
heart swelled with the desire to pour out 
similar strains ; and with earnest solem- 
nity I announced to my youthful compan- 



MY WINDOW SKAT. 



37 



ions that I was goiDg to turn poet, and 
eooldn't play with them any more. Ac- 
cordingly, one morning I forsook the lit- 
tle groap of children who went forth to 
■port among the May flowers, with hearts 
aa light as the breezes that fanned their 
dieeka, and retirod to my stndv, which I 
had fitted ap in a garret. The scene that 
Bet my Tiew as I irresistibly peeped out 
of the little garret-window, might have 
inspired any poet The sun shone so 
brightly on the whole landscape— on the 
distant hillsides, white with daisies — on 
the meadows, golden-hued with butter- 
cops, where my little playmates were 
sparrhing for the first ripening strawber- 
ries—or eometimes a lone cloud wandered 
along the elear sky, and then oyer the 
meadows the sunshine was chased by a 
ihadow, which was pursued in turn by 
the bri^t floods of sunshine. From the 
roefcy hiil-lands the looing of cattle came 
oa the air — the laborers' shouts were 
he ar d in the neighboring fields — ^in the 
sUer-groTe down by the little brook the 
birds were singing gleefully, and my 
Bother's gentle voice hummed a happy 
tone as she bosied herself with her house- 
hold daties. I saw and felt it all ; but 
eoQld not give my feelings utterance. — 
Rhymes are stem things, Corydon, and 
the bark of many a fine poetical fancy 
has been wrecked on them, and its strug- 
gUag, hopefnl freight sunk down, to rest, 
sahonored and unsung — ^butnot unwept. 
The power was not given me to write the 
SBOtions that swelled raguely in my 
breast ; bot I could express them in the 
langnage of childhood's poetry — ^by ro- 
ving free over the fields, culling flowers, 
<thaaing batterflies,and singing in a strain 
whose joyoosness echoed back the birds' 
happy songs. So I abandoned my study, 
and eooght my playmates in the meadow. 
I walked abstractedly apart from the 
groups fearful of their deriding laughter, 
but when some of them commenced to 
tally me apon my inconstancy to the sacred 



Nine, sister Nell reproved them, and said 
so solemnly : "Don't talk to him — ^he's a 
poet now." 

Childish simplicity I — ^but does not the 
world repeat the admonition every day ? 
" Don't talk to him— he's a poetl" as 
though there were something in the mere 
name that excluded him from all inter- 
course with men. Poor things I raised 
by general agreement to a superior realm 
fitted for clay poetically tinctured — beings 
too exalted to bestow upon them our 
warm sympathies and affections, and only 
to be admired through their works, which 
are supposed to fall upon our lowly head 
from sources as unworldly and pure as 
the snowflake that descends from the sky 
or a spotless plume dropped from the pin- 
ion of an angel. 

Yet how erroneous the opinion I If 
there is any one who possesses deeper, 
tenderer and more general sympathies — 
who is more thoroughly endowed with 
every attribute of humanity than another, 
it is the poet The being who holds the 
power so skillfully to touch the sources 
of feeling in others, must himself be ac- 
cutely susceptible of the emotions he 
awakens. And in this intense suscepti- 
bility lies the secret of their unhappiness 
BA a class. It is easy to imagine how 
hearts so sensitive — so exquisitely alive 
to joy or so keenly wounded by misfor- 
tune — are pained and broken in a world, 
which, if it is not all sorrow, is neither 
entirely sunshine and happiness. 

▲N KOLOOUK. 

OOKTDOH. 

How blMt, Mtnd I mui be the poet*i life, 
Bj HeaTen exempted from earth'i fcenet of itrlfe, 
■adowed with gifte thftt ktop hftre Ttinly MUght, 
My boeom burns with envy of his lot 1 
How Mesi, Alexis, thos to lie snpliie, 
Bmbowered by the thlckljr-tangled rloe. 
And wsteh the honrs lo happy pleasure speed. 
Cheered by the plplogs of yoar taneful reed I ' 
The graalof herds which spot the gnuy plain 
Sbonld gather round to list the happy strain. 
While feathered songsters of the shady grorea 
Sbonld hush their own to list to others' lores; 
And wkm aightt shadows staallng o'er the plain 



38 



HUTCniNGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



RelecMd from toll the neJghborinf maid uld iwfti^, 
Tb« froap ihoidd duiee upon the moon-Ut mead 
To the blithe numbers of the poet'i reed. 
By heftTen tboe fayored, Alezie, who would not 
KoT J the pleuoree of the poet's lolf 

ALBxm. 

Oo, slUy yoath ! thou'rt like the mmn I know. 
Who saw a sUre decked for the page«Dt show, 
Aod, in ttie joj the glittering trappings gave, 
Corsed fate that he had not been bom a tIaTe. 
I knew a poet once I 



happy man f 
What was he like?— dld'st well his figure scan? 
Had he the radiant brow and dream>lit eyes 
Of some bright wanderer from Paradise, 
Who passed in happiness earth's scene 
His breathing mosic, and his accents song t 



His heritage was woe ; e*en from his birth 
His lot was the nnfortonates' of earth ; 
His natal-hour did Misery attend, 
And walked through life— his only constant friend : 
To sorrow bom, a melancholy child, 
On whom the sun cast shadows, but ne'er smiled. 
Hit was a soul which liTed but to aspire — 
Tet porerty suppressed its generous fire ; 
His was a heart of that peculiar kind 
Which longs for peace— yet peace couM neyer find. 
Yet ofl his subdued nature broke control. 
And flames poetic rapt his ferrld soul, 
And bright conceptions in a beauteous train 
In soft delirium swept his heated brain : 
And then he was Inspired, and breathed forth thought 
In words whose tone had hearen's own beauty caught; 
Sparkled with gems the current of his song. 
As swelling torrents pour their tide along, 
Dash into foam, and rise in snowy spray. 
With diamond sheen and iridescent play. 
Oft themes exalted woke the poet's lyre. 
Or stirring scenes, or deeds of martial fire; 
But better suited with its gentle note 
The sad heart-history of some humble lot. 
Whose lowly joys, to wealth and fame unknown, 
Were but a reflex of the minstrel's own : 
8oft Pity's hahd swept o*er the poet's heart 
And woke a strain— he sang its counterpart ; 
In sorrow he concelred their hopes and fears, 
?*d like earth's daughters brought them forth in 



ral-traln with signs of wo» 
ith solemn steps and slow ; 
of fond affeetlonshed 
whom the gentle dead 
art of tuneful nambers* 
mmble poet's slumbers : 
f existence gaTc— 
wen UooB o*er hit grvre. 



A TRIBUTE TO GENIUS. 



BT OKDXLLI C. HOWK. 

Oenlna, the Pythian of the beantifU, 
liesTes lU large troths a riddle to the dtdl ; 
Prom eyes profane a veil the iris screens. 
And fools on fools still ask what Hamlet meaaa. 

BULI 



The glorioQs gifts of genius are often 
fatal to the possessor; and those lofty 
aspirations and golden poetic reTeriee— 
ethereal'fancies — are likewise often doom- 
ed to a bitter disappointment. The drea- 
my deroteeof literary idols is often omshed 
amid the gorgeous ruins of his own oasUe 
building, which, before the dome is prop- 
erly fixed, totters and tumbles upon him. 
Abore all the fine faculties that the mu- 
nificent hand of the Creator has lavished 
upon poor earth-worms, is that of using 
the pen. Many a rapt enthusiast has 
toiled away, up in his old rickety dormi- 
tory, with his brain wild and fereriah, 
and his heart — the human heart — ^throb- 
bing, teeming, bursting with the unsatis- 
fied yearnings of the immortal soul. He 
is shrinkingly sensitive, dreamy and mor- 
bidly melancholy, and recoils like a fawn 
from the contaminating touch of the 
worldling. His hoarded treasures, his 
fire-side thoughts, his heart's nestlings, 
his brightest jewels, and soul-gems are 
given to the world-— often how very thank- 
lesslyr •' The knights of the quill '' are 
usually poor in this world's goods, but 
rich in the mine of golden thought and 
vision ; and one that follows the entran- 
cing pursuits of literature often toils for 
a daily pittance that will scarcely keep 
the haggard monster, the hungry wolf, 
fW>m the door. 

The world's blight and human unkind- 
nesses, and even death, cannot quench 
the fire that glows within the chastened 
soul ; and the homage the world gives to 
genius — the child of tears — is a {KX)r con- 
solation, a shabby recompense, for a life- 
time of toil and heart-pains. Yet all who 
write cannot expect to clamber to Parnas- 
sus' heights, and slake their burning 



A TRIBUTE TO GENIUS. 



39 



thinl al the foant^in of knowledge. — 
Though one's inflaence b delicate, and 
eanes not with the power of an Archi- 
medes' lerer, it wiU live, it will exist, 
when our humble names and habitations 
are thieU j orergrown with the dark mos- 
•et of obUrion — ^when the chaotic silence 
of for^getfalness shall coyer with its dark 
pall the cnimbling remuns of departed 
loTelineM, and hoary Time with his ob- 
Dterating fingers shall haye erased our 
ample names from the decaying tomb- 
•tooe. The world's unkindness and 
wrong is oonkinually recording itself upon 
she tablets of the soul. How many at 
thb moineni would gladly ask the heart 
BOW stilled foreyer, to be forgiyen f Tes I 
Bsay a proud» soaring spirit the world 
hath crashed — and many a deep-loying 
heart has been torn, broke and lacerated 
by hitter eoom, haughty pride and indif- 



Byron was driyen, like another Gain, 
over the teeming land and dangerous sea, 
•eeking that Paradise of rest he neyer 
foond; his own frailties and the Muse 
naited to work out his heart-felt calami- 
tics and death ; and Greece has all that 
ramatna of the unfortunate English bard. 
if the stripling Shelly had not poured 
out all the wormwood and gall of his na- 
tors in the " Cenci, '' he would probably 
have not been shipwrecked on the little 
^ Ihu Juan. " nor his ashes been repo- 
•iag in a Roman graye. While liying, 
the ^■»g»«A reriews thought the pale 
yoath leagnad with his Satanic majesty, 
end were on the alert to crush with their 
hesrtlMB eritieisms the youthful bard 
iato aa untiBely graye. " I feel the dai- 
ses givwiag orar mt, " said the dying 
post: Ihoea ware the prophetio yisions of 
the lasl bomof his miserable existence; 
sad among the broken walls and daisies 
of the Eternal City lies another yictim 
•f Bogliah lampooning, satire and abuse. 
To die •• young as Keals — at the youth- 
la] age of twenty-tiiree, when he was 



just budding into promise— was indeed 
melancholy in the extreme; and, as he 
said, the perennial daisies bloom summer 
and winter aboye the finest poet that oyer 
graced this earth. Mrs. Hemans, the 
queenly poetess, was shamefully deserted 
by her ungrateful husband, and was one 
of the most wretched women at heart 
that eyer liyed. She was tenderly affeo- 
tionate and constant in her attachments 
— eyer ready to forgiye an injury, and 
eyen in the last agonies of death loved 
to madness the destroyer of her happi- 
ness. Her sad heart was eyer thirsting 
for loye and sympathy, and with tremu- 
lous susceptibility was eyer looking about 
the cold places of this earth to find some 
object to wind the tendrils of affection 
about. There is something pensiyely 
mournful and sweet about her poetry, 
that makes one long for the shores of Im- 
mortality and a glimpse of that "undis- 
coyered land" beyond. A religious sen- 
timent of compassion and deep suffering 
peryades like a broken strain of an Eolian 
lyre all her writings. 

Yes, genius is a fatal gift, and oflen 
springs from mere obscurity. Homer, 
the blind poet, was a street-beggar — Plar 
to it is said turned a mill — Terence was 
a slaye — ^Boetius died in the gloomy 
yaults of a prison, without a friend to 
call his own — ^Paul Borghes, had fourteen 
•trades, but staryed with them all — Tasso 
was oflen in want of a few shillings — 
Camoens, the author of " Lusiad, " ended 
his days in a dilapidated alms-house— 
and Yangelas left his body to the sur- 
geons, to liquidate his debts. In Merry 
England, with her kings and her queens, 
her wealth and grandeur. Bacon liyed a 
life of stinted meanness — Sir Walter Ral- 
eigh perished on the scaffold — Spenser 
died of want — ^Milton sold the copyright 
of '' Paradise Lost " for fifteen pounds, 
and ended his days in obscurity— Otway 
died of hunger— Lee expired in the street 
— ^Dryden liyed in haggard poyerty and 



40 



HUTCHING'S CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



want — Steele was always at war with the 
ba'liffsand officials — ^Richard Sayage, for 
a debt of eight pounds, ended his career 
in the Bristol prison — Butler lived in 
penury and died in want — Chatterton, 
the child of genius and misfortune, de- 
stroyed himself by his own hands — Dr. 
Johnson was so reduced in circumstances 
that he wrote " Rasselaes the Prince of 
Abysinia, " in the evenings of a week, 
to defray his mother's funeral expenses. 
Even in America, the boasted land of 
freedom, Edgar A. Poe, the laureate-poet, 
died without a farthing to call his own. 
r After all these human miseries, Parnas- 
sus is not deserted ; the Castalian spring 
flows on as ever, and the Apollo of an- 
tiquity smiles as benignantly upon the 
present generation as when Eastern my- 
thology recorded only fiction and wonder. 
And even in this golden-sunset land, the 



bard has tuned his lyre to the song of 
the Muses ; and, when the gnome of dark- 
ness has buttoned the night-curtains, the 
trudging miner hies away to his little 
cabin to while away the hours of twilight 
in the delicious raptures inspired by prose 
and verse. There is genius of a high or- 
der in California — most frequently to be 
met with among the beetling crags and 
rocks of the imperial snow-clad Sierras — 
who only need a pedestal to elevate them 
above the common dilly-dally rhymsters 
of the present day. What Californian is 
not proud of our own McDonald, the 
King of Editors on the Pacific coast, who 
breathes the sweetness of his ovm great 
soul into the columns of the " Trinitj 
Journal? " And who can forget the late 
Edward Pollock — ^whose harp sounded 
the sweetest strains ever awakened upon 
our sunny shores? 



^ut Sotial CJ[air. 




DiCMBB has set in with its usual severity 
I upon this sainted cityby tbesea. The 
ocean breezes come in loaded with en- 
tire fog-banks; and fierce simooms — their 
hot, arid breath changed to a chill dampness 
— sweep over the bleak sand hills. The fa- 
mous Gate which forms the entrance of 
our lovely Bay does not always wear its 
golden aspect. We have seen it when it 
was peerless in its splendor and gorgeous 
dyes — when its dazzling effulgence seemed 
a radiance streaming in from the realms of 
Glory, which lay just beyond — when, as the 
stately vessels rode out into the sea of 
light, 

"The tail mutg melted to ihlnneit threads in the 
glowing bate of gold;" 

— and we have seen it, too, when gloomy 
fleets of mist passed in, and wrapped city, 
hills and bay in darkness, and drizzled their 
cold spray in dreary showers through the 
cheerless streets. Providence with a just 
distribution of its favors, seems to have 



imposed this inclement and disagreeable 
summer weather upon us, as an offset to 
the numerous advantages of the Drama, 
Music, Literature and Commercial benefita 
which we, as a Metropolis possess over all 
other portions of the Golden State. We 
San Franciscans enjoy a decided superiority 
in the luxuries and elegancies with which 
Art and social refinement have adorned our 
homes; but our interior brethren bask in a 
climate the most glorious ever bestowed 
upon any land. As this Social Chair on 
these Summer afternoons sallies forth along 
Montgomery street — panoplied in a heavy 
overcoat, to resist the fierce assails of the 
chill, sandy breezes-it contrasts ourweath-. 
er with the long, gilded summer-days that 
rest in halcyon peace upon the Plains of 
the Mesa, or the sunny hills and yales of 
Los Mariposas. The sun shines as brightly 
there as it ever shone on classic lands, and 
sinks in the hazy west with as ineffable 
splendor as it ever sank in the iEBgean sea. 



OUR SOCIAL CHAIR. 



41 



The cmgB of Vo-Semite rise bolder than 

Drmchenfels ; sod Tines are springing on 

plain and mountain side, whose Tintage 

shall be ander skies as mellow and golden 

as bend orer the Tine-haryests of fair 

Italj. Tet for those mornings — there are 

some— when the san gleams warm and 

brightlj on fiur Terba Baena and the distant 

hnifl of Contra Costa, we can well afford to 

*• Watch And wait, 
Vhfl* tkm doodi eemt In throogh th« Golden Gate.** 

Araopos to the inclemency of San Fran- 
cisco sommer weather, a young friend of 
the Social Chair tells a ludicrous incident, 
which illostratei its sad effects under cer- 
tain circnmstancea. Our friend with an- 
other ronng man went, on one of our most 
characteristic afternoons, to call upon a 
Udy acquaintance, who lired in the sub- 
trhs ; and, after wandering for awhile, un- 
certain of their way, among the sand-hills, 
daring which time they had the full benefit 
of a chili sea breeie, they arrived in the 
Tieinity of the young lady's home. As is 
rery nntnral in cases where persons are 
detiroos of making a fhyorable impression 
they inspected each other's personal ap- 
pearance before approaching the house. — 
Oar friend expressed the result of his crit- 
ical inspection in the exclamation : 

^Charley, yoor nose is as blue as an 
iadigo-bag I'' 

*'So is yours I" replied his friend. 

Thereupon they both commenced yiolent- 
I7 rabbing their noses-trying, as our friend 
exprctses it, " to nicely get up a circula- 
tion." Bnt what tyro in color-mixing does 
set know^that blue and red, makes purple? 
-«nd the troth of this infallible law of 
•atore was never more beautifully exem- 
plified than in the present case. With the 
Tioleat friction, the deep blue changed to 
i deeper purple; and the two chivalrous 
fooog men, perfectly satisfied with the re- 
mit of "getting op a circulation," and con- 
cluding that the appearance of their coun- 
tenances would not be over fiiscinating to 
the yoong lady's eyes, followed their noses 
the Inclination which those organs 
towards the city. 



THE LOVERS. 

'TwAS night: the placid moon rose slowly 
To span the sky with shining girth, 

And shed her light — serene and holy, 
Upon the slumbering earth : 

And glistened in its sllyery beams 

A thousand merry-dancing streams, 

There stood a porch a cot before, 

Half hid by day from view, 
Yet mid the vines that clothed it o'er. 

The moonbeams struggled through, 
And flitted faintly on a pair 
Of youthful lovers seated there. 

fit the place for gentle lovers 
Where Zephyr sports 'mong leaves, 

Where Cupid, screened by darkness, hovers 
And Heaven an air of wooing breathes — 

Where, half supprest, the moonlight's gush 

Betrays no tell-tale maiden blush. 

fit the time, when fairies tread 
Gay measures in the leafy bowers, 

Or mirthfully their banquets spread 
Within the corals of the flowers ; 

When elves and sprites their revels keep, 

And care-encnmbered mortals sleep. 

The lover clasps the hand in glove. 
And lowly kneels beside the maiden, 

But vainly strives to tell his love — 
With fears too deep his heart is laden ; 

And she mid vine-leaves slyly seeks 

To hide the blush upon her cheeks. 

Gaze on him, lovers — ^ye who've sought 
To ope the iBtnas of your breast. 

Who've striven to, yet spoken nought 
Of passion which yoor heart oppresed— • 

Gaie on that speechless lover there, 

And feel again thine own despair. 

Gase on him, fhir ones— ye who've felt 
Tour hearts respond to words unspoken- 

Who've waited long for one who knelt 
To break suspense by word unbroken — 

Who've turned aside a blosh to hide — 

Gase and let not your spirits chide. 

Ay, let no chidings from your hearts 
Say that the lover acteth illy, 



42 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



For Capid*8 hero's mast act parts 
That sober minds consider silly; 
And sare, 'tis orthodox to love 
With lips that utter nought, yet moTe. 

Tis done I— the awful word is spoken 1 — 
The murmured vow his lip escapes ! 

He falters low, in accents broken, 
'^ Say, Bet, du you like these 'ere grapes?" 

And echoes back a soft response — 

" YoQ betj Zeke — a right smart chance !" 



From an esteemed contributor we have 
received the following feelingly written 
obituary of a dearly loved child. Bereaved 
parents, alone, can fully sympathise with 
the touching sentiments expressed. 

LiTTLB IvA — "Say not thou art bereaved ! 
there is no sorrow like unto mine I " 

Died — at Sacramento, Iva, daughter of 
B. C, and Laura C. W., aged one year and 
five months. 

Beautiful, oh 1 how beautiful and lovely 
was this little bud of promise, so suddenly 
torn from the parent vine. But the other 
day, there was joy and happiness in the un- 
broken home circle, to which little Iva was 
as a radiant sunbeam brightening a cloud- 
less sky — and all around was light, and 
love, and beauty. Little did the fond ones 
dream that a night of such darkness would 
so soon o'ercast the bright horizon of their 
life. 

A sweet angel was Iva— everybody loved 
h er . Her beau tiful face, and pleasant ways 
won yoar heart ai once; and, as you looked 
into her soul-lit eyes, yon were reminded 
of the picture of a cherub. But Death, 
the unwelcome viBttant to all, claimed her 
for his own, and ere we were aware, the 
awful truth of his dread presence — so steal- 
thy was his tread — ^flashed suddenly upon 
our bewildered minds, and the pure unspot- 
ted soul had passed away from earth. 

Ohl Father 1 forgive us, if in such an 
hour as this, impious thoughts should 
crowd themselves upon our selfish hearts : 
there are so few in the world to love us, 
and surely there was room enough on this 
great earth of Thine for this UtUe one to 



live unmolested by the fell destroyer I It 
is so hard to " pass under the rod," and 
realize that blows g^iyen from heaven are 
bat to strike down the " tares and weeds of 
dark luxuriance" that grow about oor 
hearts. In calmer mood, we kiss the hand 
that smote so heavily, and crave His pity 
and forbearance who afflicts not willingly 
the children of His love. 

A perfect picture of health was this lit- 
tle one, and so sudden was her death, it 
left no impress upon her beau tifol features; 
and as she lay in her little white coffin, 
with the pure buds of spring nestling 
around the fair waxen form, she seemed 
like an angel sleeping among the flowers , 
too dainty and life-like to be hid away in 
the green earth. 

Oh yel who love so deeply, clasp not 
so closely your idolized ones, the grave is 
not &r distant, and in a few days the earth 
will have made room for them in her warm 
embrace. The green fields lie around, and 
the vernal winds are piping of the flowery 
summer-time; the earth is full of music, 
and the sky is lost in an eternity of blue ; 
but " mid the deep shadows of this night 
of woe," sky and earth are alike joyless to 
the hearts of the afflicted parents, whose 
chief joy and delight hath fled never to re- 
turn. The voice of nature is sweet, but 
the songs of the Angels in the fields of 
Bethlehem were not sweeter to the shep- 
herds than the little soft voice of Iva was 
to us ; who, but one week ago was crow- 
ing with wild delight, and lisping her first 
little words of infantile sweetness. 

Sweet be thy slumbers, precious dust ; 
sl^ep on thou young inheritor of heaven's 
bliss ; sleep sweetly until the arch-angel's 
trump breaks in upon thy dream. There 
is a shrine within thy little grave, where 
we can hoard away our holy love ; and we 
pray that the pure heart-felt devotion,which 
is born in sorrow, and the religious lustre 
which adorns a humble christian's life, may 
not fade away under the smiling auspices 
of fortune and pleasure. Look up, ye af- 
flicted parents; cast thy cares upon one 
who has said "As the waters of Noah 



OUR SOCIAL GHAIB. 



43 



iball BCTer retarn to cover the earth, so the 
cofcaani of my peace shall never depart 
fr«m thee.'* Biasii. 

To this we cannot resist the temptation 
of giving the following stanzas from the 
bsMtifal poem h/ T. B. Aid rich, entitled 

fiiTc jon not heard the poets tell 

Hov came the daintj Babie Bell 

Into this world of oars 7 

The gates of Heaven were left ajar : 

With folded hands and dreamy eyes. 

Wandering out of paradise, 
She mw this planet, like a star, 

Hong in the pnrple depths of even — 
lu bridges, running to and fro, 
iKtr which the white-winged Angels go, 

Bearing the holy Dead to Heaven ! 
Sh« touched a bridge of flowers — those feet, 
Sj Hght they did not bend the bells 
<>f the celestial asphodels t 
Tbey fell like dew upon the flowers 

And all lh« air grew strangely sweet 1 
And thns came dainty Babie Bell 
Into this world of oars. 



It casM npott ns by degrees : 

We saw its shadow ere it fell, 

Tte knowledge that oor Qod had sent 

HiS messenger for Babie Bell. 

We shnddered with nnlanguaged pain, 

And all onr hopes were changed to fears, 

Aad all oar thoughts ran into tears 

luke sunshine into rain. 
We cried aload in oor belief, 

*K), smite as gently, gently, Ood ! 

Teach ns to bend and kiss the rod. 
And perfect grow through grief." 
Ah, how we loved her, Qod can tell ; 
Her little heart was cased in onrs : 

Oor haarU are broken, Babie Bell I 



Chsal sue JittsCc. 

''At prsaant onr notions of music are so 
wy uBcartnin that we do not know what 
it is w<a do lika, only in general we are 
tnasported with anything that is not Bng- 
Gsh : so It be of a foreign growth-^let it 
W ItaUaa, French, or High Dutch>-it is the 
■•etUag. la short, our English music 
M ^eite rooted out, aad nothing is yet plant- 
•AmitostMd." 

8o wrolo Addison, mora than a hundred 
?«fi ego aad then b an odd fuiUbUity 



in his words that fits the present time as 
neatly as possible. Surely, if ever there 
was a musical community, it is ours. Some 
time ago dancing swayed a rival scepter, 
but its reign is no longer an absolute mon- 
archy ; we still dance, but without giving 
up our life to that one grace, and existing 
only in the feel and to the sound of the 
Masourka, Yarsottvienne, E8meralda,&c., as 
we formerly did. We now ascend scales, 
we quaver, we vocalize, and music is in the 
ascendant. A melodious tarantula seems 
to have bitten us all, and we trill and chirp 
and cultivate our voices. Not that we have 
produced the result that sanguine expecta- 
tion might have desired ; for, in considera- 
tion of the number of music-schools, the 
large class of pupils, and the money expend- 
ed, one would naturally suppose San 
Francisco to be a perfect nest of nightin- 
gales, the melody of whose voices would 
constantly ascend " like a cloud of sweet 
rich sound. " On the contrary the study 
of music apparently incapacitates its vota- 
ries for using their voices, and their being 
not of, or in practice, ( I believe it is of 
very little importance which ) is the unfail* 
ing excuse with which they decline singing 
for the mere pleasure afforded to listeners 
by a sweet, simple, unaffected voice. Some 
of the most beautiful and tender poetry 
ever written has been in the form of songs 
and ballads ; and when requisite tones and 
fine words flow in unison, there can be no 
purer or more delightful treat for the sen- 
ses than in listening to them. But a silly 
speech of a musical critic ( be must have 
been ashamed of it, viewing its effect) de- 
claring that we cannot understand words 
and melody^ once— either one of them 
must be sacrificed— has received such uni- 
versal credit that song-writers of the pres- 
ent day present the musical world with 
words as nearly approaching the nonsense 
to which they are expected to be reduced 
by the music, as is in the nature of Bng- 
lish verse to render— no meaningless sound 
can be beautifuL The great triumph of 
Opera music is the power it possesses in 
expressing delight, grief, fear and passion; 



44 



nUTCniNGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



its thrilling sounds impress the senses like 
cunning pantomime, and with the added 
effect of words become still more powerful. 
If the words bj themselves have no merit, 
thej detract from the melody, but if thej 
have, the union adds to the beauty of each. 
If the music possess words at all, they should 
be as nearly as possible equal to the thrill- 
ing sounds to which they give expression, 
or all the beauty of unity is lost. 

There is something infinitely amusing in 
Addison's fear on seeing an Italian opera- 
singer giving vent in his own tongue to 
wild and excited bursts, lest he should be 
abusing and deriding the company present, 
who look on admiringly, without under- 
standing a single word. But as that lan- 
guage is said to be the natural channel of 
music, and as its sweet liquid syllables 
seem to run naturally into it, it is delight- 
ful enough to listen to the melody and 
take the sense on credit, as three-fourths 
of the people who go to the Italian opera 
mu3t ; they not being familiar with that 
tongue, at least as it is spoken in Italy. 

It were a vain task to sum up the charms 
of music — a work of supererogation ; for, 
after pages of earnest panegyric, a few 
notes from some sweet instrument, struck 
by a skillful hand, or the soft, rich tones of 
a fine voice^ singing some favorite air, will 
make all wordy praise seem faint and weak. 
Still, like everything else, it is only beau- 
tiful in its place ; and when pursuing it as 
a study, to the exclusion of all else , and 
for the purpose of modulating a weak 
wiry voice that heaven only intended for 
the mere use of the owner, it becomes a 
bore indeed. To quote the Spteiator again 
— and he is generally acknowledged pretty 
good authority: '* Music is certainly a very 
agpreeable entertainment, but if it would 
take the entire possession of our ears, if it 
would make us incapable of hearing sense, 
if it would exclude arts that have a much 
greater tendency to the refinement of hu- 
man nature ; I confess I would allow it no 
better quarter than Plato has done, who 
banishes it out of his commonwealth. " 

M. H. 



The gpreat feature for the past month has 
been the New Orleans English Opera Troape 
composed of Miss Rosalie Durand, Hiss 
Georgia Hodson, Miss Ada King, Mrs. Bou- 
dinot, Mr. Lyster, Mr. Trevor and Mr. Boa- 
dinot. With one or two exceptions, the 
Press of this city greeted the first perfor- 
mance of these artists with a most saya^^e 
onslaught, which the public has failed to 
endorse. The severity of the criticisms 
was not lessened by the fact that they were 
uttered in gendtal terms, and without men- 
tion of the points of defect, inducing the 
conclusion that the performances were with- 
out a redeeming trait. Had the company 
been less talented than they really are, or 
less attractive, they would have sunk irre- 
trievably under the attack. The opening 
selection, <'La Sonnarabula," was truly un- 
fortunate ; the music being unsuited to the 
force and capacities of the Troupe, and by 
no means calculated to show them off to 
the best advantage. This was, however, 
not so much the fault of the company as 
the result of circumstance, for their whole 
ripertoire had been inadvertently|left on the 
Isthmus, and they were forced to open with 
whatever they could find in this city. 
Since then they have performed the "Bo- 
hemian Girl,'' the "Child of the Regiment," 
" Don Pasquale " and " Cinderella, " and 
all with steadily increasing success and ef- 
fect. The personal beauty of the ladies, 
their evident desire to please and manifest 
happiness at having pleased ; the fine ac- 
ting of the entire company, the superb man- 
ner in which the pieces have been moun- 
ted, the fullness and excellence of the 
choral a^uncts and the superior quality of 
the orchestra have disarmed criticism and 
established the English Opera Troupe in a 
firm and enriable position in the faror of 
the community. It has been Tery Justly 
observed, that California could not support 
a first-class Opera Troupe. It would be 
folly to expect of San Francisco what no 
city in the United States, or even in the 
world, has ever been able to accomplish 



OUR SOCIAL CnAIR. 



45 



withoai malerial aasistaoce from the gov- 
emmeni or heavj private contributions; 
BCTertheless, the most captious critic can- 
not Cul to appreciate the immense superi- 
eritx of the entertainments furnished by 
the Bo^liflh Opera Company over those we 
have been so long patronising. Burlesques 
and extraTagansas of doubtful propriety, 
■tttsatioD drama] of undoubted immorality, 
thread-bare bloody tragedies, and lugu- 
brioos comedies, with now and then a 
dash of Negro Minstrelsy or a few circus 
aatica, have composed the rational enter- 
taaanMats of oar people for seTeral years, 
aad we are greatly indebted to the Opera 
Troop* for the refreshing and refining 
change they have inaugurated. Miss Du- 
rmad possesses a large share of personal 
beaaty, is an excellent actress, and has a 
clear, bat not powerful, Toice. This lady 
is certainly not an Alboni ; but if she does 
not sing so well, she more than compen- 
Bites by her fine acting and many attrac- 
tions. The imagination is not put upon 
the rack when Sulpice in the *' Child of 
the Regiment " declares " she is divine, '' 
whereas those or kindred words addressed 
to Alboni merely provoke laughter. The 
aadieace should not see Alboni while she 
is singing, whereas they take an evident 
ddtght in looking at Miss Durand. Miss 
Georgia Hodson is likewise very beautiful ; 
of classic &ce and symmetrical figure, with 
a rich, sympathetic contralto voice, but not 
powerfoU this lady has made herself a 
gr«^ favorite. She assumes masculine 
foUa, and renders them with much skill 
sad artistic merit Miss Ada King is also 
a great acquisition to the troupe, and is al- 
ways listened to and seen with pleasure 
Mr. Baodinot, the bauo pro/undo^ is a cap- 
ita] actor. This gentleman possesses one 
of the finest voices for an orator we have 
ever heard, but lacks volume in his sing- 
mg. As a stump-speaker, Mr. Boudinot 
woold be very affective. His deep, rich, 
weU^modalaied voice would wield a potent 
iaflaeace with the multitude. Mr. Trevor, 
the Umarf^ has a sweet and musical voice, 
hot by no means a strong one. This gen- 



tleman is steadily advancing in public fa- 
vor. The trae roU of Mr. Lyster is evi- 
dently in buffo characters, such as "Pom- 
polino " in the opera of *' Cinderella, " 
which was particularly well rendered by 
him. A great deal of credit is due to Mr. 
Maguire, proprietor of the Opera House, 
for the very liberal and elegaot style in 
which the various pieces have been presen- 
ted. It is certainly very pleasing to see an 
array of pretty women in the choir, and to 
know that they perform the parts allotted 
to them with grace and merit. The orches- 
tra has never been surpassed in this city, 
and is probably equal to any other, of the 
same number of pieces, to be found else- 
where. Taken us a whole, the entertain- 
ments given by the English Opera Troupe 
have been eminently successful, and have 
been received with unmistakable pleasure 
by crowded and fashionable audiences. 
The troupe will leave for Sacramento on 
the 27th inst, and will be succeeded by 
Mr. Collins, assisted by Miss Fanny Morant, 
a lady of decided talent, and one, we pre- 
dict, who will become a marked favorite. 
Nothing of importance has transpired in 
our other theatres. M'lle Pitron, the pop- 
ular and pleasing French actress, returned 
from Paris by the last steamer. She is 
the enfante gatit of our French population, 
and will be welcomed back with enthusi- 
asm. 

Vogs* Voilct. 

Ibisu poplin, small plaided,neutra! colors, 
are meeting with special approbation for 
pants; no other change in the cutting, from 
last year's style, than slightly narrower in 
the Ie;;B. 

Cloth jacket, of a color harmonising 
with the pants, (ashes of roses is quite the 
favorite) cut a tight fitting body flaring 
out over the hips loosely, and reaching a 
little lower in the back, somewhat pointed; 
narrow collar turned down, with side lap- 
pells turned completely back, extending 
from the top to the bottom, these are orna- 



46 



HUTCniNaS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



mented with rows of metal buttons set 
close together. The buttons intended for 
fastening are sewed on the under side and 
are laced across with bright silk cord, or 
as is sometimes thought best a piece of the 
staff with eyelets is sewed on to lace this 
cord diamond shaped, which looks very 
pretty oyer the white dickey, now so fash- 
ionable ; the sleeves are plain close fitting 
coat sleeve, with narrow white linen cuffs 
upturned. 

legfjoni f^ot, 
Narrow brim, bound with straw color or 
black galoon with plain straw cord and 
tassel wound three times round the crown 
and tied on the right side, the tassel bare- 
ly falling over the brim. 

^Patent Icat^R Boots. 

The above is adapted to boys of eight to 

twelve years— younger ones will look 

more becomingly dressed in white pants 

loose sitting, and box-plaited on the hips. 

QTtie CorsUsn ioacqut, 
Is handsome and comfortable; made of 
cloth or velvet, is intended to sit rather 
loosely and has but the seams under the 
arms — reaches nearly to the knees and is 
buttoned up the front to the throat; sleeves 
loo9€'tiffhty reaching half way from the elbow 
to the wrist and a little wider at the bot- 
tom ; a wide cuff of gay plaid, left open 
both front and back and bound with the 
material of the sacque ; finish the four cor- 
ners of the cuff with tassel buttons — ^bind 
down the front and around the bottom with 
the plaid of the cuffs. White cambric 
sleeve— ruffled, with double ruffle at the 
neck tied with plaid ribbon about one inch 
wide. 

White straw hat with brim turned up 
all round, and gaiters buttoning up at the 
•ides. 

Sp[oni^Ij{ |[jtcorb of Cnmni (Cbtnis. 

There were in this port, Hay 20th, 26 
ships, 14 barks, 4 brigs and 4 schooners, 
besides coasters, and 68 vessels are repor- 
ted on their way to this port from the Sas- 
tern States. | 



The steamer J. L. Stevens, on the 20th 
of May, carried from this port 420 passen- 
gers and $1,792,727,00 in treasure. We 
were also relieved of over a quarter of a 
million in depreciated foreign coin. 

Three new steamboats are in different 
stages of construction at Steamboat Point. 

The State Treasury contained $5 12,3 18,- 
17 at the close of business May 24th. 

The fair for the benefit of the Sisters of 
Mercy netted $10,500,00. 

The Branch Mint at San Francisco haa 
the capacity for coining $40,000,000, an- 
nually. 

An order has been received by^ a fonndry 
in this city from Pesquiera for four thirty- 
two pound howitzers for the armament in 
northern Mexico. 

The coinage in the Branch Mint for the 
week ending May 30th was $357,000. 

June 1st, the Morning Call entered upon 
the sixth volume. 

Rates of Passage to the Eastern States 
for the past month have been quite uniform 
at $150, first cabin; $90, second cabin; and 
$40, in steerage, although some obtained 
tickets at a slight reduction. 

The Overland Mail, in April, carried, 
from this city 8,328 letters. In May the 
number was increased to 15,240, being an 
advance of more than one hundred per 
cent. 

The amount of treasure shipped per 
Golden Age, June 6th, was $2,375,277,31 
being the largest shipment of the season. 
1,420 passengers left our shores by the 
same steamer. 

The Frazer river mines are looking np t 
The Northerner of May 13th brought down 
$50,000 in dust from Victoria, and the Pa- 
cific of June 5th about $60,000. Some 
one wise in such matters has calculated 
the last shipment is an average of $209, 
per man, for the two months' work. 

The number of letters by Overland Mail 
were, 27th of May, 2,489; the 30th, 2,890; 
June 3d, 1,762; June 6th, 1,635; the 10th, 
4,089; the 14th, 1,393; and the 17th, 2,490, 
making a total of 16,748, showing a grad- 
ual increase in the amount of mail matter 
forwarded by this route. 

Snow fell on the Sierras last winter to 
the depth of thirty-seven feet. 

Our markets this month were teeming 
with luscious strawberries in the greatest 
abundance. 



William Morris aUat Tipperary Bill 
executed for the murder of Doak, on the 
10th of June. 



EDITOR'S TABLE. 



47 



(^)i\iat'B ^uhlt. 



WITH the present number we 
commence our Fonrth Yolume. 
The beginning of a new Tolame 
is geaerallj allowed to be an erent which 
brings readers and pnblishers in closer 
friendlj eommnnion — ^when the former are 
gratified with pleasing words and confiden* 
tial disclosures, and the latter make the 
most enticing promises for the future ; and 
we shall not make the present occasion an 
exception to the general rule. 

To OS, kind readers and friends of the 
Msgaaitte, the relation of the past three 
jcars has been one of unbroken agreeable- 
aess ; the manj friendlj words of approyal 
sad aaeonragement hare come to us like 
the gentlo tones of loyed ToiceS| and we 
hare found our Magazine a means of in- 
creasing to a rast extent that circle of warm 
hearted, generous friends whose numbers 
caa nerer be too great And we look to 
the fbture with no desire for more happi- 
aess in onr kindlj relations, than has been 
offered by the past— except as onr field be- 
eoaea more extended. 

We hare no great promises to make for 
the fiitnre, bnt will simplj saj that we shall 
strive, as CTer, to do the best in our power. 
Ife shall be guided in our endearors by a 
determination to select whatever we think 
will be most pleasing and acceptable to our 
readers. If our Magazine has not contain- 
ed articles of as sterling value or of as 
■ach literary merit, as those of Eastern 
Reviews and Magazines, it has not been 
becaasa we would not gladly have given 
them ; they were not within our reach. — 
Bat many papers of really great ralue and 
literaiy excellence have appeared in our 
pages, and the most enthusiastic admirer 
of Calilbmia cannot but commend the zeal 
aad labor which has been exhibited in 
living to the world fkcts and illustrations 
coaaecied vrith the history, scenery and re- 
sources of onr State. 

If there are homes — and we would fond- 
ly deem there are— where the California 



Magazine has become as a part of the ne- 
cessaries of the family-circle, and been 
shrined among their household-gods — 
where gentle eyes anxiously look forward 
every month for its arrival, and hail its 
coming with gladness — whose sympathetic 
hearts trace its pages, and find in its famil- 
iar appearance deeper feelings and tenderer 
sentiments than the magic letters have ex- 
pressed—who generously overlook its faults 
and find a merit in even the endeavor to 
please; — if there be such homes, our labor 
has its reward; and encouraged by the gen- 
tle tones and warm wishes of such devoted 
friends, we look with bright anticipations 
to the future. 

Thb Fourth of July— the eighty-third 
anniversary of our Independence — is at 
hand, and American patriotism will again 
be jubilant, expend itself in the usual 
amount of burnt powder, buncombe speech- 
es and bad whisky, and be laid aside to 
repose quietly far another twelvemonth. 
Is the national ardor of our people cooling, 
or the glorious spirit which whilom vented 
itself in grand celebrations of this day be- 
coming extinguished? It would seem so, 
at least in San Francisco, where not a move 
has been made to publicly honor the com- 
ing anniversary. There was a time — it is 
treasured among the most vivid recollec- 
tions of our youth— when the Fourth of 
July was a day only equaled by general- 
training — a day long to be remembered by 
youthful hearts for the gorgeous pageant 
of military processions, cannonading, ora- 
tions, gingerbread,and fire-works at night. 
Let us deem that, even if the exhibitions 
of onr patriotic spirit be less general than 
formerly, the flame has not diminished, but 
burns with deeper and steadier force in the 
breasts of our increasing millions of free- 
men. The sarcastic may ridicule and laugh, 
but why, if they can find no worthier way 
to give expression to their feelings, should 
not the boys burn fire-crackers, the men 



48 



nUTCniNGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



drink whisky and the orators make long- 
winded speeches? The "spirit of '76" 
animates them — the same spirit that glowed 
in the patriotic bosoms of those who op- 
posed the veteran soldiers of Europe at 
Lexington, and fought the battles, from 
Bunker Hill to Torktown, which form our 
nation's pride and glory ; and,if ever occa- 
sion shall require, they will go forth to do 
deeds that shall equal in daring those of 
their forefathers. What American heart 
may not feel proud on this day? In the 
Old World unstable dynasties are tottering 
to their fall, and the light of empires g^ows 
faint, but Peace and Prosperity attend as 
hand-maidens upon our favored land, and 
this day our flag floats on the breeze with 
another bright star in its glittering constel- 
lation. All hail, ye glorious Thirty-Three ! 

" Forever float that standard aheetl — 
Where breaths the foe but falls before as, 

With Freedom's soil beneath our feet. 
And Freedom's banner streaming o'er ns f " 



In our last issue, in the course of some 
remarks made in view of the approaching 
election, we stated as our candid belief, 
that the majority of voters were unconcious 
tools in the hands of political tricksters 
and wire-workers. The question natural- 
ly arises, wherein lies the cause of this 
lamentable state of affairs? — and we pur- 
pose to devote a few words to the subject 

It must be apparent to every impartial 
examiner, that the fault has its source in 
the strong party-feelings by which the great 
mass of the people are actuated in their 
political conduct. It is a fact indisputable 
that of late years mere empty sounds — 
names conveying no definite ideas of prin- 
ciples or measures to one-half of those 
whose actions are governed by them — have 
influenced the majority of our people in 
their choices in their sovereign capacity of 
electors. The political opinions of many 
are hereditary — they are thus, or thus, be- 
cause their fathers were so before them ,* 
others have based theirs upon early preju- 
dices; while the number is small indeed 
who have chosen their party afler having 
thoroughly considered and weighed the 



principles of the different factions. A more 
unhappy state of affairs for the welfare of 
a commonwealth eannot easily be imagin- 
ed. By obeying the instincts of blind par- 
ty prejudices, good principles and men are 
often sacrificed, while political intriguers 
and wire-workers, who possess the cunning 
to direct the popular movements, use these 
violent partizan feelings to attain their own 
election and the success of their unworthy 
measures. An earnest desire for the pub- 
lic weal would naturally bespeak an ardent 
zeal for the party which stood as the ex- 
ponent of our views ; but to follow with 
bigoted perverseness a mere name, is un- 
worthy any rational being, and an abuse of 
the high trust confided to us in the right 
of sufi'rage. An eminent essayist, in speak- 
ing of the evils of strong factions, says: — 
'*A furious party-spirit, when it rages in 
its full violence, exerts itself in civil war 
and bloodshed; and when it is under the 
greatest restraints, naturally breaks out in 
falsehood, detraction, calumny, and a par- 
tial administration of justice. In a word, 
it fills a nation with spleen and rancor and 
extinguishes all the seeds of good-nature, 
compassion and humanity." 

To avoid being made the powerless tools 
of designing politicians and kindling a vi- 
olent party-spirit, we should all think for 
ourselves; weigh and compare the relative 
value of principles and men, and vote ac- 
cording to the decision of our judgment, 
and nut be led by the sound of empty 
names shouted by political intriguers. 

Co ConiribotorB anb Aorrrsponbjtnii. 

B. M.-North San Juan. — ^We cannot do it — 
at^least not untiKyou fully explain where 
and by whom it was written. 

Jennie.—'' The Caged Bird Set Free " will 
will hardly do to print. Try again, Jen- 
nie ; the heart that tonceived the senti- 
ments of those lines — imperfect though 
they be — is not destitute of poetry. En- 
deavor patiently to perfect yourself in 
ease and elegance of expression. The 
bird whose regained freedom you sing 
did not mount to the sky at his first at- 
tempt ; and, probably, ns he folded his 
little undisciplined and powerless wings, 
and watched the eagle in his peerless 
flight and the other birds in their free 
and graceful motions, ho felt a kind of 
despair settle in his breast. But he had 
the pinions, and time and practice ena- 
bled him to equal their highest flight 
So, try again, Jennie. 

Several articles received too late for in- 
spection this month. 



HUTCHINGS' 

CALIFOEIilA MAGAZmE. 



VoL.I"V". AUGUST, 1859. 



No. 2. 



THE CALIFORNIA. SILVER FIR, PIOEA BRACTEATA. 

CB^HIS view 



of 



\f a portion of 
** tha Santa 
Lncia monntains, 
■nta Bketcbed onth« 
■pot, bj Mr. Wm. 
P««ble8,uid kind] J 
furuiahed ua b; the 
\ potiteneBsofMr.W. 
J Huiraj.of this city, 
^ Itpreaentaoneof 
I the most iinguUr 
scenes ID this, or 
perhftps any other 
country. These 
mouQt&ina are most 
remarkable for their 
unparalleled eteep- 
Dess; being sharp- 
ened up, without 
the least allowancs, 
Uithe verjlastlim* 
its of the laws of 

We bare chosen 
to direct the atten- 
tioa of the reader 
more particularl j to 
ila charscleristic 
and rare arborea, on 



50 



HUTOHINaS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZmE. 



account of the great scientific and rural 
interest it possesses, in being, so far as 
now known, the sole monopolizer of one 
of the most «beautiful and symmetrical 
Silver Firs in the known world. We re- 
fer to the Picea (or Abies) bradeata. 

We prefer the sectional division of Con- 
ifers into the order Picea ; or those firs 
with erect cones ; a difference readilj re- 
cognized at a great distance. So very 
manifest is this practical distinction, that 
when seen for the first time, the cones 
are apt to be mistaken for birds standing 
upon the branches. 

Picea bracteaia, or the Leajy-hracted 
SUver-Fir, may be technically described 
as follows : — ^Cones, egg-shaped, studded 
with a glistening terebinthenate exuda- 
tion — size as exhibited in drawing ; sit- 
ting down upon the branches ; they are 
densely clustered upon the almost inac- 
cessible tip-top of the tree. Scales some- 
what kidney-shaped, rounded on the up- 
per margin. Bracts, wedge-shaped, three- 
lobed, the middle lobe slender, 1 or 2 
inches long, curved over, somewhat of 
the color and appearance of ordinary 
leaves, the lateral lobes short, barely ex- 
tending beyond the scales. Seeds, wedge- 
shaped, soft and angular; the wing 
qhortish, broad and membranaceous. 

Leaves solitary, two rowed, alternate, 
bright lively green above, two white sil- 
very lines below. The branches are in 
whorls, slender and spreading, the lower 
ones drooping, Trank very slender, and 
as straight as an arrow; commonly 
clothed to the ground, although often 
naked on the lower third ; 2 or 3 feet in 
diameter, 120 feet high. First discover- 
ed by Douglas, on the mountains of the 
Columbia River. (Why have not collec- 
tors been able to find it in this locality? ) 
In Upper California, on the San Lucia 
mountains, it is found at an elevation of 
about 3000 feet above the level of the sea. 

Mr. Murray, in his notes, remarks: 
** This species of Fir was discovered by 



Douglas, and the locality afterwards vis- 
ited by Hartweg, whose notes may be 
seen in the London Horticultural Trans- 
actions. Neither of these eminent botan- 
ists, however, succeeded in obtaining the 
seed. Mr. Lobb, a well known and most 
successful collector, was the first to in- 
troduce this tree into Europe, where it 
caused a great sensation, seedlings only 
a year old, selling as high as $16. 

This trim and beautiful Fir tree grows 
to the hight of two hundred feet, branch- 
ing out from the ground, and maintaining 
throughout, its conic symmetry, with the 
utmost precision; or as Mr. Lobb ex- 
presses it, creating an impression that 
a scientific gardener must have trimmed 
it with his shears. 

The only district in Califomia where 
this tree is found, is the one here repre- 
sented, near the Mission of San Antonio.* 

Or, to be more specific still, we will 
suppose one wbhing to visit this locality. 
Starting, then, from this Mission, we go 
up the San Antonio Creek to an Indian 
Rancheria, (in a littie valley,) called 
" Milpitas ;" thence we take the trail west 
to the sea coast, crossing over a small 
ridge in our route, descending into a little 
valley abounding in grass and water, rare 
camping ground. Here we find the Pinus 
CouUeri. We follow the trail up this val- 
ley until we come abruptly to the end ; 
still on ohr winding way, we keep trail 
up the bluff to the first slope ; here we 
find a fair resting or camping place ; here 
we also observe the Pinus Coulteri^ P. 
Benlhamiana, P. Lambertiana, and Libo- 
cedrus. Along this ridge, about a mile 
or so, our path is conglomerates ; then 
through a forest, in which are a few Picea 
(or Abies) bracteaia. Next we strike a 
slate formation. At the summit^ on oar 
left, looking towards the sea, we observe 
the very deep gorge here represented, 
covered with a variety of vegetation and 

* Will any of our frlendt be kind enough to inform 
ut, if they know of any other loaallty. 



THE CAUTOBNIA SILVER FIB, PICEA BRAOTEATA. 



COVI or TBI PICCA BIACTCATA. 

IDraym flvn Naturt, by A. XiUagg, if. D] 



HUTCmNQS' CALIFORNIA HAQAZIIII. 



traM, unong whioh the mott 
are the P. or {A.) hraeUata. On onr right 
iH a similu gorge, but not bo deep or 
large. The geological formation here ia 
calcareouB, and many fine HpecimenB of 
marble may be found in the gulches. 

Into these obscure and remote recesBeB, 
the Spanish people formerlj drOTe their 
herds, to bide them from the oooaaional 
descent oftheplunderingApachelndiana. 

It affords us much pleasure to ac- 
hnowledge our obligations to Mr. A. F. 
Eeardslej, also a well known and enter* 
prising collector. The heneGcent colleo- 
tora, the naturalists, the artists and jour- 
nalists, who lend wings to science, are 
worth; of all honor. It hae been re- 



marked b; a wise man, a member of the 
English Parliament, "that the divina 
laws of nature are so ezceedinglj com' 
prehensive, that no object — not one — can 
possiblj eiist, which does not hear eoma 
useful relationship to the welfare of every 
indiTidual in an," 

Let none of us, then, in the infancy of 
one age, presume to estimate the bonnd- 
leas pleasnres and uses, that are to flow 
along the golden ages yet to come I 

Do we live in an age, and country , y«t 
too young to see natire nurserymen cul- 
tivating a few of these truly beautiful 
trees for borne use T 

A. Kkllooo, H. D. 



CROSSING THE NORTH FORK OF THE Alt^RICAN RIVER. 



Thia wild and beautiful scene ie situat- 
ed on the north fork of the American 
river, on the direct toad from Auburn, 
via Illinoistown, to Iowa Hill ; and, as 
the traveler descends the northern side 



of the monntun, by an excellent road, 
on an easy grade, and casts his eye to the 
eastward, tall mountain tops that tower 
upward, in rough and uneven grandeur, 
create within him a feeling of wondering 



CROSSING THE NORTH PORK OF THB AMERICAN RIVER. 53 



After paasing the bridge, 
he begine to climb the southern side of 
the moantain, and as he winds his way 
past this ravine, and aroand that rocky 
point, for the most part, upon a preci- 
{»oe of seyeral hundred feet, he looks 
around him and upward, and is filled 
with surprise that even a trail, to say 
D*^iDg of a stage road, could, by any 
poanbility, be built on a bold, precipitous 
mountain of solid slate rock. In some 
places, the inner side bank is forty feet 
in hight above the level of the road, in 
order to obtun a space sufficiently wide 
10 admit a wagon upon it. Of course, 
the eoet of constructing such a road must 
he greal ; and we were informed that 
$35,000 were expended upon this road 
before a wagon oould possibly pass over it. 

Being a toll road, although a large and 
expensive undertaking, it has been, and 
is, a remunerative investment. Even 
while we were ascending, no less than $25 
Must have been taken at the bridge for 
yssgugcirs and teams, at the usual rates. 

Doabtless all such enterprises icre a 
publae benefit^ especially when we take 
ialo the account the difficulties attending 
theiedioos unpleasantness connected with 
traveling over such places before suitable 
eonveniences were established. And who 
4oes not call to mind the wrecks of ve- 
hidesand harness so frequently to be seen 
by tiM way-side ; and the numerous teams 
that were worn down and stalled by ex- 
riesiBS straining to haul a small load up 
the various spurs and ridges of the moun- 
tua, when the pack-saddle was superse- 
ded bj^ the wagon. Besides, as fearful 
oaths seemed to be the only relief to the 
patisnee-tried teamster in his difficulUes, 
we eontend that morality has been the 
i;aia«r by all such improvements — and 
that is no small item in State progress. 
But let us go a little further on to the 
ftoorishing mining town of — 

IOWA HILL, PLACER COUNTY. 

This pictaresque settlement is in the 



centre of an immese pine forest on the 
dividing ridge between the north fork of 
the American river and Indian Cafion, 
about twenty-eight miles from Auburn, 
(the county seat of Placer county,) and 
sixty-three miles from Sacramento city. 
The principal buildings that constitute 
the main street being built on the centre 
of the ridge, follow the course of the 
mountain ; and the mining claims lie on 
either side, and even under a portion of 
the town, so that the water and debris 
that gurgles and rumbles through the 
sluices of the miners flows in opposite 
directions. That of the north-east side 
into the American, and that of the south- 
west into Indian Cafton. 

The discovery and working of the fa- 
mous " Jamison claim,'' first opened in 
1852, caused the forest solitude that then 
reigned here to be broken by the sharp 
clicks from the woodman's axe, so that 
the busy hum and stir of people flocking 
to the new diggings, and engaged in con- 
structing their tents and cabins, told that 
the tide of population was setting hither- 
ward. Presently, shafts were sunk, tun- 
nels commenced, and diggings opened 
that proved of fabulous richness, from 
five to seventeen pounds of pure gold 
being taken daily from a single claim — 
the Jamison. Others, such as the "Ha- 
zel Green," " Sailors," " New York and 
Wisconsin," '*New Orleans," and nu- 
merous succeeding ones proved to be 
nearly as rich. 

The consequence was, that tunnels 
were driven into this dividing ridge on 
both sides, for several miles, and the 
surrounding villages of Independence 
fliU, Roach's Hill, Wisconsin Hill, Bird's 
Flat, and several others, sprung into 
vigorous life, creating the necessity for 
two saw mills and five water ditches. 
The latter named were built at a cost of 
about fifty-five thousand dollars. As soon 
as the first of these was completed, the 
hydraulic prooess of mining was Intro- 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



THB GOLDEN GATE. 



55 



dwad here, utd tha atdes of the ridge 
bcfiB to mdt down before it. 

At Am praMnt time there is a popula- 
tion m sod mronnd torn Hill, of nbont 
L.^00 ; mpportiiig eeTerml hot«la, exprcM 
oSeea *ad banking bouses, uid storM of 
Tanoaa kinda; and Aweekljjounial, en- 
tilled TMe ibfnof, published erei; Satr 
Bid»y Boming, hj B. B. Bonst, editor 
and pK^rietor, knd devoted to the belt 
!• of the town. 



A mile or two abore the towti, on the 
road to Miebigan Ci^, you enter a mag- 
nificent forest of pines and firs, that 
shadow your path for nearly the whole 
diatonoe. We here measured a Douglas 
Spruce (Abies Dougltuii) that was twen- 
ty-four feet six inches in circumference ; 
and a sugar pine [Fimis Lamberliami)OMt 
measured twentj-nine fee 



GOLDEN GATE 



Then aie piobablT but 
eoMpamiTelr, who bare 
thnsi^ the OoMen GaW, tl 



cum* SBI^ AT AIOBOB OM ti 

but fnr penone, 
laTe ever passed 
thnos^ the GoMen GaW, that are famil- 
hr w^ the oripn and meaniog of the 
Maw. the popular idea being that its 
•ane vu loggeated bv the staple mine- 
nlet th« cMintiT— gdd. This is incoi^ 
net, M it waa called the "Golden Gate" 
Wm« the preoiooa metal was disoorered; 
and the Iret time that it was used, 
■oat pttriwblT, was in a work entitled 
*■ A OM^ra^eal Renew of California," 
with a relaliTe map, published in New 

Tvk, in the month of FebniarT, 1&48, by 
CoL J. C. Erenont ; and as gold waa dis- 

ertred mi the 19th of January preced- 



ing, in those daya it would have been 
next to impossible for the oewa to have 
reached the office of publication of that 
work, in time for the name to be given, 
from such a cause. 

The real origin of the name waa fVom 
the excessiTeW fertile lands of the inte- 
rior — especially of those adjacent t« the 
Bay of San Francisco. There may have 
been some "Spiritual 'felegrams" sent 
from Caliromia(^I) to the parent of the 
name, telliDg him of the glorious dawn 



56 



HUTGHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



quarter of the world, in the Golden Age 
aboat to be inaug;urated. We do not say 
that it was so. We do not wish the reader 
to believe it, as oar opinion, that it was 
thus originated ; but in this age of spirit- 
ual darkness — ^we allude to the limited 
knowledge of mental phenomena — we 
start the supposition, in hope that it may 
stir up the spirit of enquiry. This one 
thing is certain, that from whatever 
source the name " Golden Gate" may 
have, originated, it was most happily sug- 
gestive in its character. Having dwelt at 
some length upon the name, we will now 
more briefly describe the spot. 

That it is the gateway or entrance to 
the magnificent harbor of San Francisco, 
every one is well aware. The centre of 
this entrance is in latitude 122'' 3(K W., 
from Greenwich. On the south of the 
entrance is Point Lobos (Wolves' Point) 
on the top of which is a Telegraph Sta- 
tion, from whence the tidings of the ar- 
rival of steamers and sailing vessels are 
sent to the city. On the north side is 
Point Bonita, (Beautiful Point) readily 
recognised by a strip of land running out 
towards the Bar, on the top of which is 
a Light-house, that is seen far out to sea, 
on a clear day, but seldom before that on 
the Farallone Islands, some twenty-seven 
miles west of Point Bonita. 

In front of the entrance is a low circu- 
lar sand-bar, almost seven miles in length, 
but on which is sufficient water, even at 
low tide, to admit of the largest class of 
ships crossing it in safetv — except, possi- 
bly, when the wind is J)Iowing trom the 
north-west, west, or south-east; at such a 
time it is scarcely safe for a very large 
vessel to cross it at low tide. 

From Point Bonita to Point Lobos the 
distance is about three and a half miles ; 
and between Fort Point and Lime Point 
(just opposite each other) the narrowest 
part ot the^ channel, and the " Golden 
Gate " proper, it is 1,777 yards. Here 
the tide flows out at the rate of about six 
knots an hour. 



THE SOLANO MINERAL SPRINGS. 



BT 4. A. BANKIN. 



Among the various wonders that Nature 
has so lavishly bestowed upon California, 
but few are more deserving of notice than 
her Mineral Springs. As though inten- 



ded that nearly every physical ill should 
be provided with an antidote, healing 
waters are made to gush forth from the 
bowels of the earth, and bubble np on 
the tops and sides of mountain chains. 
In these, the counties of Solano and Napa 
seem to be the most favored. 

The Solano Springs — ^to the description 
of which I shall confine my attention 
at the present time— are situated about 
five miles north of Suisun City, at an 
elevation of about eleven hundred feet 
above the level of the sea, and in the midst 
of the most beautiful and most romantic 
of scenery. For more than half the dis- 
tance from Suisun the road runs across 
the level valley, that, in the spring-time, 
is carpeted with green turf, variegated 
with wild flowers of every hue. Groves 
of dark-green live-oaks, with an occa- 
sional farm house peeping from among 
the oak-openings, and here and there 
cattle and sheep quietly reposing, or 
eagerly feeding, displaying a scene of 
beauty, that I have seldom seen sur- 
passed: and, as I journeyed through it, in 
the peaceful serenity of the evening, I 
could almost imagine myself again in the 
beautiful Chilian vales of Umui and 
Dormida. 

Ascending the steep, but smoothly slop- 
ed and gently rounded hills, dotted with 
trees, a panorama of vast extent and 
great beauty is rolled out before you. To 
the south-east, a. broad plain extends as 
far as the eye can reach ; to the south' 
Monte Diablo is the crowning point of a 
long chain of hills ; to the east, and north- 
east, the shimmering tops of the snow- 
covered Sierra Nevadas, shine through the 
deepening haze, with a richer glow, than 
the glittering gold that is hidden deep 
beneath their icy crest. 

Arriving at the " Empire Spring," and 
looking down the caflon, is the ** White 
Sulphur Spring." Before going further, 
perhaps I ought to mention that there are 
several mineral springs in this chain of 



THE SOLANO MINERAL SPRINGS. 



The CoQgreBS Spring ii but a short dis- 
tance from the Empire, and yeij much 
reeembles the latter, escept that the e»- 
oapemeat of gas is leHti. 

The Seltier Spring is on the west side 
of the di?ide, OTerlooking the upper por. 



bitu, Um prinoipal of which Mem to he 
tte Enpin, While Sulphar, SelUer and 
Cm^iOM The former is located near 
tfa* haad of a Taruifl, on the soath side of 
Soda Spring CalioD. Thu spring fur- 
mAm % eoondeiable Tolume of water, 
that iwaaa in a jet, with a gnrg- 
iiag BoiM at interrals of fiom one 
ta two rw«ty*« The nnmerons bub- 
Um that riM to the surface would 
■-*'-«ft the pnasnre of a larger 
SAoaal td carbonio aoid gas in this, 
thMinasfoftlMolbar springs; bat 
a cai«fal analjiia bai fuled to con- 
InaiL 

Tba WbiU Sulphur Spring, aa I 
han Mid, ia near the foot of the 
<akB. aan* 200 feat above the bed 
of lbs Bnall stream that runs thro' 
th* latter. The flow of watar from 
ifaii spring ia ^aall, probably not 
Mora than from tbrM to fonr gal- 
loaa, daOj, hut it iahigfaljimpreg- 
aaied with salphnr, the imell of 
wkieb M perceptible for some dia- 
toDoa. rnm this apriug oan be sMn 
the &moa* Soiaon marble qnanj. a soimb ni Tsa foot biu* or asisin tahmt. 



58 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



tion of Soiflun Valley. Its pellucid and 
sparkling waters are equal in taste to the 
best soda water ever drank, eclipsing, in 
flavor at least, the more celebrated Con- 
gress and Empire. Each of the Springs, 
with the exception of the White Sulphur, 
issue from the fissures of a light, porous, 
calcareous rock, of singular formation. 

These mineral waters have been known 
to, and eren the resort of, native Califor- 
nians, for more than twenty years, but 
they have received but little attention 
until recently; when the following care- 
ful analysis of two of the springs, by Dr. 
Hewston, of San Fraooisco, discovered 
the valuable medicinal properties they 
contained. 





CongTCM. 


Snipin. 


Specific Gravity, 


1.00^6 


1.0132 


Iodide of Potassium, 


0.24 


1.64 


Chloride of Potassium, 


O.YI 


1.66 


Chloride of Sodium, 


26.90 


90.83 


Carbonate of Soda, 


6.67 


14.38 


Biborate of Soda, 


2.67 


6.44 


Carbonate of Lime, 


6.04 


4.46 


Carbonate of Magnesia, 


1.36 


4.67 


Carbonate of Iron| 


0.08 


0.09 


Alumina, 


0.12 


trace 


Selicai 

• 


0.20 


0.40 


Dry Solid Matter in 1 pint, 


45.00 


124.47 



THE INDUSTRIAL SCHOOL OF SAN 
FRANCISCO. 



Free Carb.Acid Ga8,cnb. in 33.735 26.297 

Their value will be the hotter appreci- 
ated by the perusal of the following note 
from Drs. I. Rowell and B. A. Sheldon, 
and with which I shall dose this des- 
cription : 

" We have carefully examined the re- 
sults of Dr. SLewston's analysis of the 
waters of the Congress and Empire Spmgs 
and believe them possessed of remedial 
virtues superior to any other of the vaunt- 
ed waters of California, and equal to 
any in the world. Their Tonic, Altera- 
tive, Antacid and Aperient qualities, 
render them invaluable, when judiciously 
administered, in the treatment of various 
chfonio afiections.'^ 



" This institution, designed for the re- 
formation and care of idle and dissolute 
children, as also those convicted of crime, 
was established by an act of the Legisla- 
ture, passed April I5th, 1858. It provi- 
ded that the necessary funds for the erec- 
tion of the buildings should be ndsed by 
an enrollment of life and annual mem- 
bers, and when a fund of $10,000 had 
been so realized, then the Board of Su- 
perrisors were directed to appropriate 
the sum of 120,000 from* the city treasury 
towards that object The act also provi- 
ded, that upon the organisation of the 
school, a further appropriation of $1,000 
per month should be made by tiie Board 
of Supervisors, for the care and mainten- 
ance of the children and the salaries of 
its officers. 

So deeply impressed were our citizens 
with the urgent necessity of such an in- 
stitution, that sixty life members and 
four hundred and thirty-tiiree annual and 
contributing members enrolled them- 
selves at once ; and the sum of $10,^0 
having been raised in that way, the ap- 
propriation by1;he city was made, thus pla- 
cing $30,850 at the disposal of the Board. 

The act fixed the number of managers 
at seventeen ; fourteen of them to be elec- 
ted by the members of the department, 
and the other three to be appointed by 
the Board of Supervisors from their own 
body. The officers of the department 
and the chief officers of the school are made 
amenable to the general laws of the State 
relating to misdemeanor in office, and the 
secretary, treasurer, and superintendent 
and his deputy, are required to enter into 
bonds for the faithful discharge of their 
duty. By these wise provisions, the insti- 
tution is invested with many of the useful 
features of private charity, while, as a 
brandi of the municipal government, its 
affairs and the conduct of its officers are 
subjected to. public scrutiny. 



THB INDUSTRIAL SCHOOL OF SAN FRANCISCO. 

Upoo tb* eteetion of tha Board, steps 
weT« ■( oooe tekan to select & proper sitA 
for Um inatitation. la this (ome diSoal- 
17 wss «Eperiaae«d, bat fin&llf the Boud 
d«teniiiii«d to adopt the lot punihased 
«onM jflftTs ^o bj the city for a House 
of Befngn. Tba tract oonluna one han- 
dred meit», moat of it good, arable land, 
and Eas about Htb and a half milea to 
tba aooth of tba citj. on tbe San Joae 
Ttmd. Th* prodaca of thie land will eup- 
pi;- tba booM, and parhapa in time jield 
aoaaa ineona. Tba building b placed 
near tba middle of the tract, on a gentle 
■k>p« towards tbe aaat, and oommanda » 
efaarming view of tbe mrroandiDg oouu- 
trj. On tbrae aides, tbe elevated billa 
at a distaooa of Uiree or foor milee anr- 
ro«Bd h in • graeefol curve, while direct- 
ly in front lie tbe broad expanse of the 
b>j, and tba wall-defliied coaat range, 
with its hnraring peak of Honte Diablo. 

la Mlopting a plan, tbe Board bad be- 
fan tbam deaeriptioDa of numerous build- 
inip intMtdad for tba same purpoia in 
otber atiaa, and tbej aeleetad that one 
wfaidt ezparianee had shown to be fittest 
in vwmj napect Tbe daeigns 
disva andar instmctions from the 
b; Mr. B«ab«n Clarke, and the oontract 
WM awarded to Mr. J. J. Denny for the 
•TactKMofaeenter building and one wing, 
at Ifaa aaaa of (23,000. . In eonaeqnenca 
of tba eontinned rains of the past winter, 
tba bnldings ware not finisbad as soon 
as tba Board bad hoped for, bntthe slow- 
er pfOgresi has reaalted in the better 
work, na building is Roman in archt- 
leetors^ and oonatructed of atone in the 
baaaaasn^ and brick in tha other atoriea. 
Tha eeotoa building is forty-flTe feet bj 
Ifty -eeranfaet, and oondsts of two stories 
and a basemaoL The higfat from the 
giDUBd Hne to the top of the eomioe L 
lUrty-m^ feet, and to the top of the 
belUttFwar Uly-siz feat Tha basement 
piDij ia ten feet high, and oontaina the 
cSeen* dining loou, the kitehao, fbnr 



closets, two store rooms, two serrants 
rooms, and halls eight and ten feet wide, 
extending through tbe building. The 
principal story is fi>arteen feet in bight, 
and containa two rooma sixteen feet by 
twenty feet, two fifteen feet by twenty 
feet, two seren feet by fifteen feet, and a 
front hall eight feet wide, and a back 
hall ten feet wide, in which latter is 
placed tha sl^rs. A transrerse hall, 
five feet font inches wide, leads to the 
wings. This etery ia deToted to the of' 
Seers of the tnatitution. 

The aecond Story is twelve feet in 
bight, and is intended for the apart- 
mente of the anperintendent and other 
resident officers, and eontuna a bath 
room and the necessary oloaeta. Tbe 
plan contemplates two wings of similar 
design and finish. The eoutbem, how- 
arer, ia the only one yet bailL The hight 
of tbe winga ia twenty-nine feet from the 
ground line to the top of tha oomiea. 
The extreme sonthern part of the wings 
is twenty-three feet by fifty-nine fee^ 
and two atoriea high. The first atory, 
fourteen feet high, contains the dining 
room of the papils, twenty-one fbet by 
thirty-three feet, pantry, washing room 
and water oloaeta for the puplia. The 
seoond story of this part of the wing is 
twelve feet bi^, and oontaina tba boa- 
^tal wards, bath rooms, elo. That part 



60 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



of the wing connecting the southern part 
just described with the main building, is 
one story high, with six windows on each 
side, extending the full hight of the 
wing. In the interior of this stands the 
dormitory portion, built of brick, eight- 
een feet by fifty-one feet six inches, three 
stories high, and each story containing 
sixteen dormitories, which are five feet 
six inches by seven feet six inches. The 
dermitories face outwards towards the 
walls of the building. A corridor four- 
teen feet vnde, and open to the roof, sur^ 
rounds the dormitories, which, on the 
second and third floors, open upon gal- 
leries protected by iron railings. The dor- 
mitories are ventilated through the doors 
and the roof, and each gallery is connect- 
ed with a wash room and water closets. 
The galleries are approached by the 
staircases at each end. 

The institution was inaugurated on 
the 17 th May last, with appropriate re- 
ligeous services by the Rev. Dr. Ander- 
son, and an address by Col. J. B. Crock- 
ett. 

The Board have elected Frederick Hen- 
nell, Superintendent, and George H. 
Peck, Teacher, who will also act as De- 
puty Superintendent for the present. 
Mrs. Hennell will act, without salary, as 
Matron, until a regular election." 

The above concise history and descrip- 
tion of the Industrial School, for the city 
and county of San Francisco, from the re- 
port of the first Board of Managers, will 
show how this institution came to have 
*'a local habitation and a name." 

A few days ago, in order to inspect the 
building, and ascertain the working of 
the system employed, and the present con- 
dition of an institution established &om 
motives so purely philanthropical, and so 
glowingly inaugurated, we paid it a visit, 
and regret to say that we were somewhat 
disappointed. The situation is excellent ; 
the building, externally, is prepossessing; 



and some of its internal arrangements 
are admirably adapted to the noble aim 
and end of its generous founders ; but 
after passing into the sleeping quarters 
of the boys, and looking at the iron-bar^ 
red windows, and the little brick cells 
with small iron gratings in the doors, the 
first impression was, "this is more like 
a prison than an 'Industrial School.'" 
It is true that several of the youthful in- 
mates have sought to make their little 
cells as inviting as possible by pasting 
engravings iVom illustrated papers on the 
wall — and even these, on the morning of 
the day of our visit, some crusty and self- 
important personage of the old fogj 
school requested that "them things" 
should be " torn dovni." 

The antiquated and exploded idea of 
*' ruling with a rod of iron" seems, un- 
fortunately to have found its way into 
this institution ; and all the angel arts 
and elevating tendencies of such agen- 
cies as taste, refinement, physical and 
mental amusement, mechanical concep- 
tion and employment, and a thousand 
other progressive influences, with all their 
happy effects, are, as, yet, excluded. 

At 5} o'clock, A. M., they are called 
up, and from that time to half past six 
they are preparing for breakfast ; inune- 
diately after that meal is over, they are 
taken out to work — not at any light, 
mechanical .business, forsooth, but to use 
a pick and shovel in grading the hill at 
the back of the building; such labor 
that is not only much too heavy for their 
strength, but in which a couple of Irish- 
men would do more in half a day than 
the entire corps of twenty-two boys, (the 
present number in this institution,) could 
perform in a whole week. At noon, din- 
ner is served up ; from one o'clock to half 
past -two, they are employed at picking 
and shoveling, same as in the morning ; 
at three o'clock they go to school until half 
past five ; supper is given at six ; at seven 
o'clock they again go to school until half 



THE GREAT CONDOR OF CALIFORNIA. 



61 



pftFl eight; and at nine thej are sent to 



There are also three girls here, who 
are allowed to perform any kind of em- 
ployment in accordance with their tastes 
and wishes, under the supervision of the 
matron. 

Now we ask, — and we do it anxiously 
and in the kindest and most forbearing 
fpirit* — **How is it possible that, with 
taeh a routine of daily employment, they 
can possibly be improved in morals, and 
which is the great and laudable aim of 
the founders of the institution V There 
U no gymnasium ; no workshop ; no suit- 
able play-ground, so that now they are 
all haddled together in the basement 
f tory, in front of their cells, during the 
little time allowed them for leisure. In- 
deed, they are made to feel by far too 
much that they are juvenile prisonerSf 
rmiher than boys and girls who are placed 
there, by a generous public, for their 
physical, mental, and moral improve- 
menC This should not be, and we earn- 
eatiy commend the subject to the careful 
investigation of the Board of Managers. 

TliS GREAT CONDOR OF CALI- 
FORNIA. 



BT ALIXAUDBt 8. TAYLOR. 



[ ConHimed fmm yage 22.] 

Tbe minute descriptions which Audu- 
boii flMkes in his note on this bird, at page 
243« following Douglas' memoranaum, 
%$ ^vkM very nearly with our own obser- 
vatiofM on the living animal, or when re- 
cently killed. The exceptions are in the 
MDgolar elongated diamond-shaped band 
%A feathers (on a white skin) wnich cov- 
m tbe crown of the head of tbe male 
Itrd, coming down before the eyes, over 
the Mdes of the bead or chops; — the^ 
wualt hnM no wek marks, but its head and 
»^ck«akin are all of acopperish dark olive, 
and pfetty Well eoverea with feathers. 
Tbe wing of the female in five specimens 
I have seen, living and dead, always has 
the while band across the under part of 
tbe wia^ and this white band has a line 



of mottled, dusky spots in the middle— 
a fact which can be easily proven with a 
glass (which I have often done) on a clear 
day, when the two sexes are seen soaring 
together in the air, at cestain seasons. — 
These evident differences have been left uf^ 
explained (so far as we have been able to 
read) from tbe^ear 1779 to.the year 1859, 
and often causm jfoonfusion among scien- 
tific naturalists and amateurs, as to 
whether there might not be another spe- 
cies of the California Condor in existence, 
north or south. It is plain that the spec- 
imen procured by Dr. J. K. Townsend in 
Oregon (about 1836) and noted by Audu- 
bon in 1839, was a female — " the young 
individual" mentioned by him on the 
last-mentioned page, answered, in colors, 
exactly to a female specimen examined 
in 1855, by Dr. Ora and myself, and 
heretofore detailed. Audubon's specimen 
from Ibwnsendt were as follows : Length 
to end of tail, 48 inches ; bill, along the 
ridge, 4 inches ; vnng, from flexure, 32 
inches ; tail, 16 inches ; tarsus, 4 inches; 
middle toe, 4 inches ; its claw, 1 9-12 in. 
Audubon also says the iris of the eye is 
hasel. In ten birds I have seen killed, of 
both sexes, they were of a light pink or 
carmine. Another specimen mentioned 
in the aforesaid 5th volume, and likely 
the Condor figured in his splendid paint- 
ed engravings, was from Douglas' speci- 
mens in the London Museum, measured 
55 inches from head to end of tail ; bill, 
along the ridge, 4f inches ; wing, from 
flexure, 34 inches ; tail, 16 inches : tar- 
sus, 4| inches ; hind toe, 1 5-12 inches ; 
its claw, 2 inches. 

Bonaparte, in his American Ornitholo- 
gy, Vol. 4, — Edinburgh, 1831 — says of 
this bird, that '* it was introduced to the 
notice of naturalists by Mr. Mensies, who 
brought a specimen from California in 
1795, and deposited it in the British Mu- 
seum." Dr. Archibald Menzies was the 
surveyor of Vancouver's English expe- 
dition, which surveyed the Coast of Cal- 
ifornia and north-west America, in 1792, 
and had also served under Capt. Cook in 
1770-75, and carried to Europe the first 
specimens of natural history from our 
present Territories on the Pacific ; he af- 
terwards obtained a ^roat reputation in 
the scientific world, lie died in Ireland, 
only a few years after the discovery of 
California gold, at the vigorous Eldorado 
ageoof a ninety genarian, a man held in 
the highest esteem among his friends and 
countrymen, as well as by learned men. 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA HAQAZINE. 



THE GREAT CONDOR OF CALIFORNIA. 



63 



TIm fint deacription of this bird given 
to the world, seeins to have been made 
bT Dr. Geofree Shaw, in his Naturalist's 
MLsocJlaDj <?1779 or 1789, probably from 
Mcniias, on his retorn from Cook's voy- 
age, (il is difficult to say, exactly, as 
then is ten years difference in the aates 
</ this work, as quoted in the 9th Vol. 
October, 1858, of Pacific Rail-road Re- 
puvts.) The full figures of the bird seem 
to have been first made by Audubon about 
1 ^^^ from stuffed specimens in his grand 
lUnstrated work on the Birds of America, 
a eopy of which may be seen in the San 
Fraociseo Mercantile Library — and one 
alflo to be found in Gray's Genera of 
BirdSy published in London, 1844-49 — 
as statea in the Rail-road Volume above 
qo^jted, boih^ daubiles3,fram dried sped- 
n^fmt. The California Condor has been 
called by ScienUfic Naturalists, Sarco- 
raai^aa Californianus — ^Vulture Califor- 
ttisBiis— Cathartes Califomianus-Vulture 
Ciiombianns-— Catiiartes yulturinus,{and 
for aoght we know, many other latin 
naiaes. In California it is known as Buitre 
Aonm-Qmllinaso Grande, in Spanish-the 
American hunters and rancheros in Cal- 
if ^nua, also call it Vulture, and Condor, 
red-beaded and yellow-headed Vulture. 

It remains only to say that preserved 
fpeeiinens of the California Condor are 
D"W, (^1859,) as we are informed, to be 
f.ond m the Museum of the Smithsonian 
InvtitQte, Washinj^n; in the Museum 
• f the Philadelphia Academy of Natural 
S'ienee; in the Museum of the Califor- 
tua Aeademy of Science, San Francisco, 
and. we believe, that of Stockton also ; 
in £o£hukd, in the British Museum^ and 
itiB .nasenrn of J. A. Gumev, Norwich, 
I whidi is said to be one of toe most val- 
L«&ble collections of Raptorial Birds, or 
htrde of prey, in Europe,) and in the 
Miisenm of the Garden of Plants, Paris. 
The iwo English Museums contain spec- 
imeoA, male and female, full grown, and 
aoeosBpanied by skeletons of the bird, 
which were forwarded by the writer from 
C«l'ifoniia, to Mr. W. in 1853, to more 
fully clear up the doubts among natural- 
ists in Europe, and to add to the valua- 
ble ooUedion of an honored friend, whose 
•cieotifie tastee he had the pleasure to 
rratily with specimens of the veritable 
C*jo/dar of California. The eggs of the 
bird have been much sought after by 
hunters and vaqueros, to supply the de- 
mmad of Museums at home and abroad, 
bo:, as jet| as far as we know, without 



success, from their extreme scarcity, and 
the difficult and dangerous access to the 
haunts of the bird. The diversitite of 
descriptions, opinions and names of these 
two distingnisned giants of the feathered 
kingdom of the Pacific Americas, among 
learned writers and scientific men, may 
well cause a smile with literaries and 
readers, at the empiricism and uncer- 
tainties of science. It is even not yet 
known, only surmised, that the Condor 
of California is an inhabitant of the 
country of the Great Buffalo Prairies, at 
the eastern bases of the Rocky Moun- 
tain chain, where there is such abundant 
food for them. The buffalo itself is as- 
serted never to have come west of the 
Rocky Mountains, at least as far as the 
California Snowy Range, though in De- 
cember, 1858, the Territorial Enterprize, 
printed at Genoa, Carson Valley, is in- 
formed by a correspondent, that one was 
seen in that vicinity at the Eastern de- 
clivities of the Sierra Nevada, quietly 
browsing^ on his daily greens of good 
nass. There is an old tnidition, as we 
have been told, amone some of ihe Cali- 
fornia Indian tribes, uiat the buffalo was 
once numerous in our El Dorado. And 
we see no reason to doubt it. They may 
have oome over the Nevadas after a suc- 
cession of very mild seasons. In Van- 
couver's ezpecution, in 1602, an animal 
is described at Monterey, which can be 
hardly anything else but a buffalo. In 
none of the works spoken of in the fore- 
going notes, have we seen mention made 
of faithful portraits being taken from 
nature of the California Condor, nor even 
of the Chilean Condor — those of Audu- 
bon and Shaw, of the California bird, 
were from stuffed specimens in London, 
or Philadelphia, and of course can be 
worth but verv little as representatives 
of true life. Now, as the art of painting 
animals has obtained great celebrity in 
later years, and occupied the life-long 
labors of such artists as Audubon, Rosa 
Bonhem, Landseer, Duncan, and the 
most celebrated of those of France, Ger- 
many and the United States, how is it 
that none of our numerous painters of 
San Francisco— and it may he confessed 
that works of real merit have been exe- 
cuted by California artists, irhich would 
do honor to older countries — ^how is It we 
say, that none of them have been aUe 
to spare time to take accurate portraits of 
the male and female Condor or onr State T 
The birds may often be found in the vi- 



64 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



cinity of San Mateo, near the peak called 
on the County Map of San Francisco, 
Sierra de AuraSj or where the offal of the 
butchers is thrown out. We can say, for 
one who knows, that such paintings from 
nature by competent artists, (who ought 
to be bird bitten) would sell at most re- 
munerative prices — but more particular- 
ly with the accompaniment of the female 
bird, and, if possible, the young and 
eggs. Europe and the Atlantic cities 
would show plenty of purchasers of such 
•works, as persons of wealth and taste 
abound there ready to purchase all paint- 
ings of merit, from nahire, of the birds 
and animals of California — particularly 
the 'larger and more celebrated animals, 
Condors, Eagles, Grizzlys, Elks, etc., 
as Eufope nor America does not, at ikis 
late period, posses portraits of them 
from life, by good painters. I fancy one 
wants to see what good painting is — let 
him examine the plate of the Mocking 
Bird and Rattlesnake in Audubon's work, 
at the Mercantile Library. One of the 
most celebrated, but profoundly painful 
pictures of the last twenty years of the 
French School, was an after-battle scene, 
with the birds of ill omen preying on the 
remnants of poor mortality. Now, as 
nature is nature, as much in the Condor as 
in Lions and Tigers, why could not a good 
artist take a different, but fully as natu- 
ral a subject, as a flock of the Condors 
feeding on a dead deer or elk, which may 
be seen in the mountains, from June to 
October, and which would give all the 
natural features and attitudes of both 
male and female birds with great effect, 
and make as good a subject as a snake 
swallowing a thrush, or a bird gulping a 
fish. 

The foregoing short notices of the male 
California Condor, dated the 1st and 16th 
of November, 1854, were published, ori- 
ginally, in the California Farmer of No- 
vember, 1854, and were afterwards re- 
published in several of the California 
Sapers, and, also, abridged by the Lon- 
on Zoologist (Magazine) of August, 
1866, and from this last, down into Ger- 
man, by Dr. Carl Bolie, and published 
in 1857, in the 5th volume of Cabani«' 
"Journal for Ornithologie," of Cassel. 
^The Remainder of the notes on the Con- 
dor of Chili were mostly compiled in 
August, 1855, — except where otherwise 
dated. The extended and varied addenda 
on the Female Condor of Caliiomia, and 
some other notes of appearances and ha- 



bits, were made in the fall of 1855, and 
have never before appeared in print. 
With many other additions and extracta 
made in March, 1850, on both species of 
Condors, and leaving their dates for pro- 
per comparison, I think I may say I have 
Drought the amateur, literary California 
history of these two celebrated birds — 
the largest of the flying birds — down to 
the latest date, and made it fuller, for the 
reference and use of naturalists and gen- 
eral readers, that has hitherto appeared 
in Europe and America. 

Since the California epoch of 1848, and 
the stimulas communicated to all inves- 
tigations, scientific and literary, it may be 
said that aftl history and literature has to 
be revised and rewritten, from the spc^t 
where human affairs take a new start — 
or new race, over the earth and earthly 
affairs, past and existing ; and as its 
volume extends, the most distant and se- 
cret recesses and haunts of man and na- 
ture, will be searched out and examined ; 
with many more eyes than the god Ar^s 
had ; until the circle of ripples gliding 
into the world's ocean of hidden myste- 
ries will penetrate and clarify to the very 
bottom of the Well of Truth — as far, at 
least as human genius is capable of ac- 
complishing. MoNTERKV, Mar. 31, 1859. 

Addenda, 7th May, 1859.— The young 
Condor, mentioned on page 537, Vol. 3d 
of this Magazine, proved, on opening, to 
be a male. The crato, or dilatation of the 
gullet, was filled with the finely commi- 
nuted flesh of some animal : The stomach 
contained oat grains and straw, with un- 
digested fragments of acorns, excrement 
of mice or squirrels, and small pieces of 
wood, stone and earth. The beak has a 
small prominence on its top, at the curve, 
which is not in the old bird, and its edge 
is very eligibly toothed. It is not known 
if the present bird feeds its young, or 
the chick feeds itself from food brou^^ht 
to them : but from the beak and tongue 
of the aoove specimen, he was as ready 
formed to tear and eat as a young alli- 
gator. The egg is a little smaller at one 
end than the other; its shell is abont 
three times thicker than that of a turkey 
egg. My old friend, Capt. John B. Coop- 
er, who knew David Douglass intimately, 
when in California, in 1829-30, informed 
me, a few days ago, that Douglass search- 
ed in vain ibr the eggs of the Condor, 
throughout the Santa Lucia Range, nor 
could he get them at any price he offered 
to the Indians or country people. 



TO A MOCKING-BIRD. 05 



TO A MOCKIKa BIRD, SIKOING IN A TREE. 

BT JOHN R. BIDGI. 

Sing on, thou little mocker, sing — 

Sarcastic poet of the bowery clime I 
Though full of 8coff, thy notes are sweet 

As ever filled melodious rhyme I 
I love thee for thy gracefulness, 

And for thy jollity — such happiness 1 
Oh, I could seise it for my booty, 

But that thedeed would make thy music less. 

Say, now, do not the feathery bands 

Feel hatred for thy songs which mock their own I 
And, as thou passest by, revile 

Thee anjgrily, with envy in their tone? 
Or are their litUe breasts too pure 

To know the pangs our human bosoms feel? 
Perhaps they love tiiee for that same, 

Ana from thy sweetness new heart-gushes steal? 

Upon the summit of yon tree 

How gaily thou dost sing? how free from pain 
Oh, would that my sad heart could bound 

With half the Eden rapture of Uiy strain I 
I then would mock at every tear 

That falls where Sorrow's shaded fountains flow, 
And smile at every sigh that heaves 

In dark regret o'er some bewildering woe. 

But mine is not thy breast — ^nor would 

I place within its little core one sting 
That goads my own, for all the bliss 

That heartless robbery of thee would bring. 
Ah no, still keep thy musio-power, 

The ever radiant glory of thy soul, 
And let thy voice of melody 

Soar on, as now, abhorrent of control. 

Maybe, thou sing'st of heaven sometimes, 

As raptured consciousness pervades thy breast ; 
Maybe, of some far home, where Lovi 

O'er Bird-land spreads soft, cooling shades of rest 
If man, whose voice is far less sweet 

Than thine, looks high for his eternal home 
Oh say, do not thy dreamings too 

To some green spot and habitation roam ? 

If living thought can never die. 

Why should thine own expire ? If there is love 
Within thy heart, it must live on, 

Nor less than man's have dwelling-place above. 
Thy notes shall then be brighter far 

Than now they be I And I may listen, too, 
With finer ear, and clearer soul, 

Beneath a shade more soft, a sky more blue I 



66 



HUTGHIXGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



BRIEF MEMORIAIS OF ALEXANDER MALASPDf A, 

The Calif omia NavigcUor: wUh an Original Autograph. 

BT ALBX. 8. TAYLOR, OT MONTXRET. 

J)(m Manuel Erquerra, Purser in the Royal Navy of Sis Mc^'esty, on board the Car- 

vet La Atremda. 

Certificate «Ten for account of the EJds'b Coryets Descnbierta and Atrevida at 
the demand of the **Capiian del Namo de m Beal Armada" Don Alezandro Mala- 
spina, destined for a yoyaee round the globe, made for the part of the Rev. Padre 
friar Fermin Francisco de Lasuen, President of tha Mission of New California ; 
the pulses and seeds, with the statement of their prices and imports, manifested 
in the following form, yiz: 

pMos. reals. 

14 fanegas of Peas, @ 12 reals a fanega, 27 

37 " Frigoles, (beans,) @ 20 reals do., 92 4 

6 " Habas, (large beans,) @ 20 reals do., 15 

2 " Barlej, @ 8 reals a fonega, 2 

Total, 130 4 

Making the pulses and seeds amount to a hundred and thirty and a half dol- 
lars; which amount, according to the solicitation of the aforesaid Rev. Padre 
Preeidenti has been placed against the aforesaid oommandante of the Expedition 
until his arrival at the port of Acapulco, for him to settle on account of the Royal 
Uasienda in Mexico, with the Rey. Padre Guardian of the College of San Fernando ; 
and in case of an^ accident happening with the ships, it should not be settled in 
this way, it is solicited that the saia money may be paid or arranged with the Royal 
Treasury in the said city, when this certificate is presented, which is giyen in 
duplicate, so that if one is paid the other may be yrithout effect. Done on board 
the Coryet of His Majesty named the Atreyida, in the port of Monterey, this 
23d of September, 1791. 




The following extract (free transla- 
tion ) from the old parish book of deaths 
of the Catholic Mission of Monterey,8hows 
a curious record of past times in Califor- 
nia, as well as interest in connection with 
the name of Malaspina. It is probably 
the earliest and only account of the buri- 
al of an American in California during 
the times of the king of Spain, and is 
inserted here from the author's Prologue 
to California, published in the California 
armer, of May, 1855. This old MS. 



book of Monterey deaths has a scriptural 
text for its motto, in the handwriting of 
Padre Junipero Serra, which is particu- 
larly appropriate to California men, as- 
pects and eyents, as herein: " For we are 
like water spilt on the ground, which 
cannot be gathered up again :" 

" On this llth day of September, 1791, 
in the cemetery of the church of the 
Royal Presidio of Monterey, being pres- 
ent the Senor Don Francisco de Paulo 
Anino, chaplain of one of the coryets of 
His Majes^, anchored in this port, named 



BRIE? MEMORIALS OF ALEXANDER MALASPINA. 



67 



the Airevida, I gave eoolesiastical sepal- 
tore to the body of Joan Qraem, [John 
In^nham or Qraham — A. S. T.], gunner 
on board the eaid oorvette, a native of 
the dtj of Boston, in the States of the 
Coited Provinces of America ; legitimate 
eoo of Jaao and Oatalina Mullen of the 
fttae eity. The deceased was of the sect 
of the Ireebyterians, but he had abjured 
these errors and had made repentance 
and obtuned absolution for the previous 
errors and sin he had in consequenoe 
incerTed, before he left Cadis; and having 
been fortified in the dogmas of our Saint- 
er| Faith, he died receiving the most holy 
•acraments of absolution, the Eucharist 
and extreme unction. And for the truth 
oC theee things I sign my name. 

Friar JOSE SENAN." 

Alexander Malaspina was employed 
by the Spanish government, between the 
years 1784 and 1794, as a scientific sur- 
veyor and hydrographer of the Pacific 
coasts of Spanish America, from Cape 
Qom to Behring's Straits. His charts 
and maps of Pacific Mexico, California 
and Northwest America were published 
by the Spanish government under the 
nsiaea of other authors, and afterwards 
lormed the most reliable data for Spanish 
mariners down to the revolution of 1825. 
They were also those most in use by the 
Knglish and American pilots in the Pa- 
cific trade* so far as related to the Span- 
ish American coasts south of the parallel 
uf Cape Mendocino, until the surveys of 
Beeehey, 1827 ; Belcher, 1838 to 1840 ; 
Ring. TiUroy and Sullivan, 1828 to 183G. 
The surveys of Cook, 1772 to 1778; 
La PeroQse, 1786 ; Vancouver, 1792 ; the 
Spanish imrveys, 1774 to 1791 ; Gray, 
Ingraham and Kendrick, 1786 to 1792, 
f Americans) ; Krusensteon and other 
Raa«sans to 1818 ; and finally to Wilkes, 
r. S. surveys, 184(M1, related more par- 
ticiilarly to the coast included between 
Cape Mendocino and Behring's Straits. 

Admiral A« Du Petit Thouars, of the 
French Navy, in 1837-39 also made im- 
portant and valuable additions to the 
llydrogiapby of Western Mexico, New 



and Old California, and the coasts to the 
north of the present Washington Terri- 
tory. This excellent officer left a name 
of great esteem and regard among the 
natives and old California pioneers. 

The charts and maps of Malaspina 
were drawn up by Don Felipe Bauza 
( vide Findlay ), and may still be found 
in use by Spanish navigators — the origi- 
nals of Bauza have become scarce. The 
chart of Monterey Bay and other points 
on this coast, made by Malaspina, are 
well done, — as we judge from two or three 
in our possession — bis principal error 
was in longitude, caused by the defective 
time instruments of the last century. — 
For the very best accounts of all, relating 
to the Pacific coast and islands, see the 
learned work of Alexander Q. Findlay, 
2 vols, octavo, London, 1851, pp. 1400. 
This is a book worth a compiling author's 
name, and exhibits the greatest industry, 
research and liberalitv. Our own Bow- 
ditch a;id Blunt, are sorrowfully at fault 
in their directories or accounts of the 
Califomias, Old Oregon and northwards. 
They seem to have been almost unacquain- 
ted with the hydrographical labors of 
American, English, Spanish, Russian 
and French surveys relating to our part 
of the world, though published (some of 
them) a hundred years before the date of 
their Coast Pilots and Navigators. This 
will be immediately perceived on refer- 
ence to positions of points and places 
north of Panama up to Sitka, noted in 
their volumes. 

The names of the old Spanish officers 
employed on the coast of California — 
many of whom were friends or compan- 
ions of Malaspina— occur in after works 
and charts on the Hydrography of Atlan- 
tic and Pacific Spanish America, and in 
many of her naval battles with English 
ships during the wars of Napoleon and 
the French revolution. Some of them 
may be found in the list of engaged, kill- 
ed and wounded in the narratives (Span- 



08 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



Uh and English) of the battle of Trar 
falgar (vide Godoj's Memoirs), etc., etc. 
The most of their names are presented 
in the archives of Old Spain, now under 
the charge of the United States Surveyor 
General of California, at San Francisco, 
and thej are many of them mentioned in 
the Monterey books of Baptisms and 
Confirmations, as acting as padrinas for 
the children of the Koyal Presido of 
Monterey. 

The names are as follows: Juan Perez, 
Bruno Heceta, Juan de Ayala, Antonio 
Maurelle, Juan Francisco de la Bodga y 
Qc.adra, Ignacio Arteaga, Estevan Mar- 
tinez, Gonzalo Haro, Manuel Quimper, 
Salvador Fidalgo, Francisco Elosa, Dioni- 
•' ) Alcala Galeano, Cazetano Yaldez, Ja- 
ueato Camano, Juan Bustamente, Ciriaca 
CevalloB, Jose Narvaez, Francisco Mau- 
relle, Juan Varnaci, Secundino Salaman- 
ca, Vicente Vila, Manuel Pino, Joaquin 
B. Marquina, Jose Cordero, Fernando 
Quiros, Jose Canzinares, Jose Manuel de 
Aiava, Alonzo de Torres, and also those 
of many others which may be found on 
consulting the aforesaid manuscript ar- 
chives, and the old parochial books of 
Monterey church. 

The following extract from Oreenhow's 
History of California and Oregon, 4th 
Ciiition, Boston, 1837, at page 222, will 
more fully show Malaspiua's services and 
treatment, and very little more it seems 
is known of Maldspina by American or 
English writers : 

" On the 2d of June, 1791, Capt. Alex- 
ander Malaspina, an accomplished Italian 
navigator in the service of Spain, who 
was then engaged in an expedition of sur- 
vey and discovery in the Pacific, arrived 
on the coast ne;u' Mt. San Jacinto or 
E«]j;ecumbe, with his two ships, the Des- 
cubierta commanded by himself, and the 
Atrevida, under Captain Bustamente. — 
Tne principal object of their visit was to 
determine the question as to the existence 
of the Straits of Aniam, described in the 
account of Maldonado's pretended voyage; 
the creditability of which, in the preced- 
ing year, (17D0,) had been affirmed by 



the French geographer Bauche, in a me- 
moir read before the Academy of Sciences 
of Paris. With this view, tney carefully 
examined the coast between Prince Wil- 
liam's Sound and Mt. Fairwcather, run- 
ning nearly in the direction of the 60th 
parallel, under which Maldonado hud 
placed the entrance of his Strait into the 
Pacilic, searching the various bays and 
inlets which there open to the sea, par- 
ticularly that called by the Enelish, Ad- 
miralty Bay^ at the foot of Mount St. 
Elias. They found, however, doubtless 
to their satisfaction, no passage leading 
northward or eastward from the Pacific ; 
and they became convinced that the whole 
coast thus surveyed was bordered by an 
unbroken chain of lofty mountains. — 
Want of time prevented them from con- 
tinuing their examinations further south, 
and they could only, in passing, deter- 
mine, the latitudes and longitudes of a 
few points between Mt. San Jacinto and 
Nootka Sound, where they arrived on the 
13th of August. 

"The journals of Malaspina have never 
been published. A sketch of his voyage 
along the northwest coasts of America is 
given in the introduction of the Journal 
of Galiano and Valdes, in which the high- 
est and in some places most extravagant 
praise is bestowed on the officers engaged 
in it. Yet — ^will it be believed — the name 
of Malaspina does not appear there or in 
any other part of the book. The unfortu- 
nate commander having given some offence 
to Godoy, better knowji as the Prince of 
the Peace, who then ruled Spain without 
restriction, was on his return to Europe 
in 1794, confined in a dungeon at Corunna, 
and there kept as a prisoner until 1802, 
when he was liberated, after the peace of 
Amiens, at the express desire of Napole- 
on. The name of one wlio had thus 
sinned could not b3 allowed to appear on 
the pages of a work published officially 
by the Spanish government for the pur- 
pose of vindicating the claims of its nav- 
igators." 

This is the latest and only reliable 
matter relating to Malaspina, except no- 
ted herein from Humboldt. Where he 
lived, or what he did subsequent to his 
liberation, or where and when he died, or 
anything relating to his family, seem to 
be entirely unknown to American and 
English writers, at least as far as we have 
seen from published works. Most prob- 



BRIEF MEMORIALS OF ALEXANDER MALASPINA, 



69 



aUj, like unto Christopher Columbus, 
Jvbh de Faca, Sebastian Yiscaino, and 
^kmnj other old sailors, knowing little 
aboQt bosiness matters, or the ways of 
loog-eliore people, he was cheated out of 
his life and his purse, died of a bro- 
ken heart, and was buried in some un- 
known grare. We hope these memen- 
toe will induce some rich Califomian 
trvTeling in Italy to search out the fami- 
ly of Malaspina and giro to the world a 
e »py oi his portrait and a publication of 
kia Tujages and works. This would be 
wMse sense— much more than in cutting 
np extras among the outsiders. Of the 
manj rich Califomians who have visited 
Europe since 1849, how many can we 
oonot who have benefited their adopted 
State, by searching out her hidden memo- 
rials in sld Spain, Britain, France, Italy, 
Fnssis or elsewhere. Nothing has been 
broo^bt by which their countrymen can 
recall their acts or memories with grate- 
ffil odors. Seven hundred millions have 
leaked through the sieve, and yet with 
kow Uttle benefit. At least one hundred 
rich Caltfomians mast visit Europe every 
year. What in the name of God and 
the good Saints have these people ever 
done bat eat, drink, dance, talk and look 
wkile they were out of California. So 
&r they seem nothing but dollar men. 
Bat we must wait patiently for the next 
geDsration of Califomians — their fathers' 
soals sppear to be crashed down with the 
erosk and rush of law, commerce, speou- 
iatiao, politics, mines and land titles. 

Uombotdt, in 1808, says, *'that the 
Vieerqy Aransa employed Sr. Casasola, 
«f tke Spanish navy to draw up at Mexi- 
eo, aecoante of the California marine ex- 
pedltkms ordered by his predecessors the 
viceroys Baearelli, Flores and Revillagi- 
gsdo. These works consist of, 1st, An 
alias of 26 maps made from the observar 
tioDs of Peres, Canisares, Oaleano, Ana- 
drm and Malaspina. 2d, An Historical 
CompeBdiam of the navigations of the 



northern coasts of California [ all up to 
the Russian settlements was California 
then.— A. S. T.] ordained in the city of 
Mexico, 1799. 3d. In the Voyages, etc., 
of Bodega y Quadra to 1792, on the Cal- 
fornia coasts. And 4th, a Reconnoitre of 
the four Russian establishments north of 
California in 1788 ; a curious expedition 
ordered by the Viceroy Flores and de- 
scribed by Antonio Bonilla. 

" The corvettes Descubierta and Atrr- 
vida, commanded by Don Alexander Mn- 
laspina, determined chronometically the 
difference of longitude between Acapulco, 
San Bias, Cape San Lucas, and Monte- 
rey. Malaspina placed Monterey (1791) 
at 36° 35^ 45^^ of north latitude, and of 
longitude 124° 23^ 45^^ west. La Peroune 
at 123° 34^ 0^\ in 1786— and Vancouver 
in 1792 at 123° 54^ 30^\ of longitude." 
Vide Essay on New Spain, vol. 1, p. 58 
of Introduction, London edition of 1811. 

" The Spanish expedition of Captain 
Elisa was followed by two others, which 
for the importance of their astronomical 
operations and the excellence of the in- 
struments with which they were provided 
may be compared with the expeditions of 
Cook, La Perouse and Vancouver ; I mean 
the voyages of the illustrious Malaspina 
in 1791, anl that of Qaleano and Valdes 
in 1792. The operations of Malaspina 
and the officers under him embrace an 
immense extent of coast, from the Rio 
de la Plata of Buenos Ayres to Prince 
Williams' Sound on the northwest ooast 
of Ame:ica. But this eminent navigator 
is still more celebrated for his misfortunes 
than his discoveries. After examining 
both hemispheres, and escaping all the 
dangers of the ocean, ( in his voyage 
round the world, etc.,) he had still great- 
er to suffer from his court, and he drag- 
ged out six years in a dungeon, the vic- 
tim of political intrigue. He obtained 
his liberty from the French court, [after 
the capture of Corunna by Marshal Soult, 
— ^A. S. T. ] and returned to his native 



70 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



country, where he enjoys in solitade on 
the banks of the Amo, the profound im- 
pressions which the contemplation of na- 
ture and the study of man under so many 
different climates have left on a mind of 
great sensibility tried in the school of 
adversity." [With what a magnificent 
air did the now venerable philosopher of 
Berlin ventilate the fame of our Califor- 
nia worthy. — ^A. S. T.] 

"The labors of Malaspina remain buried 
in the Archives of Spain, not because the 
Government dreaded the disclosures of 
secrets, the concealment of which might 
be deemed useful, but ihtU the name of 
this useful uavigaior miglU he doomed to 
eternal oblivion, [As in the case of Juan 
de Fuca in 1592.— A. S. T.] Fortunately 
the directors of the Hydrographic Office 
at Madrid have published to the world 
the principal results of the astronomical 
observations of Malaspina's expeditions. 
The charts which have appeared at Mad- 
rid since 1799 are founded in a great 
measure on Malaspina's results, but, in- 
stead of the name of the chief we merely 
find the name of the corvettes Descubieria 
and Atrevida, which wore commanded by 
Malaspina. 

" This expedition, which set out from 
Cadiz on the 30th of July, 1789, only 
arrived at Acapulco on the 2d of Febru- 
ary, 1791, where the expedition received 
orders from the Viceroy at Mexico, to 
verify the existence of the Straits of 
Aniam spoken of by Maldonado in 1588 ; 
the accounts of which had been revived 
•by Monsieur Bauche, in a memoir before 
the Academy of Sciences of Paris, a short 
time before. Malaspina, accompanied by 
the celebrated botanists Ilaenke and Nee, 
left Acapulco on the 1st of May, 1791, 
and after a three weeks' passage commen- 
ced the survey of the northwest coasts 
from Mt. St. Jacinto, near Cape Edge- 
cumbe, and continued them with great 
care and accuracy until he anchored in 
Port Mulgrave, in latitude 59° Zi^ north. 



having failed to find the Straits of Mal- 
donado. From Port Mulgrave he sailed 
for Nootka Sound (Vancouver's Island), 
examined the coasts thereaway, and sail- 
ing southward returned to San Bias in 
October, 1791; on hisvoyage ascertaining, 
by celestial observations ashore, the posi- 
tions of Nootka, Monterey, the island of 
Guadaloupe [off Lower California coast, 
near lat. 30°. — T.] and Cape San Lucas, 
all of which were made by means of four 
sea watches of Arnold of London. In 
these astronomical duties he was assisted 
by his officers, Espinoea, Cevallos and 
Vernaoci. Malaspina had previous to 
1789 been round the globe in the frigate 
L'Astre, bound to Manilla. 

<* On his return to Mexico (Oct 1791), 
being discontented vrith not having seen 
at a sufficient nearness the extent of 
coast from Nootka to Cape Mendocino, 
Malaspina engaged the Viceroy Reyilla- 
gigedo to prepare a new expedition of 
discovery towards the northwest coast of 
America, The Viceroy, who was of an ac- 
tive and enterprising disposition, yielded 
with so much the greater facility to this 
desire, as new information received from 
the Spanish officers at the Nootka Sound 
colony seemed to give probability to the 
discovery of the straits attributed to the 
Greek pilot, Juan de Fuca, in 1592. — 
These accounts were from Quimper and 
Elisa, who had affirmed their entrance 
into these waters, and even the discovery 
of secure and spacious ports therein. It 
was to complete their surveys that the 
schooners Sutil and Mejicana, under the 
command of Dionisio GalinoandCayetano 
Valdez, left Acapulco for the northwest 
coasts, on the 8th of March, 1792, whose 
observations are described at large in the 
account of their voyage, published at 
Madrid in 1802, by order of the King." 
Vide essay on New Spain, vol. 2d, p. 
376, et sig. 

This is all we can gather in California, 
from mentioned authorities, touching the 



A SUMlfER MORNINQ.— FUN-POETRT. 



71 



of Mmlmpiiw. It aeenu from 
HaMbold4» (his essay on New Spun is 
dKtad at Puis in 1807,) that Malasipina 
'wwM liviBg somewhere near Florence in 
1806, while Hnmholdt was finishing his 
'wvA on M ezieo. 

Malaspins' s ancestors were distinguish- 
ed ia Florentine history in the times of 
Dmo^e, ( 1300, ) and eren in oar day the 
fiaaiiy of Malaspiaas are mentioned in 
tbe Ittographies of the wondroas poet of 
tlM DiTina Oomedia, as his tried friends. 
Uwwooly ia April, 1859, that thewidow 
mi a Count Malaspina was married at 
Caha, to the distinguished mu- 
ipoeer, Alhertis, well known in 
the artisle eirdes of New York and the 



A SUMMER MORNING. 



■T ▲DUIXA r. STBTUrs* 



Silent the summer morning breaks, 

And shows the bright blue sky aboye ; 
And with the light, the wild bird wakes 

And breathes aloud its notes of love ; 
Thcry strike a gentle chord, and nuse 

Within the breast a kindred song. 
Thai mingles with the warbled lays^ 

And floats with nature's notes along. 

Tba sweetest buds are opening now 

OinflBoantainslope,nearripplingstream; 
And in the wreaths on Summer's brow 

The roses in the sunlight gleam ; 
They bend to meet the fickle breeze 

That &ns them with a loriog sigh. 
And wafts their fragrance through the 

Then, erer changing, passes by. [trees. 

Fair, sunny mom ! thy new-bom light 

Again rests on the leafy bowers — 
Again has drunk the dew-drops bright 

That listened in the lowly flowers ; 
And in thy warm life-giying rays 

Tbe bloom and shrubs that Earth adora 
Spring up, and in a thousand ways 

Qreel thee, O lo? ely Summer mom 1 



FUN-POETRY. 

It is curious to remark the influence 
that the different ages of the world have 
had in producing poetical compositions. 
Not only the times, but the peculiar con- 
dition of any country and people may be 
Tery well learned by simply making 
one's self acquainted with the poetry of any 
particular age. This will scarcely apply, 
though, to those great leading spirits 
whose souls have gone out beyond them* 
selves and the ages and people amidst 
which they lived, but to those simpler 
and more domestic productions which 
live in the hearts of the people, never ab- 
sent from memory, and often repeated 
by both old and young. Then, what, from 
the poetry of the age, are our traits of 
character? The leading feature of our 
age oertainly takes a cheerful and merry 
turn, alter Celtic and Norman elements. 
It is almost French, yet is redeemed by 
lacking ( thank kind Heaven for it) their 
garlicky odor of desperation, and reck- 
less tendency to self-destruction. This 
is no doubt ovring to the Celtic elements 
with which we are largely tinctured. 
This, too, accounts for the fact that even 
to this day and perhaps for all time to 
come, the poet Robert Bums is and will 
be one of, if not the most, popular poets 
whose works hold a place in our libra- 
ries. We do not admire, nor have we 
time to read, those long, tedious perfor- 
mances that amused our Saxon ancestors. 
What is here said of our poetry, is also 
trae of our music, for they go hand in 
hand. 

But let us get back to our sulject, and 
quote something from the unknown poets 
to prove our position. Who among you 
does not often recall some littie anony- 
mous performance in the poetical cor- 
ner of some newspaper, that sparkles, 
and is full of genius 7 There are thou- 
sands of these unclaimed bandings in the 
literature of the day — gems in the crown 



72 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



of unknown genius. They make sport 
of our follies, and show up our shortcom- 
ings ; turn love and fame, deceit and pas- 
sion, into strange companionship ; paint 
a moral, and adorn a rustic's story : words 
of living memory. 

The passion of love has been in all ages 
a fruitful theme for poetical composition. 
I hare culled from the field of literature a 
couple of those love stories that at once il- 
lustrate the position I have taken respect- 
ing the peculiar poetical tendency of our 
times, and will giye them here, because 
they go to prove what I have said, and 
deserve, as well, to be more permanently 
recorded and kept out of that immense 

' field of forgotten literature. The first is 
a parody upon that beautiful poem of the 
late Edgar A. Poe, styled ^'Annabel Lee.'' 
This is styled ''Deborah Lee," and she is 

. supposed to be her sister— one of those 
frail beings who "die early" and vanish, 
alas I too soon from our gaze ; it almost 
breaks the heart that so solemn an event 
as her death is supposed to be, is in this 
sacrilegious manner taken advantage of 
to make us laugh; but with their poetical 
licences, nothing is too sacred, nothing 
escapes — here it is: 

*' 'Tis a dozen or so ofyears ago, 

Somewhere in the West countree, 
That a nice girl lived, as the Hoosiers 

By the name of Deborah Lee — [know, 
Her sister was loved by Edgar Poe, 

But Deborah by me. 
Now I was green, and she was green 

As a summer squash might be; 
But we loved as warmly as other folks, 

I and my Deborah Lee, 
With a love that the lassies of Hoosier- 

Coveted her and me." [dom 

No doubt the lassies coveted, the world 
over, this disposition. 

"But somehow it happened long ago, 

In the a^eish West countree. 
That a chill March morning gave the 

To my beautiful Deborah Lee ; [shakes 
And the grim steam Doctor (curse him) 

And bore her away from me, [came, 
The Doctor and Death — old partners 

In the aguish countree." [Uiey — 



Just fancy the beautiful creature shak- 
ing to death, the steam Doctor, wet sheets, 
and chattering teeth. 

"The angels wanted her up in Heaven, 

(But they never asked for me,) 
And that is the reason, I rather guess. 

In the agueish West countree, 
That the cold March wind, the Doctor and 

Took off mv Deborah Lee, [Death, 

My beautiml Deborah Lee, 
From the warm sunshine and the opening 

And hid her away from me." [flowers. 

What a fancy— jealous of the angels in 
Heaven ! what a republican he must have 
been I — ^good as any of them-— a compan- 
ion for gods and angels. 

"Our love was as strong as a six-horse 
Or the love of folks older than we, [team. 

And possibly wiser than we; 
But Death, with the aid of Doctor and 
Was rather too many for me, [Steam, 

So he closed the peepers and stopped the 
Of my sweetheart Deborah Lee, [breath 

And her form lies cold in the prairie 
Silent and cold— oh met" [mold — 

That six-horse team is a rather strong 
simile, and not very poetical ; but the 
close of the verse makes up: — 

"The foot of the hunter shall press the 

And the prairie's sweet flowers [grave. 
In their odorous beauty around it wave, 

Through all the summer hours, 

The still bright summer hours ; 
And the birds shall sing in the tufted 

And the nectar-laden bee [grass. 

With his dreamy hum, on his gauze wing 

She wakes no more to me I ]pa88 — 

Ah, never more to me I 
Though the wild birds sing and the wild 
flowers spring, 

She wakes no more to me." 

Turn, reader, and peruse that again, 
for there is deep and hidden beauty in it, 
and then sympathise with the poor, dis- 
consolate young man, and feel the deep 
melody, and fancy you hear his regret in 
his last refrain, then tell me, is there not 
something in it? 

"Tet oft, in the hush of the dim still night, 

A vision of beauty I see, 
Qliding soft to my bedside, a phantom of 

Deaj, beautiful Deborah Lee, [light — 

My bride that was to be ; 



FUN-POETRY. 



73 




And I irake to moom that the Doctor and 

[Death, 
And the eold March wind, should stop the 

Of mj darling Dehorah Lee, [breath 

Adorable Deborah Lee ; 
Thai the angels should want her up in 

Before the/ wanted me." [Heayen 

One searoelj knows whether to laugh 
vr shad tears orer this; for my part I have 
doiM both, and hardly know now which 
me the most pleasure. ** That the 
g^ should want her up in heaven be- 
fore they wanted me " — ^what a refirain I 
often homan experience feels the 
tfaoaght baming into and branded 
ihesonl. 
The following is, perhaps, not so 
and noble a strain, but it has in- 
ftailely more quirks and oddities in it 

" O list to me, Lizzie, 

Thou sweet lump of candy- 
Lore makes me feel dizzy, 

Like sugar and brandy ; 
My Tuion is reeling — 

My brains are all burning — 
And the sweet cream of feeling, 

Is curdled by churning : 
For my heart 'neath my jacket 

Is up and down jumping, 
And keeps up such a racket, 

With its thumping and bumping, 
O ' show me one smile—'tis my last sup- 
plication ; 
I crare nothing further — ^'twill be my sal- 

▼ation I " 

What figures are here presented : can- 
dy-ahope, brandy-shops, dairies, pastoral 
life and porsaits, salvation and the lov- 
er's Heaven. And what deep despair fol- 
low*: — 

** Lizzie 1 Tm worsted — 

I feel it all over ; 
Tm done up and bursted — 

A broken down lover ; 
The joys of my bosom 

Have cut stick and vanished ] 
I know'd I should lose 'em, 

When my true love you banished ; 
The world has grown dreary, 

In sackcloth of sorrow ; 
Of life I am weary, 
And I wish that to-morrow 
Would dawn on my grave in that peace- 
giving valley 
Where I'd not care for you, nor for Susan 
or SaUy." 



That addition of Susan and Sally was 

a deep stroke of policy to raise in the 

mind of the lady a little spirit of jealousy. 

Who dare say that love is blind ? he did 

not care a snap for them, but possessed 

a thorough knowledge of the female 

heart ; a little jealousy on her part he 

knew would work in his favor; for how 

many women have married on purpose 

to cut out and spite others. But hear his 

dying strain; like the fable of the swan, 

he goes out of the world with the song 

upon his lips ; such a song, such figures, 

such frenzy, despair, and such a finale. 

*'I know 'tis a sin to— 

But I'm bent on the notion — 
I'll throw myself into 

The deep briny ocean, 
Where the mud-eels and cat-fish 

On my body shall riot, 
And flounders and flat-fish 

Select me for diet ; 
There soundly I'll slumber, 
Beneath the rough billow, 
And crabs without number, 
Shall crawl o'er my pillow ; 
But my spirit shall wander thro' the gay 

coral bowers. 
And frisk with the mermaids — ^it $haUj by 
the powers!" 

That fellow was certainly a scamp ; I 
can hardly believe he was sincere, for he 
was not sincere in bringing up Susan 
and Sally in the former verse, but had 
been reading of or seen Bamum's mer- 
mfud, and most needs fright the girl, even 
after his death, with frisking with the 
mermaids in the spirit,, and to make it 
more impressive assures her with a sol- 
emn asseveration that he will do so. I 
think the girl may have rested easy upon 
this score, for though he talks so largely 
about the ocean mermaids, etc., it is plain 
he never saw salt water, and was clearly 
and entirely a " Western chap," and was 
much more familiar with " mud-eels and 
cat-fish" than with " flounders and flat- 
fish," or he would not have introduced 
the former into salt water where they do 
not belong; his brandy and churning 
butter out of his feelings, in the first verse, 
prove this satisfactorily. 



74 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



However, the fellow mast be pardoned 
for his lover's deceit, for he has told his 
story charmingly, and contributed his 
mite to the fun-loving tendencies of the 
age. It is infinitely better to laugh than 
to weep — ^would that we had more things 
to make us laugh, more smiling prose, 
more smiling poetry, more smiles in our 
hearts, more smiles upon our countenan- 
ces. Behold the man or woman, whoever 
they are, that in society and in their con- 
verse with the world wears a smiling 
countenance, and carries within a cheer- 
ful heart— he or she is a blessing to the 
race. The poets, Halleck and Holmes, 
the Knickerbocker Magazine, Harper's 
Drawer, the London Punch, and others 
too numerous to enumerate, do us much 
good; they follow public opinion, as their 
popularity shows. Some man would be 
a blessing to his day if he would collect 
and publish a goodly volume of such 
poems as we have given above. Who 
will do it? There is no fear of lowering 
our morals. M. 

AUeghany Toum, Sierra Co, 
LIFE'S FLEETING DREAM. 

BT LUNA. 
** A rainbow tMod, too bright to l«ft.*' 

So young, and yet to love so madly t 
Long years have passed since then, still 
I remember well kU form, which seemed 
to me of more than earthly mold. 
When, in a crowd, he moved idong, all 
eyes were turned upon him, and as he 
smiled fair maidens blushed with love-lit 
eyes, while on his arm I leaned and felt 
secure from every ill; and then to die, 
death would have lost one-half its sting. 

Well do I remember that balmy sum- 
mer's eve, when beneath the arbor tree 
he spoke to me of love. Asked if I 
would like to be hU wife. Had an angel 
■aid " Come live with me in Paradise," 
it would have been a lesser joy. I did not 
speak, but leaned upon his bosom and 



wept refreshing tears of rapturous 
so soon, alasl to be returned upon my 
heart and there congeal forever its gush- 
ing fountains. He kissed the teainijops 
from my eyes, and laughingly asked : — 
" Did I think he was in earnest 7 IHd I 
suppose that he, a nobleman, would make 
a poor orphan child like me his bride 1 '' 
It was enough — ^that tone of voice, with- 
out the words, told all my heart eonld 
fear ; as the startled deer bounds away 
at the sound of the deadly rifle's shot» 
I sprang from his embrace, and in a dark 
sequestered spot I knelt on the cold 
ground, and looking up to the bright stars 
I prayed for death — that I might go to 
some far and brighter world where de- 
ception was unknown. '* Not yet,^' a sil- 
very voice replied, and turning I beheld 
a being vnth looks of calm compassion, 
and thus he spoke : — 

" Child of earth I I it is your heart 
adores, and all the loved are ever seen 
through me ; but, I may not stay where 
truth and purity do not abide ; I must 
pass on, and those who would be blest by 
me must follow where I lead. No one can 
chain me to their will, though often they 
have tried ; like air and water, all may 
freely breathe and drink of my delights, 
nor seek to control or hold me as their 
slave, lest I a pestilence prove and blight 
their dearest joys. On memory's page 
I impress the pleasure, not the pun, of 
the bright visions I create, and time shall 
only harmonise the too great contrast of 
light and shade." And then I seemed to 
wake as from a dream ; and now, through 
the dim vista of intervening years, I love 
to look back and contemplate that fleet- 
ing dream, though of illusive bliss, where- 
in was crowded more of the conscious- 
ness of life than in all the waveless time 
that has rolled between. 

In every heart are cherished dreams 
of evanescent joys, around which mem- 
ory deliebts to linger — a time when love 
has touched and attuned every faculty of 
the soul to harmony, and earth to them 
was Heaven. 



A MEMORY.— THE MOUNTAINEERS OF CALITORNIA. 



75 



A MEMORY. 



n 



Itii 






\ thiit*s for remembrance : pmy 
and there's Paoeiee, that*! for 



cnlle ! — ^I know 7011 hare forgotten 
Tbal tfane lone paased awa]r-~ 
taM to BM of fooliflhncw besotteo. 
To yon of earelctt play. 

Boi that I fed tome tonch of anguish ; — 
Fre aald I smne— enoagh I 

l^i heaH that slighted lore makes languish, 
MaB^ Is of sterner stnfT. 

B«t saj yon drev me on to eonrt yon, 

Ww yoQ were nerer bold ; 
r BBodealT^-prledcas and lorely rlrtae I— 

Kept yoa e'er coy and cold. 

B0C say yoar eyes hare e'er shot glances 

On BBC that ssMMd like love ; 
I tooks as womao^ tender heart adrances 

To klsB she seeks to more. 

wHh thdr honeyed words and sighing, 
BaTo daacd a score of foohi, 
cafled tt flirting, (In my thooght *tls <y€n^, 
speaking 'gainst the rules) ; 



I eh«ff« not that fou thns e'er hare acted— 
*Twa« bof my self-conceit, 
t think thns of yoa, so well compacted 
Of MSlUIss most sweet ? 






We 



together.— Say, do yon remember f 
1 smfla but not forget t 
en a m ellow eTenlng of September 
i ppnintedly we met. 

iil rays of the antnma moon aseendlng 
€•■» sOrer showers abroad ; 

In the harrest-field were bending 
their boanteoQs load ; 



chirped in their mystertons hiding ; 
fyofs, with drowsy croak, 
reBpoBded--blendtng with the gUding 
And rippUnff of a brook ; 

* «u hmrj with the scent of flowers, 
and ripened fruit :-~ 
spoke with each persoaslTS powers, 
Oonld I alone be mntef 

a night for Ioto— at least, I thought so, 
And dreamed yon thooght so, too ; 
I my son! a mighty passion wroaghti 
It then with yon? 



Thoogh when by true-lore maidens* hearts are flut- 
Tis eloquent enough. [tered, 

" You did not think"—" you never dreamed"— per- 
Woman, you know you lied I [ditlon ! 

Not know— not see — not feel the lore's condition 
I nerer wished to hide I 

Behind a cloud the moon her faoe Inrested, 

Just then, as If for shame : 
A shade not half so black as that which rested— 

Jfow rests — upon your fame. 

Dared yon tell me, in what your sex Is keenest 
That you alone were blind f 

The act was mean, but the excuse was meanest- 
No better you could find. 

Oh, how I Ured by ttitnklng of your graces, 

Tour hlgb mind, noble soul : 
Tour charms of person held but second places 

In my heart's muster-roll. 

I placed your perfectnew so far abore me, 

I almost feared to dream 
That It was possible you e'er would lore me. 

So lowly did I seem. 

Away f— It was my fluicy that Inrested 

Tou with so rare a glow ; 
Tet not the less with pain my heart's Infested 

That you hare fall'n so low. 

Still I lore on ; I lore that which I thought yon, 

Though loring yon no more : 
I most regret that e'er with lore I sought yon. 

And broke the charm I bore. 

I had been proud, might I hare been yonr warden 

Against the Ills of life- 
Might I hare lightened you from ercry burden, 

As my dear, cherished wife. 

But that is past. Like bubbles blown by children, 

Which glitter, break In air, 
80 broke those dreams of fanoy most bewildering. 



Varewell I— so false— so fair I 



V. 



Ten ttsw yonr head half back upon my shoulder. 
Tear telr earls brushed my cheek, 

Tear warm breath kissed me, and my heart grew 
*Two«ld force the domb to speak, [boldi 

rseoOect what then I uttered— 
fMllsh, lore-skk staff; 



THE MOUNTAINEERS OP CALIFORNIA. 

A Cockney toarigt, who onoe honored 
the Americans by traveling through their 
country, and who illustrated their man* 
ners and customs in a book for which the 
British public paid him a guinea for each 
printed copy, landed at nine o'clock one 
fine morning on the Philadelphia wharf, 
where the first thing that met his aston- 
ished gaze was an infuriated cobbler beat- 
ing his wife. ** In 'eaven's name,'' ex- 
claimed the Cockney, ''what's hall the 
row habout V **0, it's nothin'; it's al- 



76 



EUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



ways the way they does," replied a com- 
municative boy. And, thereupon, our 
tourist, taking out bis tablets, wrote— 
" Philidelphia is a city of some impor- 
tance, with long straight streets and tall 
red houses. The cobblers of Philadelphia 
have a singular custom. £ very morning, 
regularly at nine o'clock, each cobbler in 
the city beats his wife with a leather 
strap 1" The moral of this little story — 
if it is worthy of a moral — is, 'that the 
world will never owe much of its en- 
lightenment to tourists who are too highly 
gifted with what some phrenologists call 
the "organ of credenciveness," who leap 
at conclusions from insufficent facts, and 
who judge of a whole people, or a 
whole class, by the first-presented and 
ill-understood specimens. 

Were our Cockney tourist to drop from 
the clouds into a California mining village, 
he would be apt, after the first quarter 
of an hour's investigation, to write some- 
thing like this in his diary: "The miners 
of California never shave; never put on 
clean vests, clean dickeys, or clean boots ; 
never work any ; never go to church, and 
never marry. They wear slouched hats, 
hickory-shirts, and caoutchouc unmen- 
tionables. They play billiards and drink 
whisky all night." Unquestionably, this, 
or something very like it, would shadow 
forth the first impression which the 
mountaineer life of California would 
make upon the sensorium of our Cockney 
tourist, or any other tourist, to whom 
has been denied that modicum of patience 
which enables its possessor to look be- 
neath the surface of things. The man, 
who wishes to learn the true character 
and stcUus of the California Mountaineer, 
must become one himself. He must eat, 
drink, sleep, and work with California 
Mountaineers; and then, if he has some- 
thing of the philosopher in him, he may, 
perchance, be enabled to judge of them 
dispassionately and describe them truth- 
fuUy. 



One of the most remarkable of the 
thousand and one remarkable features of 
the mountain society of California, is its 
apparent homogeneousness — its oneness. 
Be it borne in mind that we are dealing 
exclusively with the Caucasian element — 
with the descendants of Scandinavian, 
Sclavonic, and Celtic stocks — and have 
nothing to do, and intend to have nothing 
to do, with the Aboriginal, Mongolian, 
and Ethiopic tribes, whose somber vis- 
ages are not necessary to the filling up 
of our picture. One of the most remark- 
able features, as has just been said, in 
Califomian mining life, is the extra- 
ordinary intellectual, moral and physical 
resemblance which each Californian 
Mountaineer bears to all the rest of his 
brethren. How this has been brought 
about, in a brief tenth of a century, is a 
marvel that transcends the solving pow- 
ers of our poor philosophy. Ten years 
ago the Caucasian race, in respectable 
numbers, first planted itself on the Cal- 
ifornia mountains; and, true to its in- 
stincts, it not only clings to its first foot- 
holds, but pertinaciously, day by day and 
year by year, keeps adding to its puis- 
sance and its dominion. And whence 
came, and whence come, these Caucasian 
founders of the mountain empire of the 
Sierra Nevadas? From every State of the 
great American Republic and from every 
Kingdom, Principality and Republic of 
Europe. Here they have come — Qoths, 
Huns, Teutons, Slavons, Celts — speaking 
all the European dialects and jargons, 
and professing all the creeds of European 
Christianity — and here, by some inscruta- 
ble trick of fate, they have become one 
people, alike in language, thought and 
acdon. The Mount^neersof California, 
whatever may have been their variant 
antecedents, all converse together in the 
English vernacular, all think together 
that the acquisition of gold is the only 
sure means of securing earthly happi- 
ness, and all act together, in effort to ab- 



THE MOUNTAINEERS OF CALIFORNIA. 



77 



BtncI (he aforesaid gold from the soil in 
vhich it has so long been hidden and 
uRsleaa. There is a marked homogeneity 
in the social, the reflective and the active 
relatioiis and pursaits of these Mountain- 
eer*; and this homogeneity, if submit- 
ted to the mental optics of the philosoper, 
will be found to penetrate, peryade, and 
c«>lor the very substratum of their social 



There are no rules without exceptions ; 
and the old logicians and metaphysicians, 
vho were prouder of knowing how to 
drees up nonsense in gaudy garments 
than of knowing how to make men wiser 
and happier, have left us, as a legacy, the 
di>snia, **exeepiio probat regulam^" mean- 
inz thereby that a rule or proposition is 
the more veritable the more it lacks uni- 
formity and directness. The old logi- 
cians and metaphysicians were astonish- 
inirfy adroit in the creation of quibbles, 
bat they had no genius for the creation 
of steam-engines, railroads, and elecrtic 
t^^legraphs. Happily for the white-skinned 
porUon of mankind, the spirit of Utilita- 
rianiam has consigned these quibble- 
iDFiogers and idea-jugglers to an obscurity 
mnre obscure than their own ridiculous 
whimsies; and the Caucasian race is per- 
nittwi to run its course, without being 
htfff^f^ and thwarted by Aristotlian 
•Q>»deties and the learned ignorance of 
oMviixval monkishness. The genuine 
m-Mmtmineer of California, come whence 
be may, is always a man of high resolves, 
gw tere u s purposes, and unswerving en- 
TXJ' He had an object in casting his 
1 K amid the gulches and caflons of the 
Sierra Kevadas, and nothing can prevent 
the aecffropUshment of his object but 
d<^ath, disease, or disaster. Like all 
other men, noted for self-reliance and in- 
dijmitable resolution, he is honest in his 
dealinjTS, benevolent to the unfortunate, 
aikd honorable in his intercourse with all 
amand him. This, mind you, is a pic- 
ture of the genuine Mountaineer of Cal- 



ifornia; and though you may esteem it 
rather warm in the coloring, it has more 
of truth than fancy in it. It is the rule 
of California mountain life ; and the ex- 
ceptions to it, which the old logicians and 
metapysicians, insist should be lugged 
in to prove the truth of every rule, are to 
be found in those "cankers of the world," 
known in Califomian parlance as "Bvx- 
MERS." The English language is rich in 
opprobrious epithets, indicative of the 
useless and vicious classes of community 
— ^we have "vagabond," "loafer," and 
" sponger," — but it was reserved for Cal- 
ifornia to invent a dissyllabic appellative 
which compresses within its brief utter- 
ance the very essence and quintessence 
of contempt and loathing. The bum- 
mers, like rats, follow in the wake of 
Civilization, and fare sumptuously by 
making honest Industry and Thrift their 
unwilling tributaries. It is not necessary 
to describe the bummer. The term com- 
prises all varieties and shades of disre- 
putable life. The loafer, the lazy man, 
the bar-room lounger, the gambler, the 
pimp, the cheat, all come within its pur- 
view ; and the word, although of Califor- 
nia coinage, will never have justice done 
it until honored with a place in Noah 
Webster's Dictionary, as one expressive of 
all that is wicked, vile, and detestable. 
The bummer Is an unseemly blotch on 
the body politic of the Californian moun- 
tains — an ugly dnm in the current of 
mountain goodness — a base exception to 
the rule of mountaineer honesty and 
honor — and so we leave him. 

The legitimate Mountaineers of Cal- 
ifornia are patient in labor, fertile in ex- 
pedients, careless of hardships, frank in 
their manners, unostentatious in their 
sympathies, faithful in their friendships, 
chivalric in their revenges, honorable in 
their gallantries, bold and independent 
in their entertaiument and expression of 
their opinions, and free and easy in their 
social intercourse. A vigorous sprink- 



78 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



ling of what the pious call profanity gar- 
nishes their colloquial efforts a little too 
ahundantly; but, if they are prompt in 
dealing hard words, they are just as 
prompt in dealing hard blows. The por- 
trait of the soldier, drawn by the melan- 
choly Jacques, needs but little variation, 
in limning and coloring, to make it a fit 
presentment of the Oalifornian Moun- 
taineer. Mark how apt : 

"Fall of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard : 
Jealoas In honor, sudden and quick in quarrel." 

But our Mountaineer is not a vain and 
coxcombical quarreler. His belligerent 
energies are seldom expended for mere 
am usement. He fights only for his rights, 
or what he esteems his rights. He can 
be generous to the last dime in his pock- 
et, but his whole soul is in arms the mo- 
ment he imagines himself overreached 
in a bargain or made the victim of a 
trick of knavery. In all his business ne- 
gotiations, he thinks, if he does not speak, 
like the fiery Hotspur : 

" 1*11 give thrice so much land 

To any well-deserving fjriend ; 

But, in the way of bargain, mark ye me, 

I'll cavil on the ninth part of a hair." 

Next to his dislike to being "taken in," 
in a business transaction, is the supreme 
contempt the Califomian Mountaineer 
entertains for all manner of charlatans 
and Charlatanism. The mountains of 
California furnish an exceedingly indif- 
ferent field for the exploits of mounte- 
banks, whether they be players, preach- 
ers, or politicians. Our Mountaineers 
will not barter their hard-earned gold tor 
the spurious wares of buskined preten- 
ders and canting gospelers, nor will they 
insanely trot at the heels of a demagogue. 
The men of the Sierra Nevadas have read 
too much, thought too largely, and travel- 
ed too far, to be easily made the dupes of 
pretenders, let them take what shape 
they will. 

Though the lump of Califomian moun- 
tain life is made up of such variant ma- 
terials, yet, sooth to say, it is the Yankee 
leaven that leaveneth it. It is the rest- 



less, all-pervading, all-oontroUing Yan- 
kee element, insinuating itself into, aad 
mixing itself with, all the other elements, 
that has, in ten brief years, produced 
that homogeneousness, of which we haye 
spoken, and which has converted a grand 
melange of Goths, and Teutons, and Gauls, 
and Britons into one living, breathing 
community of Yankee industrials. It is 
the speciality of the Yankee that, though 
he loveth the results of labor, he loveth 
not the labor, itself. His education and 
religious teachings forbid his condemning 
human muscles to involuntary servitude, 
and, therefore, he casteth about to enslave 
the physical elements and make them 
work in his harness. He chaineth up 
the air, the fire, and the water, and 
causeth them to do his bidding. Even 
the lightnings, those subtle spirits of the 
clouds, he is now seeking to make his 
servitors, and will, some day, drive them 
in triumph before what he is pleased to 
term his Cak or Progress. Well, the 
Yankee, when he looked upon the golden 
hills of the Sierra Nevadas, said unto 
himself, that gold was good, but that the 
tedious and toilsome wielding of the pick 
and shovel was ''evil, and that continu- 
ally .'' Therefore, he called to his aid 
the Hercules of Hydraulics, and water 
ditches were woven, like network, along 
the mountain sides, beneath whose resist- 
less might the auriferous hills melted 
away, as from the wand of an enchanter, 
leaving their long-hidden treasures to 
swell the triumphs of Yankee science. 
The Yankee, in the mountains of Califor- 
nia, is not only the motor but the balance 
wheel of the social and industrial ma- 
chinery. He infuses his piety, his poli- 
tics, and his philosophy into everything 
around him. The Scandinavians, the 
Celts, and the Slavons, though at first as- 
tonished by the boldness of his designs 
and the miracles of his inventive genius, 
soon lost their amazement in admiration, 
and in all things, save identity of birth- 



AN BYBNING ON TELEGRAPH HILL. 



79 




place, baoune as efficient Yankees as be. 

Woman — good, pore, beautiful, and 
loving woman — ^has broagbt her angel 
into the homes of the Moontain- 
of Caiifomia, making their hearts 
boman and their aspirations more 
Doble. She has transformed their rude 
Irati into Tine-olad cottages and inTested 
the ToAj aolitades with the charms of 
lieseakio peace and social refinement 
Toong Mountaineers, natives of our pine- 
eorered hills, their cheeks flushed with 
Irtalth, and their bodies cast in molds of 
graoeful strength, now throng the moun- 
tain sehool, preparing themselves to 
walk worthilj in the footsteps of their 
•dventuous and resolute sires. The 
gtcan giants of the forest are giving place 
to gardens, orchards, and vineyards. 
The cshnnstless gold fields will continue 
to jinid their treasures, for centuries, to 
to the hand of Industry; but other 
golden harvests, and not less rich, 
are to be gathered in the valleys and on 
the hiU-eides of the Sierra Nevadas. 

Tha IKvinity that shapes our ends has 
not peopled the mountains of Galifomia 
with bold, hardy, intelligent, liberty- 
loving men, to be the sport of an evanes- 
cent porpoee. Tears and centuries will 
be rolled into the tomb of the mighty 
FmI — bat many years and centuries will 
eome and go ere the hills and valleys of 
the SMrra Nevadas shall cease to furnish 
abodes and sustenance to a manly and 
oaeooquerable race of Californian Moun- 



15 KVBNIKQ ON TELEGRAPH HILL. 



It was night. The moon was riding 
mqesticaUy in the heavens as the vapory 
deads flitted past. The stars surround- 
ing her appeared to be strung in silver- 
ed elneters around the brow of the gentle 
'*(kMen of Night," and, though they 
•bone brightly, gave forth no blinding 
ghre, aoeh as is given by the rays of the 



sun, but a mellowed and soft, silvery 
light, such as poets love to embalm in 
verse: 

As mild and soothing as a summer's dream, 
In which no sorrows comeiand pleasures 

seem 
Increasing in each whispered word that's 

breathed 
Into the ear by angel lips with fragrance 

wreathed. 

Such was the evening when I sat mu- 
sing and buried in silent meditation 
upon Telegraph Hill. I had recalled to 
mind some of the events of the day just 
past, which led the mind to revert to 
similar scenes at home, scenes that have 
transpired long since, and silently slum- 
ber in the dark tomb of oblivion. A 
spell of reverie stole upon me, and I be- 
came unooncious of what was transpiring. 
While thus entranced — seeing nothing, 
hearing nothing, not even the noise and 
bustle in the city's crowded mart below 
me — a hand was gently placed upon my 
shoulder. The intruder spoke before I 
returned to consciousness, and in a fami- 
liar yoice, whispered in my ear : 

"Were you asleep? This is friend — , 
isn't it r 

I was startled, and instantly sprang 
to my feet, replying as I arose, "That is my 
name." I gazed intently upon the face 
of the new comer, as the moon was 
streaming full across his features, and re- 
cognised in him an old acquaintance, 
whom I supposed to be in the mountains, 
as it was there we last parted. The 
length of our separation had produced no 
great change, and now we were as warm 
friends as ever. We interchanged a few 
friendly words ; and, during our conversi^ 
tion, he actually declared that he had 
really found me asleep, and, worse than 
all, asked me if Telegraph Hill was my 
lodging-place, proffering me money to 
purchase a night's lodging, in case I had 
not the means in my possession. Judge 
of his surprise, when he became convinc- 
ed that I was only studying. 



80 



HUTCmNGS* CALIFORNIA MAGAZINB. 



Accompanying him were two ladies, one 
of whom he assured me was his own dear 
wife, and to whom I was introduced as 
such. The other was introduced as Miss 
E . She extended her hand cor- 
dially, gracefully bowing as she did so. 
It is, of course, needless to say that I po- 
litely held out my hand as hers was 
proffered. A pleasant '* good evening'' 
was spoken, as an interchange of friend- 
ship, and we were soon engaged in agreea- 
ble conversation. We were now a party 
of four, laughing and talking ; and, to my 
astonishment I about the first thing my 
friend told the ladies was, that he found 
me sitting on the grass asleep, with my 
arms resting on my knees and my face 
almost buried in my hands. This natur- 
ally led them to surmise much ; but they 
laughed heartily, when he contradicted 
himself in part, and told them " I was 
only musing." 

" Pray what were you musing about," 
inquired my new friend, Miss E . 

"Oh I only thinking about home," I re- 
plied, laughing. 

" Thinking of some little fairy you've 
left there, I suppose, are you not ? come, 
no secrets now. We can pretty nearly 
guess the truth, so you may as well tell us 
right out , I know you love her ; besides, 
I dare say she's handsome." 

" See him blush," said Mrs. S . 

Being naturally a little eccentric, and 
fond of a joke, I laughed out : 

"But suppose I am already married — 
and to a handsome girl ? " 

" Goodness gracious ! I know now why 
he was thinking so much of homo when 

you found him, Mr. S ," said Miss 

E . 

"I dare say any one young and hand- 
some would lose himself in thought, 
when thinking with fond imaginings of a 
pretty young wife ! " retorted Mrs. S . 

" Yes I that's why my friend — ^was so 
thoughtful when I met him here," said 
Mr. S . 



I now began to notice that all three of 
them thought me a wedded man in earn- 
est, and deemed it best to tell them the 
contrary, before they were confirmed in 
the belief that I was married ; and, also, 
modestly hint to Mrs. S^— ~, that she 
flattered me in calling me handsome, in- 
forming her in the same manner, that I 
considered myself yery homely. 

"No you are not!" said Miss £ , 

hurriedly. 

" Very well," replied I, " although be- 
lieving you in error, I will not argue the 
case." 

"How is itl" said Mr. S . * 



you really not married? At first jou 
said so, and now you say differently ; I 
never heard you touch upon this subject 
in the mountains." 

"I was at first only joking," was my 
response, in reply to his inquiry. 

He answered by saying : 

" Very well, we'll say you are unmar- 
ried." 

" I won't," rang in Mrs. S . 

" Nor I either," echoed Miss £ . 



Here was a dilemma — and certainly a 
pretty one. I had told a story for a joke, 
and that to ladies, too, and, mercy sakes ! 
if both didn't believe itl — and with all I 
could do, I could not impress it upon their 
minds, that I was not sincere in my asser- 
tion. One said she did not believe I 
would tell a story. The other said it 
was funny if I would. 

What a pretty pickle for a young man 
to be in I and especially one with a pas- 
sionate fondness of the sex — one enamor- ' 
ed at first sight, with loveliness such as ' 
I beheld in the person of Miss £ . 

Why 1 I would have given my all — 
though unfortunately I had little to 
give — if I had not been guilty of such in- 
discretion as to tell a falsehood, not only 
in the presence of ladies, but to them 
personally. Oh, horror I what a sad re- 
sult of a careless expression ! 

With much modesty, I told Miss 



AN XYBNING ON TELEGRAPH HILL. 



81 



Ibal I WM ynrf partial to an innocent 
joke, and Ihal the one jnsi perpetrated 
wae intended as anoh, and, in proof of it, 
wnold place my liand on my lieart and 
'Holy Ifeorror 1-^no I Swear in 
of ladies 1 — ^why» that would 
be aa bad aa tolling a story. Here I 
cheeked myself, and snbstitnted the word 
•%ay" for ••swear." This did rery well, 
ae &r as I was ooncemed ; bnt still the 
Utile nymph looked in my faoe and 
laogfaed, saying : 

•* No yon won't either, or I won't be- 
Cere it if yon do; so, now, you needn't 
tall another story to get clear of the first." 

O, wonder and amasementl if she didn't 
begin to think I would tell a second false- 
hood! Bot as good fortune would have 
it, I had a friend ready to help me out of 
the dilemma; and in that instance found 
a Torifieation of the old adage, ** A friend 
in need, is a friend indeed." 

Mr. S stepped forward, and, with 

mueh benignity of countenance, remark- 



•*I feel confident friend 



— was not 
leet at first. I have known him 
for years in the mountains. He often 
wimld tell us some rery hard yams, be- 
ing foil of his good natured jokes, and 
after a hearty laugh had been introduced 
cm all sides, he would * throw cold water 
spon il ' by Mying that he was only jok- 

Joking for a season — 

Not without a reason — " 

*' See here, see here I " interrupted Miss 

B 1 *• You are going on in one of your 

poetical strains. I am Tcry fond of poe- 
try, bat oar friend may not approve of 



!•» 



a: 

I aasared her of my partiality to poetry, 
hat did not mean to tell her that I wrote 
•* the Ktoif" — as monotonic prosaists call 
the offspring of Poesy — when naughty 
Mr. 8 told her that I wrote occbt 

•iooally. He was a Poet, and had writ- 
ten many fine things. Of late, however, 
be has almost forgotten the Muses, and 



none more regret it than I ; for he always 
wrote in a sweet and melodious strain of 
true poetry, that was a pleasure to road. 

But, reader, we are getting along so 
rafHdly that we are already ahead of our 
story, and must needs turn back, for cer- 
tainly d^;ression is a sin. And here let 
me imform you, that through the kind in- 

terpoeition of Mr. S , my friend Miss 

£— — at last became oonvinoed that I 
was a single man, And then she be- 
came — ^if possible^more friendly than 
ever. Two or three long hours were 
passed in conversation. While talking, 
we often looked down on the smooth, 
glassy waters of the Bay, that lay sleep- 
ing in unconcioas quietude and beauty. 
The breeie of the afternoon that had 
disturbed ito waters and roified ito bosom 
had died away, and all was calm-Msalm 
as might be with asure skies above us in 
June — and the moon peering forth from 
beneath her silvery soreen, with all a- 
ronnd hushed into an ondisturbed still- 
ness. 

Slowly we arose from our grassy seat, 
and east a lingering, silent glance upon 
the waters of the Bay as we descended 
Telegraph Hill. We had yet some dis- 
tonce to go, before reaching the home of 
Mr. S , and of oonrse I had to accom- 
pany him thither. But» alas I for the for- 
getfulness of man 1 (isn't it astonishing, 
reader) that I should not have thought to 
ask permission of an angel like Miss 
E ■ ■ to see her safely home, as is the 
usual custom T 

So it was; but, then, I was again lost, 
lost — ^I presume in astonishment, at be- 
holding such beauty : However, she re- 
minded me of my negligence, by asking 
me to " escort her home." 

I apologised for my almost unpardon- 
able transgression of the rules of polite- 
ness, by allowing a lady to ask me to see 
her home. If ever I do the like again, 
may a dosen of the fair creatures wait 
on me with broom-sticke and tongs, and 



82 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



after seeing me — ^forgiye me— that's all. 

We reached the house of Mr. S in 

safety; entered the parlor; seated our- 
seWes; and listened to a beautiful air, 
elegantly played on the piano by Miss 

£ , after which, it being nearly the 

hour of tweke, I hastily arose to depart, 
for fear of another infringement on the 
rules of well regulated society, — being 
in company after midnight. We heard 
one of the city clocks strike the approach- 
ing hour of mom, and bidding my friends 
good-night, I hastened to my boarding- 
house, delighted with the pleasure I had 
experienced during the evening, at the 
same time feeling a little vexed at my in- 
discretion, telling a falsehood to ladies, and 
forgetting to offer to escort one of earth's 
angels to her home. Never mind; we 
are married now, and often jokingly al- 
lude to the evening when first we met on 
Telegraph Hill. Yes, reader, the once 

beautiful Miss E ^ has become the 

lovely bride of Mr. . She is one of 

the best and most accomplished of ladies 
I ever saw. Maybe I think so because 
she is mine. That is generally the way: 
every one who has a good wife thinks 
there is none like her among womankind. 

If, however, I am wrong in my opin- 
ion of her, you, kind reader, will forgive 
me, because I know not my error, in as 
much ais I am earnest in my belief. 

Nearly two years have passed since 
first we met on that lovely moonlit eve in 
June ; and years of happiness have they 
been. A little bright-eyed boy, our only 
treasure, looks up in our faces at times 
and smiles, as he says, ** Mamma and 
Papa." He is our little pet, and his 
mother says he will be a poet. If so, I 
hope the fairest of '* the sacred Nine " 
will smile graciously, and bestow on him 
her choicest gift — the gift of true Poesy. 
His parents' smile now guard him. I 
have told you we were happy. And tru- 
ly happy are our friends, Mr. and Mrs. 
S . We often visit each other and in- 



terchange tokens and words of firiendship. 

We meet as friends of old, 
And meet with joys untold. 

Our friends are delighted to know ire 
enjoy life so well, and we are equally 
proud to know that they are happy, while 
we hope, kind reader, your happiness is, 
and will remain, as perfect as ours. R. 

THE MILL WHEEL. 



Translated from the German, 

BT PBOr. JOBH COCBEAll. 



Within a glen, the beeches high 

O'ershadow a mill-wheel : 
I gaze, but no more meets mine eye 

The maiden of the dell. 

To me in truth the nuiiden spoke. 

And long ere we did part 
A ring she gave ; woe's me 1 it broke. 

And broken is my heart. 

Oh, I will fiee ! a harper be. 

The world I'll travel o'er, 
My wild and fitful melody 

I'll play from door to door. 

Or, hush I I'll be a soldier bold. 

And seek new scenes afar. 
Fight, march, bivouack in wet and oold. 

And follow glory's star. 

But when I hear the mill wheel go, 
Strange thoughts wake in my breast ; 

'Twere best to die— so great's my woe — 
The mill wheel then would rest. 

THE ARTIST AND THE MAY QUEEN. 



BT M. V. TINQLIT. 



CHAPTER I. 
Thk last train of cars came rumbling 
into Greenwood, a beautiful village of 
the West, and a few travelers made their 
way to the hotel. It was the last day of 
April, in 1848, and happy children were 
carrying armsfuU of green vines and 
apronsfuU of sweetest flowers that had 



THE AETIST AND THS MAY QUEEN. 



83 



ftwmkenod mi the genial April showers. 

These were to decorate their homes 
with festoons, and to loop up the pretty 
white swiss-dresses and to place over the 
fafows of the little girls, on the next day 
at the crowning of their May Qaeen» 
thai wae to take place in a lovely grove 
abowt a mile from town. 

Amoogthe few who arrived on that 
ereoiBg were two gentlemen — an elderly 
one, and his nephew, a young artist, his 
papiL The former, Mr. Jevet, was a 
very edehrated French artist, who had 
eooM to New York many years before. 
Hie brother married an American lady, 
and soon after died, leaving one son. The 
untie, knowing that the boy had a genius 
far painting, when he was sixteen, gain- 
ed the widow's consent for him to be- 
rime hie stodent Never was there hap- 
pier than he, when brought to the city 
end taken into Mr. Jevet's studio. In a 
satie of rooms adjoining, the walls were 
hong with the most beautiful pictures 
that hie young artistic eye had ever gaz- 
ed opoa. The floor was covered with a 
tieh carpet, and the windows were hung 
with erimson satin curtains, which by 
the touch of a spring, could be drawn 
•flde, eo that any amount of light de- 
firsd might be had when viewing the 



With hard study and diligent applica- 
taon, he in a few years made wonderful 
progrese in that art His beautiful pic- 
terse began to gain such favor with the 
■nele that they were allowed to occupy 
a conspieaoas place on the walls of the 
gallcty. 

Leon, for that was his name, began to 
dears to travel about, and see different 
perls of our country. Mr. Jevet, appreci- 
attag hie love for nature and anxious to do 
■aythiog to advance him in his profee- 
■MB, ae well as affording himself the 
1,1 uatast pleasure, gladly assented to the 
pcopositioD of their going through the 
States. Accordingly they traveled South, 
sad were now visiting the West, where 



there is beauty enough for any artisfs 
delight. 

Arriving at Greenwood, they were glad 
to know that a May-party would take 
place on the following day, as they well 
knew that nothing is more beautiful to one 
with a kind heart— or with any heart — 
than a group of children dressed in their 
angel-white, romping with the flowers. 
They were awakened the next morning, 
hearing the merry bells ringing, and find- 
ing everything as pleasant as any May 
morning ought to be. 

An invitation was tendered them to be 
present at the crowning in the grove. At 
ten o'clock, the children, headed by a 
band of music, marched to the woods — 
a platform was arranged, arched over 
with flowers and vines; a rude chair cov- 
ered over with flowers, was the " botal 
THRONi." And now came little maids- 
of-honor with baskets of flowers, which 
they strewed in the Queen's pathway. 
Ah I there she is, pretty little creature 1 
She stands before the spectators, consis- 
ting of schoolmates, parents and friends. 
There is not much beauty about those 
features, taken separately — but the witch- 
ing smile is ever lighting up the whole 
face with a softness and sweetness. Then 
a childish face is pretty anyhow. The 
wind occasionally blowing through the 
trees, threw the golden curls away from 
her face, where they would keep filing 
near her eyes. A youth placed a crown 
of white daisies and red rose-buds and 
green on her brow, as she knelt on the 
soil moss-cushion ; and after an acknowl- 
edgment, the little Queen took her throne. 
Then came youths and young maidens 
to pay homage to '* her majesty." This 
over, they wandered away in groups a- 
mong the trees. 

Leon Jevet had watched the little queen 
from the first, and now as she left her 
throne, and the band was playing a lively 
air, he sought her among the other chil- 
dren, and an opportunity presenting it- 
self, spoke to her. 



84 



HUTOHINGS' OAUFORMA MAGAZINE. 



« 



« 



»i 



t<{ 



"What is her young majestj'B name T' 
said he. 

May," replied she ,' Mayiola." 
Why, what a romantic name \ You're 
a May-violet, are you ? A very pretty 
flower, and a very appropriate name for 
a May Queen." 

"Do you love flowers? do you like 
violets best of all ? May violets sweet from 
their woodland retreat 7" spoke the girl 
looking up with more confidence, as 
though she liked his pleasantness. 

" Oh, you're poetical, little one, I guess 
— ^like verses. Do I love violets best of 
all? TesI but I don't often find them 
capable of making rhymes." 

"I learned that in my "Theodore 
Thinker Botany," there is a great deal 
more of it." 

Do you admire pictures. May?" 
Oh, yes sir 1 don't you ? Grandmoth- 
er has a great many old pictures in her 
big room, and I look at them just as long 
as I wish to." And off she bounded to 
some of her schoolmates who were about 
enjoying a feast, spread upon the green 
by the brookside. 

The young man was charmed with the 
child of ten or eleven summers ; her fas- 
cinating young face, beaming with intelli- 
gence, her prompt childish address and 
sweet look had won him greatly. By 
and bye she came back with her dress 
caught up full of flowers, and throwing 
them at his feet, said: 

"There are flowers for you, sir, if you 
vrant them; I gathered them all for you !" 

She seemed to like Leon, and knowing 
he was a stranger, thought he was lonely, 
standing by that tree so long, and only 
looking. He took a few violets from them, 
and placed them smoothly between the 
leaves of his memorandum to press. 

The day was almost gone when they 
prepared to go home. Leon had during 
the day been informed by the intelligent 
landlady of the hotel that she gave May 
piano lessons, and that she should look at 



his pictures on the following morning. 
The following day found May at the 
landlady's, practicing her music lesson, 
and singing a simple song; all of which 
Mr. Jevet had heard firom his room, ad- 
joining the parlor. The landlady bnmght 
the ehild into his room, and she was soon 
enjoying herself, wadingthrough bis large 
portfolio. She, in turning the leaTes, 
camc/to one, a small one, and holding it 
up before the lady, exclaimed : " Why it 
is 1 1 " when did you paint that? " 

" Last evening, after seeing you as the 
May Queen, you little witch 1 — do jon 
think it pretty ? 

" Oh, yes, sir, — ^that is, it is good — jast 
see I there's my crown on my head, and 
my dress, and my flowers, and everything! 
Was there ever anything so pretty? May 
I take it to mamma ? she will be so de- 
lighted 1 " 

" Not yet — ^it is not finished. In a day 
or two." 

" Oh, my I is'nt it splendid? everybody 
will wonder so much — I'm so glad — How 
kind you are; I'll always love you," said 
she, as she left the room, looking earnest- 
ly in his face. 

The next May mom came, just as love- 
ly as the first, with sunlight, birds and 
new-bom flowers. 

May's mother arrayed her in her queen 
dress, just as she was crowned ; and took 
her to the artist. 

" Ah, now sit down and let me give 
your picture a few finishing touches." 

One hour and it was much more natu- 
ral looking than before. On the follow- 
ing afternoon Leon left Greenwood, pre- 
vious to which he sent Maviola the pio- 
ture. 

A few months more Mr. Jevet 8r. and 
Mr. Jevet Jr. wandered, before reaching 
New York. 

A year afterwards and Leon's studio 
was in a very artist-like shanty — ^that is, 
a very poor one— near San Franoisoo Bay. 



THE ARTIST AND THE MAT QUEEN. 



85 



CHAPTER II. 

**That graad tableaa partj oomes off 
tbia erening/' 

•• What-of irho8»-or where?" 

-At Mn. Baylor's, in Powell street." 

Mr. Jeret wm a friend of hers, and he 
being an artist, was solicited to arrange 
tbe tableaoz. 

'*KTangeline" was the third on the 
fi*t» and wassosfeained by Miss Ajlet, 
from tbe Tieinitj of Sacramento. 

Taiy beaatifnl she looked, and so 
thought Mr. Je?et, as he carefully turned 
her pretty head to one side and smoothed 
tbe bands of hair from her brow. He 
was tbere through many rehearsals. Miss 
Biova, a young lady of twenty-fire, de- 
to appear as " ETangeline," but 
ni thought as well suited for the 
charaeler as the pretty, young Miss Ay let. 

** I'm aure her hmr is too light and her 
•yes leo blue ! mine are brown— just the 
eQlor,"said Miss Brown, anxiously; and 
tboagh Mr. Jeret agreed in part with her 
yet npoo the whole he thought the other 
lady worthy of the choice. The truth is, 
Miss Blown was always partial — ^rather 
partial to the artist, and was not pleased 
vhea tbe blue-eyed young lady was 
shown Bueh attention by him. 

Wdl, tbe morning came, then noon, 
•ad, aa tbe twilight gare way to night, 
carnagea rolled up to the atone steps, and 
bafere long the spacions front-parlor and 
kail were filled with expectant guests. 

It was done ! Mr. Jevet'a heart here* 
tflfere aeamtng impregnable, certainly re- 
••irad a tarrible shock, if we might judge 
by its load beating aaahe aat by theoroes 
ia bar alill and magnificent beauty. 

la elMreh-jmrdt atnjtd, aad fAMd 
ftDd tombatonct, 
ffnv», ftad tkMffM that per- 
IsilabMOM, 
I alrMfdj at imt, aad tba biifft4 to alainbtr 




" Tba meat beautiful Ubleaa I ever 
ml" be azelaimed, aa the curtains 



Some one gently thumping his elbow, 
dispelled his viitionary thoughts in a yery 
unpoetio way, and who should it be but 
Miss Brown, who obserred that " £yan- 
geline winked once. It would haye 
been better if she had kept her eyes shut" 

" Neyer I with their great depth of ex- 
pression I" replied he. 

The lady patted her little foot^-a way of 
getting relief when the tongue must keep 
silent, I guess — is'n't it? '* I wish she had 
stayed in the country, the little white- 
headed piece of monopoly," thought she. 

Then the dance, handsome dresses, and 
pretty ladies — good music, and happy 
hearts ( all but one.) 

Where is the belle ? Ah, there I with 
the white dress and iyy wreath — ^yery 
different looking from the dark dress 
worn in " Eyangeline" — and a bouquet 
of yiolets. 

The dark artist led her off in the 
dance, and yery pompous he looked, a 
whole head taller than the lily leaning 
gracefully on his arm. I wonder if he 
neyer before ascertained that her yoioe 
was so sweet, her form so pretty, and she 
altogether so loyely and wonderfully ba- 
witching? Oh, some men are such stu- 
pids, anyhow 1 Well, I'm glad to think 
that he at length found some one who 
could make him obsequiously bow hia 
imperious head and own the great power 
of dainty woman's loye. If I had been 
there, I should most certainly hare exer- 
daed a spirit of coquetry, eren if I had 
loyed him, for a time — or at least a little 
innocent, proyoking roguery. I tell yon 
it's fine fun when a young man is in that 
predicament, to just look prettily out of 
one's eyea till a flower is giren, and then 
to careleaaly nibble it, and ao on. Any 
miachieyous girl would haye done ao; he 
need not haye been ao unbending in hia 
pride before. But I don't think that aha 
was ao cruelly wicked for ahe smiled one 
continual sweet smile, danced most graoe- 
fttlly, and sang in a delightfully charm- 



86 



nUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



ing manner. Now, I should'nt hare done 
80— at least T would have sang very sweet- 
ly half-way through a piece— just a pro- 
voking distance, and then have walked 
away with an air of perfect nonchalance 
—coughing a little — scarcely enough to 
excite sympathy — and have been too in- 
dependent to receive any whatever. 

This evening came to an end as all 
other evenings do— only it appeared much 
shorter — to some there present, if not to 
all. 

The next morning Mr. Jevet called 
and requested to be permitted to paint 
"Evangeline," as she appeared the eve- 
ning before. 

"Many thanks," said Miss Aylet, "but 
I return home on tomorrow, therefore it 
is impossible." 

" I'm very sorry 1 It would have made 
a fine picture, you were very beautiful 
that evening," said he in a careless, com- 
plimentary way, taking good care to 
watch how it was received ; and right 
pleased was he when he noticed the 
slight blush it occasioned. 

"Oh, I'll arrange that," chimed in 
Mrs. Baylor, "I'm going to take my 
family there and spend April with her, 
and you can go along, and paint her there 
and then." 

"Tesl wo would be so delighted to 
have you come!" and she was sorry that 
she had spoken with su6h frankness. 

" Perhaps I may," replied he. 

April came and Mrs. Baylor departed 
for "Wild wood." She wrote a note and 
sre long the artist followed. 

He evidently enjoyed sitting under the 
great bay tree that leaned over the brook, 
painting " Evangeline, " as Miss Aylet 
daily sat there, during which time she 
read him the poem. 

" I'm sure that I understand the char- 
acter much better when the description is 
given by your sweet voice, than when read- 
ingit myself in my prosy way. Now read 
something else — sorry that is finished be- 



fore the painting. I'm almost certain 
you'll have to read something else as 
pretty, or I shall not paint as well," said 
Mr. Jevet smiling. At the same momeot 
a servent brought her a letter. 

"Excuse a-moi, I must run off jast 
a minute." 

"I'll never love any one else!" said he 
to himself as she slipped away. 

"I'm very sure I'll ever, ever love 
him ; but it wouldn't do to let him know 
itl" thought she as she peeped over his 
shoulder. 

Who wrote the letter? Miss Brown, of 
course. In it she says : — " Now darling, 
don't think of admiring Mr. Jevet ( cer- 
tainly you wouldn't think of loving him 
upon such a short acquaintance, you're 
too politic for that,) for between you and 
Joe and I, Miss Alsay says it is her pos- 
itive opinion that he and Miss BuUer are 
to be buried — ^married I mean— just as 
soon as the Napa Hotel opens at the 
Springs in the Fall. Don't mention a 
word, dear, for she is a very fascinating 
and loveable young lady, and will doubt- 
less make him much happier than you 
could^-or, I cither — ^you know he always 
tried to set his cap for me, but indeed I 
never did like^ain^^ — ^they always make 
me think of, and bring my poetical ideas 
down to, bent-heads, poverty, and cold 
potatoes. Detestable, isn't it? Onr 
tastes are congenial, therfore you must 
think so, also. He just likes to roost in 
the sweet country awhile — selfish thing I 
— ^but still he is quite good — very gentle- 
manly. I'm dying to see you— -oome 
back soon — very soon, dearest. 

Au revoir. 

Affectionately 
Akna BaowN." 

"Oh, she's only jealous I but nol now 
I think of it, he did dance twice with 
Miss Butler, and only four times with me 
— ^ungrateful — ^yes, yes, it must be so! 
Thanks, dear Miss Brown! There! take 
your pressed buds and flowers that I had 



THE ARTIST AND THE MAT QUEEN. 



87 



k«pt M> loog McreUj next my heart I He 
fJiall never know I did to — I'll show 
«BM eiHrit.'' So the sat day after day, 
and at limee appeared bo bewitohingly 
agreeable, then so indifferent — 00 very 
cmA, 

He aaw the change and was sad, for he 
vae to return to San Franoieoo, in a few 



''It is iniahed I it is finished I '' he ex- 
claimed on May morning as Miss Aylet 
came oat from the house, dressed like an 
sBgel ebild in white Swiss and sprays of 
fiowera. Her heretofore plain bands of 
hair were now hanging in golden ring- 
legs eoqaetishly blowing about her face 
and bine eyes. 

'* Oh, it ia so beantifnl I" she exclaim- 
ed, claaping her hands and looking up 
mto the artist's eyes. 

'^ Whyl that expression — ^how much it 
nmiaded me of a Kttle child which I 
paiaied eight or ten years ago. Why 
the Terj same hair and eyes! I'd pick 
yo« np and run away with you if your 
instead of being Kitty, was only 



ff 



** Miss May, Miss May I I've come for 
the promised bunch of moss roses for sis- 
ter's may-dress 1" cried a neighbor's lit* 
lit bcj, from the garden gate. 

** Why 1 that name — the very one 1 I 
thos^bt they ealled you KitiyJ' 

''Thafs only a pet name in the family. 
My name is MaTiola — ^but I must go and 
cat the roses for little Sallie Light — she's 
to be crowned to day in the grove, half a 
■ile from here. We're all going at 
tvdve o'clock. I'm now going to dress 



ft 



** Where is that picture which I paint- 
sr of yon in Greenwood, nine years sgoT 
for swdy yoa are the same May." 

*' Is H possibler Yes— I hsTO a UtUe 
pifltore painted when I was May-Queen 



» 



** On May day? 
-Y« 



ff 



n 



"And at a hotel?" 

" Tes, yes! the very one! Just wait a 
minute— »here it is ! how sweetly pret- 
ty isn't it?" said she in a frank, childish 
way. 

" Tes — ^but not half as pretty as she is 
on this May morn — ^not near so lovely I 
Do you know, Miss May, that I always 
thought that little queen would be my 
wife? I said so when I painted it!" 

She dropped her eyes, but soon peeped 
up and with rather an arch look said — 
"And you her kingly husband? 

"Ahl Miss Aylet " 

" Tyrannical^ I meant, of course!" 

"Oh, cruel, most cruel I to say so. Tes, 
I always, ever believed that I should find 
you. In happiest or in saddest hours, 
oft^ a has that little face, and those little 
folded hands, looked up and said with 
such a pleasing and grateful look, 'How 
kind you are — I'll always love youl' 
and then I'd sit and wonder if the same 
sweet being would remember the lonely 
orphan, who for years has had no one 
else to love him. See these pressed and 
faded violets, that for nine years I have 
carried about with me I Tou gave them 
to me — the little May-Queen of Green- 
wood. That 1 loved tenderly then, as a 
child— and lately as I have been with 
you '* 

" Oh, stop 1 1 pray. Pity, Miss Butler 
should spoil it all — believe me, I know 
all about it!" and she tossed her cur- 
ly head saucily, and retreated into the 
house— doubtless to cry, had she not 
been obliged to defer it, as she was to 
arrange the Queen's dress. 

Oh, you little bundle of jealousy, why 
didn't yon hold your tongue ? I wanted 
to hear it all! Do yon suppose that I 
like to have such an important speech 

clipped off with a long dash ? no! I want- 
ed an atHstie, dashy declaration— one 
well becoming the worshipper at the 
shrine of all that is lovely and noble I 
Besides; isn't Mr. Jevefs big heart 



88 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAOAZIKB. 



breaking — and will be for half a daj to 
oome— which wiU Beem a week long^ 
you yoang destroyer of peace, and queen 
among heart-breakers I 

Noon-time! Leon Jeyet, why do you 
stand in that lonely way under that tree ? 
There comes the Queen at the sound of 
music. At one side stands Maviola look- 
ing like a queen herself. How Leon 
gazes upon her. The crowning is over. 
Away the children spring over the grass, 
among the flowers, by the water, under 
the trees. 

But no little one brings him spring 
flowers, or says one kind word to him. 
Mariola keeps away and tries to be very 
sprightly and happy. He goes to her. 



Soon away they are walking under th^ 
oaks that bend low. 

Well, I suppose there has been » re- 
conciliation, for two most happy faces 
are seen promenading among the pleas- 
ant places of Wildwood, and the spiall 
May-Queen's picture hangs under alife- 
siae one of Maviola as she appeared on 
the last May-day, and ''Evangeline'' hmm 
been set in a magnificent frame. 

" You're so kind 1 I'll always lore yoal" 

"Just to think how I happily found 
the little maiden and agpun hear tboae 
words." 

Two years have passed, and in Europe 
still travel the bridal pur — ^the artiat 
and the May-Queen. 



mm 



^ut Sothl €\ut. 



&8 unpleasant facts, with some people 
at least, are oftentimes more easily 
called to mind than pleasant ones, it 
perhaps may suffice, to such, merely to men- 
tion that the sun during the month of June 
'' In accordance with custom immemorial" 
gave this quarter of the world a general 
warming up. At that time we had the 
good fortune to be a wanderer among 
the cool shadows of the mountain walls of 
the great Yo-Semite valley, where at the 
hottest, in the shade, the thermometer stood 
only at 103® while in other places — Mari- 
posa for instance, according to the GautU^ 
it was 118® degrees in the shade ; hut we 
shall allow our jo vial hearted friend Holmes, 
its good humored editor, to tell his own 
story, just premising that his *' house of 
elay" being of the build denominated 
portly ^ he must have felt the inconvenience 
of such a thermoraetrical altitude, and 
prayed for its redaction to a reasonable 
figure. 

Thk WiATHsa. — The heat has never been 
more oppressive here than during the past 
two days. The Thermometer has ranged 
in the middle of the day, from 110® to 118® 



Last Tuesday night was too warm for sleept 
scarcely a breeze was felt, and the conse- 
quence was that people here generally 
looked rather hard next day. Lager Beer 
is in great demand now, and the average 
per diem amount consumed by amateur 
drinkers of the refreshing beverage, ranges 
from one to three gallons each. We have 
been informed that a society is being form- 
ed amongst the Lager fraternity, which, no 
doubt, will increase rapidlv in numbers, 
and may eventually knock the Dashaways 
in the shade. No one can become a mem- 
ber unless he gives satisfactory proof of his 
ability to drink a gallon of Lager in one 
hour, and to stand at least three gallons 
per day. Nothing stronger than brandy 
can be drank by a member, without sub- 
jecting him to the liability of being expell- 
ed. — ^Lager seems destined to carry the day 
here. 

But just listen to the San Mateo County 
GautU in reply to the interrogations for 
copy f^om that indispensable member of a 
printing office, named after the gentlemanly 
president of those excessively warm quar- 
ters, Ik and who is supposed, oven there, to 



f 



take ^ things coolly, in more senses thaa 
one: 

"OoPT?" You imp of darkness, have 



OUR SOCIAL CHAIB. 



89 



Ton Ui« aadaciij to ask for copj thii hot 
wcAther? Wbj, the thermometer stands 
at niaetj-eigfat in the coolest place in the 
evvotrj, and here yon are, boring as ior 
eopj. Leare, yoa black imp 1 get bejond 
the reach of this paste-pot, or Fli make you 
«ee •* — ^leam you .— ^-n some other calling, 
or put a . to jour satantc existence. Copy ! 
tlie Tety thought sends a f throogh oar 
braui. We wouldn't write a f for a A, 

much less for a $, and as for a , oh 1 

that's entirely out of the ? None of your 
! ! ! about lasiness, we say it's hot t Ah ! 
hold OB — h««'s some— giv's the scissors — 
here's a poor fellow in &tii Francisco com- 
mitted suicide, and McNuUy sat on him — 
be-rimsione 1 what a job for a hot day — 
aeTer mind, we'll appropriate that story, 
boft doa't yon give any credit for it. There, 
•ow, take your Mr IST out of your 
pockets, and go to work. Put some quoins 
around that wash woman's bill, lock 
mp the elephant— and separate the pi — put 
the •'Model Lady" on a galley, and <<The 
Daady" in the ease— place furniture round 
the '' New Boarding House,"— orerrun'^The 
Country," and put all the sub-heads in 
sssall caps — put the " Lumber" on the rack 
•mi «' The Briek" on the stone— get <* The 
Hay** to pccss, and hurry up '^The New 
Sukre*'— DUtribnte ''The Mormons," and 
lay "Judge Cradlebaugh" on one side- 
he's getting old. Justify that " Homicide" 
amd prove the "Murder." Tou may tie up 
the ^Fourth of July," the people don't 
eppear to be in want of it this year. Then 
go and jump in the creek and wash your 
'11 take it all to do it— and at the 
le time drire away the sharks ; every- 
body goes in swimming these hot days, 
sad somebody will get bitten, yet. And mind 
you doii^t come here again for copy before 
the next mail comes in. 

Wear a Jolly good old world this is af- 
ter aUI where wo have intellectual pleas- 
■res, svany days, smiling friends, snmptu- 
•os dinners and good wine— sometimes. 
What mnon caa the restless desire for ha- 
maa happlaese crave? — do these not em- 
braee all?— -are they not the "Qolden Se- 
cret»'* the sought " Kalon," of morUl bless- 
? So mused the Social Chair, as it 
Its baek eomfbrtably against the 
hard-ftaisbed wall and composed its nerv- 
ous ibres Into the calm tranquility of a de- 
The circumstances aad pos« 
Ibvorable fbr philosophising, aad 
H resumed : How grateful all chairs are, 



or ought to be, for so much happiness; how 
thankful for the manifold benefits with 
which a beneficent Providence has blessed 
their lot— the advantages of a free govern- 
ment — the enjoyment of plenty and pros- 
perity — ^the gift of a genial climate — 
the pleasure of operatic and dramatic 
amusements — ^the benefit of having sincere 
friends, and the luxury of social eomfort 
and refinement. Surely, a chair whose 
lot is cast in the midst of so many bless- 
ings cannot be discontented I At this stage 
of our meditations, we were interrupted by 
the expressman invading our sanctum, and 
depositing a huge pile of letters. By dint 
of great effort we roused ourself from the 
lethargic state into which we had fallen, 
and perused the mass of correspondence. 

They were mostly marked "confidential," 
but as we believe that confidence, like 
honor, can be entrusted in the hands of a 
few particular friends (I) we shall give the 
contents of a few of them to the reader. 

The first was enclosed in a large legal 
envelope, bearing the Seal of the State of 
California. It read thus : 

Saobamuto, July, ld59. 

JBnmabU Social Chunr:^ 

I steal a mome&t from the cares of Stale, 
to tell you how much I envy your happy 
lot. How blessed, could I flee from the 
hungry Cerberuses, who bark incessantly 
for their share of the loaves and fishes, 
aad become like you the center of a happy 
group! How willingly would I forego the 
harassing honors of my exalted place, to 
enjoy "the blessedness of being little;" 
how'gladly resign all thoughts of fame, to 
repose in quiet retirement like you. But 
the good of the people demands the sacri- 
fice of such comforts, and I still suffer on 
for their sake. Cbaib or Statb. 

This is well, we thought, but might be 
^better ( the irregularity of the adjec- 
tive spoiled the point ). most revered 
Chair of State I If happiness is not found 
in the high place which you occupy, where 
shall we look for It ? Do thousands plot, 
and work, and scheme, and disquiet them- 
selves to win the laurels which rest on your 
brow, and at last find it but a erown of 
thorns? — splendid mlsetyl — we do not envy 



90 



HUTCHINQS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



them. But here is a more humble letter. 

Surely that will tell of contentment, if it 

dwells not in high places : 

Ik thb Mountains, July, 1859. 

Uxaited Social Chair: 

You will pardon, I am sure, this intru- 
sion on your precious time. I should not 
speak, but Vhen I look upon those who 
fill elevated places in the world, and are 
great and famous, and then think of my 
lowly condition, something stirs within me 
that will not suffer me to remain silent. Is 
it just in Heaven to make our lots so un- 
equal? Why should I be confined, an 
humble camp-stool, in a miner's cabin, 
cherishing a '^discontented and repining 
spirit, burdensome to itself," while others 
enjoy the blessings of fame and greatness. 
Why am I not a Gubernatorial or Social 
Chair? — my material is as good — ^mahog- 
any and rosewood are no better than oak 1 
Answer me, most gracious Social Chair I 
why am I debarred from a position as ex- 
alted as yours ? Camp-Stool. 

Our " position" i» rather exalted, in one 
sense, being in the third story of a brick 
building, and we see no reason why you 
should not occupy one as elevated, if you 
can find a room on the third floor of any 
building equally high. We would, how- 
ever, warn yon that it has its inconveni- 
ences, and in case of earthquakes — ^very 
plansible cases, too, in our fair Yerba Bn- 
ena — it is by no means a desirable posi- 
tion. But, in another sense, we never 
deemed our lot exalted ; and we have seen 
happier days in the unrestrained and reck- 
less freedom of a miner's cabin, than we 
should hope to find in the palace? of kings. 

Another letter : 

From a Siok-aoom, July, 1869. 
Happy Social Chair: 

Do not deem it entirely the peevishness 
of illness — though it may be a desire for 
kindly sympathy — if I am fretful and dis- 
contented; for who could languish day af- 
ter day with pain, in the close room of 
sickness, and not feel their spirit buru with 
envy at the happy lot of hearty people, and 
the comfort felt in occupying elastic spring- 
bottomed chairs ? I've no patience to live 
nor endure ; I wish my whole framework 
was crashed to pieces. My back, legs and 
arms, my whole system, are but a seat for 
disease and pain. 

Envying your happiness, I remain an 

Invalid Chair. 



If kindly sympathies and earnest good 
wishes can avail, they are most freely and 
most cordially tendered by this Social 
Chair to his invalid brother. And the com- 
fort proffered would be in the shape of ad- 
vice — which is easy to give, and, perhaps, 
as unpleasant to take, as any kind of med- 
icine — ** Never say die." This Chair, when 
it strayed away to Mexico for a short time, 
and became prostrated by the coast fever, 
was requested by its physician to square 
up its accounts with the world, and pre- 
pare to— vamosj made reply, "No, Dr., 
he don't mean to do anything of the kind — 
in this God-forsaken country. You can't 
kill him — not this time. He does not be- 
lieve in dying yet, or for many years to 
come." " Why, then," rejoined the doctor, 
laughing, " I may as well cure you up at 
once. If you keep up a strong heart, I 
can soon cure you." And he did. A word 
to the wise, Ac. 

But here is another letter, whose delicate 
perfume seems to tell of the possession of 
that precious gift, contentment. The dain- 
ty envelope, nicely embossed, with the 
figure of a violet, speaks of modesty, — ^we 

knew the language of flowers in our youth, 
— and the writing is neat as the tracings of 
a fiiiry's fingers 

Dear Social Chair : — I want to ask you a 
question — I could ask a good many, but I 
have one particular one about which I have 
bothered and bothered my head, till I'm 
fairly giddy. You know I'm a poor little 
Sewing Chair. Well, then, I'm not satis- 
fied with being always a little home-spun 
thing, shut up in a small chamber, and 
stitching, stitching, stitching, forever; it 
isn't fair— is it? I don't want to be, like 
some Sewing'ChairsI know — a great office- 
chair, or a bar-room chair, nor even a Social 
Chair — although that would be very nice ; 
but I fPotUd like to be one of those carved 
rosewood, velvet-cushioned chairs, which 
bury their dainty feet in the sofi Brussels 
carpets of splendid parlors, and do nothing 
the whole day long — oh, wouldn't 1 1 Now, 
what I want to know is, is it wrong to 
think so 7 My venerable grandmother — 
the quaint-looking old chair in the corner 
— says it is, and calls it all silliness and 
romantic nonsense ; but, as I rock to and 
fro, I can't help wishing it, even if it be 
wrong. Very affectionately, 

SswiNQ Chair. 



OUR SOCIAL CHAIR. 



91 



P. S. — ^A plain Windsor-chair, a yer^ 
good one, too, wants me to come and sit 
beeide him in his home. I feel half in- 
dinod to go ; but, then, yon know, Wind- 
sor chairs are such common, inelegant 
Uitags; besides, if I wait a little while, 
pefflutpa, I shall g^t into a grand parlor. 
with rosewood and Brussels company t 

S.C. 

<^Dear Social Ohair," "affectionately 
yovrs," are certainly yery flattering ; and 
ehbo* yoQ, Miss Sewing-Chair, in accord- 
laee with tbe asnal custom of your sex — 
giyiog the entire gist of the letter in a P. 
S. — ^wo beg to offer the following answer to 
yo«r confidential ( 1 ) communication : — 
llaaj spinsters (and bachelors too) unfor- 
taaaldj have listened to a gentleman of 
plawihie address named " I Procrasti- 
rhose character for honesty has al- 
ezceedingly doubtful, especially 
ia the article of Time, as well as hap- 
piaeas, so that in fiye cases out of six, 
tba oaa golden opportunity of a life-time 
allowed to pass unimproyed. 
I, we would not ba ungallant 
to suggest that your allusion to the 
Windsor-chair has anything sel- 
isb ia it, of course not. 

All the above communications being du- 
ly azamined, we haye resolyed ourself into 
e eovmlttee of one to consider the ques- 
tioa^chair already filled. Discontent it 
voold seem, is inherent in the human soul 
— evaa the angels fell by it. It is useless 
to op p o s e philosophy against the inborn 
principles of our natures ; the Stoic may 
ichool himself to the utmost perfection in 
Us teaats, but still the human heart is hn- 
•aa, aad men will weep and laugh, and 
(rieya and gladden the same as eyer. Con- 
ftment la certainly a jewel of priceless 
valve; bat aa we cannot all possess jewels, 
aeither can we all enjoy the spirit of Con- 
But when we have prosperous times, 
i/days,sasiling friends, somptnous din- 
asrs, and good wine, and are not happy, we 
ws iika the man who sees priceless treasures 
icattered around him, which he will not 
Moop to gather, yet still complains of pov- 
«ty. And if after all, Chairs wiU stUl be 



discontented, we must remember that Char- 
ity covers a maltitnde of sins. 



With a score of the nicest apologies in 
readiness for our fair Fashion editress, 
should she deem we are encroaching upon 
her particular grounds, we cannot resist 
the temptation of treating the reader to the 
annexed clever satire on the frequently ri- 
diculous unsuitableness of fashionable at- 
tire, scissoredfVomJrving's 5aZma^n^<. It 
is not only a proof of the skill of the Satirist, 
but an indication that humanity preserves 
the same weaknesses and follies in every 
generation, that the thrust — with the ex- 
ception of a few articles of apparel which 
have gone into disuse — applies as well now 
as to the time it was first written — ^fifly 
years ago : 

" If the weather be very cold, a thin mus- 
lin gown or frock is most advisable, be- 
cause it agrees with the season, being per* 
fectly cool. The neck, arms, and particu- 
larly the elbows bare, in order that they 
may be agreeably painted and mottled by 
Mr. JoBN FaosT, nose -painter-general, of 
the color of Castile soap, Shoes of kid, 
the thinnest that can be procured — as they 
tend to promote colds, and make a lady 
look interesting — ( t. e. grizzly ). Picnic 
silk stockings, with lace clocks, flesh-color- 
ed, are most fashionable, as they have the 
appearance of bare legs — nudity being all 
the rage. The stockings carelessly bespat- 
tered with mud, to agree with the gown, 
which should be bordered about three in* 
ches deep with the most fashionable color- 
ed mud that can be found: the ladies per- 
mitted to hold up their trains, after they 
have swept two or three streets, in order 

to show the clocks of their stockings. 

The shawl scarlet, crimson, flame, orange, 
salmon, or any other combustible or brim- 
stone color, thown over one shoulder, like 
an Indian blanket, with one end dragging 
on the ground. 

N. B. If the ladies have not a red shawl 
at hand, a red petticoat turned topsy-turvy 
over the shoulders would do just as well. 
This is called being dressed k la drabble. 

When the ladies do not go abroad of a 
morning, the usual chimney-comer dress 
is a dotted, spotted, striped, or cross-barred 
gown ; a yellowish, whitish, smokish, dir- 
ty-colored shawl, and the hair curiously 
ornamented with little bits of newspapers, 
or pieces of a letter from a dear friend. 
This is called the *< Cinderella-dress." 



92 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



The recipe for a full dress is as follows: 
take of spider-net, crape, satin, gymp, cat- 
gut, gauze, whalebone, lace, bobbin, rib- 
bons, and artificial flowers, as much as will 
rig out the congregation of a village 
church; to these, add as many spangles, 
beads, and gew-gaws as would be sufficient 
to turn the heads of all the fashionable 
fair ones of Nootka-sound. Let Mrs. Toole 
or Madame Bouchard patch all these arti- 
cles together, one upon another, dash them 
plentifully over with stars, bugles, tinsel, 
and they will altogether form a dress, 
which, hung upon a lady's back, cannot fail 
of supplying the place of beauty, youth, 
and grace, and of reminding the spectator 
of that celebrated region of finery, called 
Bag Fair, 



The wickedness and degeneracy of man 
shall surely meet with a just retribution, 
in proof whereof witness the following chap- 
ter, BO delicately tinctured with the spirit 
of mental strength as associated with fem- 
ininity. At first perusal of it we felt in- 
clined to express a pair of unmentionables 
to the fair writer as an appropriate tribute 
to her evident powers of mind; but, as hap- 
pens often with editorial dignitaries, the 
wardrobe contained but a single pair of 
those necessary articles, we had time to de- 
liberate more calmly; and finally subject- 
ing all sense of injured pride of manhood 
to the fine chivalrous devotion we enter- 
tain for the sex, we bowed, much in the 
spirit of a hen-pecked husband we suppose, 
and mentally exclaimed **0 most venerable 
Aunt Thusa; if it should please the gentle 
nature of your sex, spare the rod: but, nev- 
ertheless, not my will but thine be-accom- 
plishedl" 

A CHAPTEB ON THB TIMES. 

How times have changed since I was a 
girl; sometimes I can't believe we live on 
the same globe, the order of things seems 
so entirely reversed. Formerly it was the 
cnstom for the women-folks to do the vis- 
iting, gossiping, slandering, &c. They were 
accounted the '' scandal-mongers," "back- 
biters," and everything else which was cal- 
culated to inspire a feeling of fear ; but 
now, since elections are held upon a new 
plan, by fifty different parties, or fkctiuns, 



where there was but one, we poor females 
are obliged to shrink within the Hmita of 
our crinoline, hide our diminished heads, 
and in the language of some modern poli- 
tician acknowledge ourselves "gone in," 
or a passenger for the first Salt River pack- 
et. We never confetted enmity for any one 
except to some intimate friend like Mrs. 
Jones, Mrs. Smith, or a dozen others ; bnt 
there is no denying that we frequently met 
those with the most insinuating smile, for 
whom we felt the most bitter hatred. All 
this was right among the daughters of Bre, 
bnt who could pardon such a thing in the 
sons of her worthy husband ? I remem- 
ber once when Grandma wanted to get all 
her quilting done for nothing, and save the 
dollar poor lame Nancy so mneh needed, 
she visited all the neighbors, told the chil- 
dren pretty stories, sent cakes to the half- 
grown misses, and gave many other proofi 
of her wufyinff friendship for her diMr, good, 
neighbors. The resolt can easily be seen, 
the quilting was done, the d(41ar saved. 
All this was among wom«», bnt see my chil- 
dren to what extent this is now carried on 
among meriy from whom better things might 
be expected. 

Here comes No. 1, a candidate for some 
office,all ill-feeling towards everybody it for- 
gotten. He knows eTerybody, Hkst every- 
body, feels deeply interested in everybody's 
welfare, is willing to aamt everybody, ywe9 
everybody five doUarsl is assured of «Mpy- 

boefy*8 support, and goes home sure of 

a defeat. 

Following in his footsteps, comes No. 8, 
goes to the tame people^ inquires alter the 
health of every family, feeds every dirty- 
faced boy on oranges and candy, b^s every 
mamma to " please name that beauttfhl, 
sweet, lovely, (red haired, freckle nosed) 
baby after him, as he wishes to edueaie it, 
work for it, leave it kit fortune," (consisting 
of two shot bags, and one powder flask) 
slips $5,26, (remember only two bits more) 
into Daddy's hand and goes home sure of 
an election. 

Ah, my children, as I said befbre, inch 
work was pardonable among oa, but can 



OUR SOCIAL CHAIR. 



93 



H be «zcvMd in MENf When will the 

food old times retain, when the male part 

of the commonitj knew friend from foe 7 

when will men deal openlj and honestly 

with each other, and leare the work of in- 

trigee for woman? If she had not been 

the best calcnlated, would not the serpent 

have goae to Adam instead of assigning 

this effice to Ere ? How I wish to be young 

again. 

AvHT Thvsa. 

Wso that has erer yielded to the wild 
deliriitm of ** a long, long kiss, a kiss of 
yonth and love," but will appreciate the 
•aqvimle beauty of the following lines, 
clipped from an exchange ? Their force of 
expmeioD and passionate feeling, the spir- 
it of intense devotion, idolatry for one loved 
bciag which they breathe, is scarcely ez- 
eaOed ia all the range of American poetry : 

TOO KISSED MB. 

BT MiM nasn 1. Huirr. 

Toe kismd me I My head had drooped low 

ea your breast, 
With a feeling of pleaeore and infinite rest. 
Whale the holy emotions my tongue dared 

BOt speak, 
Fleehcd up like a flame, from my heart to 

my cheek. 
Toor arms held me fast — Oh 1 your arms 

were so bold, 
Bear! beat against heart to their passionate 

hold I 
Toer glances seemed drawing my soul 

through my eyes, 
As the sun draws the mist from the sea to 

the skies; 
And your lips clung to mine, till I prayed 

in my bliss. 
They might never unclasp from that rap- 

tsroos kiss. 

Toe kissed me I My heart, and my breath, 

and my will, 
In delirious joy for the moment stood still ; 
Lilb had for me then no temptations — no 



To nestle once more in the haven of rest. 
With your lips upon mine, and my head on 
your breast. 

Tou kissed me I My soul in a bliss so di- 
vine. 
Reeled and swooned like a drunken man, 

foolish with wine, 
And I thought 'twere delicious to die then, 

if death 
Would come while my mouth was yet moist 

with your breath ; 
'Twere delicious to die if my heart might 

grow cold, 
While your arms wrapt me round in that 

passionate fold — 
And these are the questions I ask day and 

night : 
Must my life taste but one such exquisite 

delight? 
Would you care if your breast were my 

shelter as then 7 
And if yon were here — would you kiss me 

again ? 



Ko vista of pleasure— outside of your arms; 
And were I this instant an angel, possessed 
Of the glory and peace that are given the 

blest, 
I would fling my white robes unrepiningly 

down. 
And tear from my head its most beautiful 



It is not our intention to particularise 
as much as usual this time,but will give 
some general information, having fully ac- 
quainted you with " The Seasons" shape 
of Ladies* Bonnets, styles of head-dresses, 
cut of dresses, how to trim them, and 
what to make them of, and lastly how to 
dress the boys and git Is. 

This you will remember holds good for 
three months, and " the end is not yef 

It may truly be said, no part of her pro- 
fession proves a milliner a true artist so well 
as being able to adapt her creations to the 
personal peculiarities of her patrons, for 
that which looks well on one, will be found 
wholly unsuited to another. With the 
hope that among the number of Bonnets 
we shall describe as pretty, our readers may 
each find one to suit their mind, we will 
at once proceed. 

1. Fancy Straw Bonnets, trimmed with 
corn-poppies and grass. 

2. Bonnets made of plain white straw, 
edged with black, the top of the crown 
open-work, the cape oomposed of alternate 
rows of plain and open-work straw edged 
with black, trimmed with bright variega- 
ted roses, with mixture of black and white 



04 



HUTCniNGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZIXB. 



blond. (Inside) white tab and a bow of 
narrow ribbon on the top, striped in col- 
ors to suit the flowers, strings to match, 
and very wide. 

3. Tuscan Bonnet, with cape trimmed 
with straw cord and tassel and bunches of 
wheat (Inside) a wreath of field flowers. 

4. White crape Bonnet, over the crown 
is a rounded fall of black blond lace, on 
one side is three pendant cactus flowers, 
with crimped crape leaves, on the opposite 
side green and brown grasses with mixture 
of elder berries. (Inside) blond lace ruches 
very full, with a small white marabout 
feather on each side, bow of pink ribbon 
on top and pink strings. 

6. Bonnet of pink silk, composed of three 
folds, inclined towards the crown, from 
which falls a white blond lace reaching 
nearly over the crown and dropping loose- 
ly over the sides to the cape, a wreath of 
green leaves across the top where the lace 
joins, connecting each side with a bunch 
of daisies and violets. (Inside) a wreath of 
daisies and strings of silk. 

6. Bonnets of fine split straw, with a rich 
straw cord and tassels knotted at the top 
of the front, white marabout feathers droop 
from it on each side. (Inside) ruche very 
full at the sides with bandeau of forget- 
me-nots; strings, white and plain pearl- 
edge ribbon. No. 22. 

7. Leghorn Bonnets are in more demand 
than ever before, trimmed in such ways as 
best becomes the wearer, they command 
from $20 to $150. 

The capes of all description of Bonnets 
are made narrower than at the commence- 
ment of the season, and plaited on in every 
instance. 

S^ind^IS $jecorb of Aontnt fifrtnts. 

The price of passage on the steamers of 
the 20th June was,~First Cabin, $125,- 
Second, $80 ; and Steerage, $40. 

The Overland Mall, via Los Angeles, has 
made its regular trips within schedule 
time during the month, and on its return 
has carried from 1,400 to 2,000 letters each 
time. 



There are over 3000 Chinese now on their 
way to this State from Hong Kong. 

Flour has been selling at fifteen cents per 
pound in the Walker's river mines. 

The heat during a portion of the. month 
was somewhat oppressive ; the thermome- 
ter standing at from 90° to 119 in the shade. 

The flume of the Butte County Canal 
Company, 180 feet high, 1,400 feet long, 
and built at a cost of $16,000, fell with a 
tremendous crash, on the 20th of June. 

The Hebrews of San Francisco have 
bought eleven acres of land near the Mis- 
sion Dolores for a cemetery, and steps are 
being taken to enclose it with a substantial 
wall. 

A vein of coal has been opened on the 
eastern border of Sacramento county, six- 
teen feet in thickness, and is said to be of 
excellent quality. 

On Saturday, June 25th, one hundred 
and sixty inmates of the State Prison at 
Point San Quentin attempted to escape ; of 
those forty-two succeeded, but the remain- 
ing one hundred and eighteen were fired 
upon and forced to return. Four were 
wounded and one killed. Subsequently 
twelve others were captured by main force, 
and several killed. 

A fire broke out in Tehama on the morn- 
ing of the 26th of June, and destroyed the 
whole town with the exception of three 
houses. Losses $10,000. On the 27th, 
Oroville was visited by the Fire-king, and 
who destroyed about $20,000 worth of 
property. On the 8th ult., Chipp's Flat 
was nearly consumed by the same destroy- 
ing angel. Losses from $16,100 to $18,000* 
At Rough and Ready, all the town north of 
Oilham's Store fell a prey to the devouring 
flame. Loss $75,000. 

The Mariposa Gazette^ edited and published 
by L. A. Holmes, entered upon the fifth year 
of its prosperous existence on the 8th alt. 

A fire destroyed one-third of the town 
of Weaverville, Trinity county, on the 5th 
ult. Losses $100,000. On the 9th, another 
at Crescent City destroyed $30,000 worth 
of property. 

The 4th of July was very generally cel- 
ebrated throughout the State. On the 
same day a slight shower of rain fell at 
several places. 

The Golden Gate, which sailed on the 
6th ult., took away $2,265,134. On the 
two eastern-bound steamers of that date, 
there were 1,229 passengers. 

The Republican candidates in Oregon 
polled a majority at the recent election. 



EDITOR'S TABLE. 



96 



The proprietors of the Allison Ranch 
qnutz lead, on the 13th nit., deposited 
$90,000 in the S. F. Branch Mint, making 
the whole amount of their deposit since 
Janaarj- 1st, $230,000. 

After a brief suspension of pablication, 
the Siakijon ChromeU re-appeared on the 
»th olL, with W. J. Mayfield as publisher. 

The California Ibrmer^ edited bj Col. 
Warren, entered apon its 12th volume on 
the Stod. 



The Oolden Age sailed for Panama and 
New York on the 20th ult. with $.1,889,- 
377, and 349 passengers. The number of 
passengers on the Uncle Sam, of the same 
date, was 360,— total 709. 

The first number of the Tulare County 
Record, published hj I. W. Carpenter, was 
issued at Yisalia, June 25th. 

On the 24th of July, ten jears ago, the 
first U. S. Mail was carried up the Sacra- 
mento riyer from San Francisco. 



m9m» 



(iBHtor's CaHe. 



THERE is sureljsnch a thing as 
Sorrow — some saj it is another 
Dame for existence; but this of 
eoerse no sound mind can receive, when he 
sees so much happiness in the world. There 
is a kind of sadness that we all feel at 
Unas ; and, without dwelling on its chasten- 
iaf iafinence, we all feel that it steals upon 
as when familiar objects or voices become 
changed — ^when friends, who have been 
aaar and dear, go from us ; or when, sad- 
der still, become cold or estranged — when 
ftatle voices and happj smiles that have 
cheered and gladdened our inmost souls 
ate heftffd and seen no more — when the 
aight shadows fall down and veil the 
bright scenes of the daj — ^when melan- 
eholj Autumn comes to banish the fair 
flowers and song-birds that pleased with 
their sprigfatlj presence the Spring-time 
and Summer — when — ^but why continue? 
—it comes often— ever. So we think, and 
M we thought the other day, as we looked 
ever a pile of dear old letters f^om our 
tarty eontribntors, and saw among them 
(be fiHBiliar autographs of Carrie D. ; J. B.; 
Dr, D. S, ; Monadnock ; Old Forty-Nine ; 
Atiee; Bessie; Doings; O. T. S. ; Jeems 
Pipes ; Chispa ; Anna M. Bates ; W. H. D.; 
C. J. W. Russel ; Joe ; C. B. Mc Donald ; 
Piooeer; W. B. S.; Old Block; Mary Mor- 
ris Kirke; Eugene; Harry Sinclair; H. P. 
r^ Cloe ; Luna ; Mrs. C. W. W.; Agricola ; 
HighUni ; Mrs. S. H. D.; Dr. Fe Nix ; C. C; 
Old Moontaineer ; Rochester; J. S. H.; 
Nolan ; Charley; and a host of other names 
that vsed to cheer us monthly. Some were 
with as in the very first number, and have 
kept with ns faithfully until now ; others 
ttdl visit as occasionally ; some can never 
greet as more ; and others are for the time- 
beiag lost in the doubtful uncertainty of 
lileace. All were once joined in close sister- 
hood and brotherhood on the list of Maga- 
stae eontribntors, and felt warm ties and 
•ympathica. Time may have changed some 



—circumstances may have estranged others 
for a time — but we still entertain our old 
faith in their goodness and fidelity. And 
is it to be wondered at that we felt a kind 
of sadness, as we perused the old letters, 
full as they were with cordial and friendly 
words? And then, thoughts of long 
silence maintained by many ensued. 
We have a proposition to make : — 
Most families united by ties of blood, 
who have become separated from each 
other in the course of life's changes, have 
times of re-union, when they again all as- 
semble under the old parental roof, and 
renew the ties of past years. Why should 
not our family of contributors do likewise ? 
Thanksgiving is the American day of fam- 
ily re-unions ; and that day is again ap- 
proaching. We cannot, probably, meet 
in person, but let all of you, who can or 
will, send in a short contribution for the 
Novemberjnumber of the California Maga- 
zine, andf we will publish them under the 
head of *' A Thanksgiving Re-union of Our 
Contributors." 

In order to keep up and perpetuate 
the improvements gradually being intro- 
duced in the California Magazine, since 
we last had the pleasure of gpreeting oar 
numerous readers we have visited the awe- 
inspiring scenes within and around the 
great Yo-Semite Valley, and the large 
groves of Mammoth trees situated In the 
counties of Mariposa and Frezno, and as 
these sights are the most imposing and 
wonderful of any and all yet known in any 
part of the world, our friends will be glad 
to learn that we are preparing a series of 
beautiful engravings with which to illus- 
trate several numbers of this Magazine, and 
in which a complete panorama will be pre- 
sented, and a full history, description and 
explanation given of all its remarkable 
scenes, Indian customs, language, and 
legends. 



96 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



Stati Industbt. — To thoge whose high- 
est terrestrial hopes and noblest aspirations 
centre in the prosperity and happiness of 
the home of their adoption, the State 
of California, we need only mention that 
on the 13th of September next, the State 
Agricnltural Society (we demnr, and al- 
ways did, to the name of the Society, as 
being by far too inexpressive for the objects 
embraced by it) will hold its Sixth Annual 
Fair at Sacramento City, for the exhibition 
of every kind of article produced by the 
skill, enterprise, and industry of Califor- 
nians. 

This exhibition will include all kinds oft 
Cattle, froD^ a short-horned bull to a Dur- 
ham cow; Horses of all work, to full- 
blooded Racers, — not even excluding Jacks 
and Mules ; Sheep, from a Saxon to a South- 
down ; Swine, from a juvenile '^ Rooter" 
to the fkttest kind of a Porker; Poultry, 
from a DuDg-bill Hen, to a Turkey (xobbler; 
Rabbits, from a lop-eared white to a long- 
eared Hare. Then again. Tools and Machin- 
ery of all kinds are not to be forgotten, 
from a Spade to a Threshing Machine, and 
even to a Quartz Mill, complete ; eyerj va- 
riety of product from the farm, orcaard, 
vineyard, nursery, (perhaps inclusive of 
boys and girls) and garden, from a pea-nut 
to a squa^, and from a monthly rose to a 
mammoth tree. The Dairy, even, is not to 
be overlooked in the important articles of 
" butter and cheese — and all." Then again, 
every kind of Manufacture will be wel- 
comed, from a bar of soap to a steam en- 
gine ; or from a b isket of wine to a church 
organ. The Pine Arts, moreover, are not 
to be slighted, for every possible concep- 
tion of the human brain, from wax fruit 
to an oil painting, may be entered for the 
prize : — and if there be anything new — en- 
tirely new — ^so as not to come within the 
range of the articles enumerated — even if 
it be for an expeditious mode of passenger 
transit to the moon ; or an invaluable me- 
thod of discovenng honesty in the soul of 
a politician — we think we know the Board 
of Managers sufficiently to say that an im- 
partial examination (and, if worthy, a price 
also,) will be secured it. Therefore, every- 
body may, and we trust will, produce some- 
thing that shall enhance the progress, show 
the skill, or develope the resources of the 
State, at the Annual Exhibition in Septem- 
ber next. 

We give pleasurable greeting this month 
to a new religions monthly magazine, en- 
titled *' Thk Paoipio Expositor," edited 
by Dr. W. A. Scott, D. D., and published 
by Geo. W. Stevens, of this eity. The 
praiseworthy object of its able editor is 



announced to be the exposition of God's 
Word, and the preaching of the Gospel, so 
that the lonely dwellers in the mountains 
and valleys of California may be favored 
with the blessings of religious instruction, 
of the same kind and quality as that given 
to the residents of a city on the Sabbath 
day. We have many times listened, with 
much gratification, to the sermons and 
lectures of Dr. Scott, and can assure our 
readers that the reverend gentleman has 
the faculty of making his discoures very 
interesting. This gift is either very rare, or 
is not sufficiently cultivated among Cali- 
fornia divines; and yet the requirements of 
a California audience are greater than those 
of other countries where social and reli- 
gious influences are generally higher and 
more numerous, as well at more varied. 
The discussion of dry theological subjects 
have little interest to those here whose 
business has kept the mind in a perpetaal 
fever of excitement, for six days out of 
seven; so that when they repair to the 
sanctuary on a Sabbath day, they not only 
need the Bread of Life well buttered with 
interesting facts and similes, to make it 
palatable, but require that no dry and un- 
worthy theological substitute of bone -dost 
flour should constitute the component parts 
of the staff of eternal life, be they never ao 
finely ground, or nicely bleached. We 
would commend these thoughts to those 
ministers who wish to be acceptable and 
useful to a California audience. We donbt 
not this work will be very acceptable, es- 
pecially for Sunday reading. 

So Contribxttors Hitb ftorresponbntts. 

EmUy T. — Nevada, — ^The first complete 
translation of the Bible into English 
was by Wycliffe^ about the year 1380. 

J, O. — ^Your suggestion of a Re-union of 
Contributors in the December number 
of this Magazine is happily conceived. 
Ton will find it further discussed in the 
Editors Table. 

5.~^We could not promise yon anything 
of the kind. Send, and you will learn 
of its disposition. 

R. B. — Coon HolUm. — ^Yonr style is alto- 
gether too diffuse. The secret of elegant 
composition lies in expressing a thought 
in as comprehensive and aa suitable lan- 
guage as may be possible. Then again 
we would reccommend you not to be 
chary of your trouble, for the simple 
reason that a good article is worth a dray 
load of bad ones. Relieve us. 
"Subsriber" — Can yon supply the ar- 
ticles mentioned in your note of the 4th ? 



HUTCHIN6S' 

CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 

Vol.. IV. OCTOBER. 1859. JiTo. 4. 

THE GREAT TO-SEMITE VALLEY. 
CHAPTER I. _.^-: ; :- 



i • 



146 



nUTOniNGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE^ 



chan-oie, Po-io-en-cie, Noot-cho, Po-ho- 
ne-ohee, Ho-iiarcb«e,Chow*ohilla and oth- 
er Indian tribes on the head waters of 
those streams. The frequent repetition 
of their predatory forays having been 
attended with complete success, without 
any attempted punishment on the part 
of the whites, the Indians began serious- 
ly to contemplate the practicability of 
driying out every white intruder upon 
their hunting and fishing grounds. 

At this time, James D. Savage had two 
stores, or trading posts, nearly in the 
centre of the affected tribes ; the one on 
Little Mariposa creek, about twenty miles 
south of the town of Mariposa, and near 
the old stone fbrt; and the other on Fres- 
no river, about two miles above where 
John Hunt's store now is. Around these 
stores those Indians who were the most 
friendly, used to congregate; and from 
whom, and his two Indian wives, Eekino 
and Homut, Savage ascertained the state 
of thought and of feeling among them. 

In order to avert such a calamity, and 
without even hinting at his motive, he 
invited an Indian chief, who possessed 
much influence with the Ghow-chillas 
anddhook-chances, named Jose Jeres, to 
acoompany him and his two squaws to 
San Francisco; hoping thereby to im- 
press him with the wonders, numbers, 
and power of the whites, and through 
him, the various tribes that were mal- 
oontented. To this Jeres gladly assented, 
and they arrived in San Francisco in 
time to witness the first celebration of 
the admission of California into the 
Union, on the 29th of October, 1850,* 
when they put up at the Revere House, 
then standing on Montgomery street 

During their stay in San Francisoo, 
and while Savage was purchasing goods 



* Th* n«wi of th« ftdnlHloD, to OongrtM , of Oali- 
forolA Into the Unioo, on the 9th of Bept ISSO, wai 
broashi by the baII ittUMr ** Orecon,'* which ar- 
rlTedla the B«y of San Vnoetooo on the iSlh of Get. 
ISOOi when preporotioiM were inmedtotel^ oom- 
ncneed fer « gtnerftl JoUIte throashoot theStsle «a 
Ike Stfth of Itet Booth. 



for his stores in the mountains, Jose Je- 
res, the Indian chief, became intoxicated, 
and returned to the hotel about the same 
time as Savage, in a state of boisterous 
and quarrelsome excitement. In order 
to prevent lus making a disturbance. 
Savage shut him up in his room, and 
there endeavored to soothe him, and re- 
strain his violence by kindly words ; but 
this he resented, and became not only 
troublesome, but very insulting; when, 
after patiently bearing it as long as he 
possibly could, at a time of great provo- 
cation, unhappily, was tempted to strike 
Jeres, and followed it up with a severe 
scolding. This very much exasperated 
the Indian, and he indulged in numerous 
muttered threats of what he would do 
when he went back among his own peo- 
ple. But, when sober, he concetded his 
angry resentpient, and, Indian-Uke, sul- 
lenly awaited his opportunity for re- 
venge. Simple, and apparently small, 
as was this circumstance, like many oth- 
ers equttlly insignificant, it led to very 
unfortunate results ; for, no sooner had 
he returned to his own people, than he 
suDunoned a council of the chief men of 
all the surrounding tribes; and, from 
his influence and representations mainly, 
steps were then and there agreed upon 
to drive out or kill all the whites, and 
appropriate all the horses, mules, oxen, 
and provisions they could find.t 

Accordingly, early one morning in the 
ensuing month of November, the Indians 
entered Savage's store on the Fresno, in 
their usual manner, as though on a trad- 
ing expedition, when an immediate and 
apparently preoonoerted plan of attack 
was made with hatchets, crow-bars, and 
arrows ; first upon Mr. Greeley, who had 
charge of the store, and then upon three 
other white men named Canada, Stiflner, 

t Theee Ihete were ooanniuitoHitcd to w bj Mr. J. 
M. Onnniagh«m,(now to the To*8emlto Tolley,) who 
WM then encttfftd m clerk for Saron* mkI woe pree- 
ont dnrlBg the altercaUon b o i wee u nla woA the In« 



THE ORBAT T0-SBH1TE VALLEY. 



n«n iMAnma raa vBimr— 



I ml BRAGSon 



ud bowB, wlw v«r« prweot. Thia 
««• Hada •□ meipMtadlj u to ezotude 
tiaa er aftfurlauity for defenoe, uid all 
■wa kallad axoept Brawn, whoaa life waa 
Mtad b; an Indiaa namad " Poliwia," 
'tkaa liiiialwail by tba wbitaa,) jiuaping 
bwwaaa hiaa and (faa attacking paiV> *' 
tW (Mk tt hia ovn panoaal ufi^, thna 
aMardamg Brawn a ehuiM of caci^pe, and 
■ fci>t ha Mada tba b«at of b; ruDDiDg all 
ito «»j lo ^Mrtabarg, at the bigbt of 

J with thia attack on the 
'a other itora asd nai- 
iMea aa the Maripoaa waa attaekad, 
daiRig hiaabaaaee, bjanotherband,aiid 
U( lafiaa wivaa eanied off. Similar on- 
daagbla hariag bean aada at diftrent 
penla as tba Henad, San Joaqnin, 
Tn^tn, a>d Chow-fihilla riTen, Savage 
■Melwdad that a ganand Indian war waa 



meoead raiaing a voJnntaar baMalion ; at 
the aane lime a raqniaitim for men, 
armt, ammanilion, aod general itorea, 
wai made apon the QoTemor of tba 
State (Omi. John HcDoogal,) wbieh waa 
promptlj raaponded to b; him, and 
boatilitiM ware at onoe begna. 

WitboDt farther antering into tha da-- 
taili, inoidenta, and niehapi of thia ean- 
paign — ai a full aeoonnt of tbia Indian 
war will aaka m jtrj intwaating and in- 
atmetiTa aatgaat of ilaalf, tot fntar«con> 
aldaration — we have thoogbl it naeeaaaij 
to relate theabova fiwia aa thaj oeoamd, 
inaanmeh aa out of tham originalad the 
Maripoaa Indian war, and tba diMotwr 
of tba icraat ¥»Saaite vall^. Tbeta- 
fcra, with tbeae intoodaetorr azplaa^ 
tioaa, and the readar'a eonaen^ wa will 
at onea piooaad apoa oar toor to that 
woadaiAil, ■waniai>-boand vallaj of 
watarfUU. 



jcV/ 



HUTCHING8' CAUfOBNIA MAGAZINE. 



CHAPTER IL 
#ff for % JPomitains. 

' Tli ft d«n thing to tnrtl like » mUl-honM. 

Qonoi 09 OOWITB. 

The reader knows as well m we do 
that, although it may be of but little 
coDBequence in point of fact, whether a 
apirit of romance ; the lore of the grand 
and beaatiful in aoenery; the sug^geet- 
iona or promptings of that moat loveable 
of all loTelj objects, a fascinating wo- 
man, be she friend, sweetheart, or wife ; 
the desire for change ; the want of reo- 
reation ; or the necessity of a restoration 
and recuperation of an oyer-tasked phys- 
ical or mental organization, or both ; — 
whatever may be the agent that first 
gives birth to the wish for, or the love 
of travel ; when the mind is thoroughly 
made up, and the committee of ways and 
means reports itself financially prepared 
to undertake the pleasurable task ; in 
order to enjoy it with luxurious zest, we 
must resolve upon four things— ;^r«<, to 
leave the "peck of troubles," and a few 
thrown in, entirely behind; Moofu2, to 
have none but good, suitable, and genial- 
hearted companions; tAtrd, a sufficient 
supply of personal patience, good humor, 
forbearance, and creature comforts for all 
emergencies ; and, Jburth, not to be in a 
hurry. To these, both one and all, who 
have ever visited the To-Semite valley, 
we know will say — ^Ahien. 

Now as we cannot in thb brief series 
of articles, describe all the various routes 
to this wonderful valley, from every Til- 
lage, town, and city in the State ; as they 
are almost as numerous and as diversified 
as the different roads that christians 
seem to take for their expected heaven, 
and the multltudinons creeds about the 
way and manner of getting there, we 
shall content ourselves by giving the 
principal ones ; and after we have recited 
the foUovring quaint and unanswerable 
argument of a oelebrated divine to the 
querulous and uncharitable members of 



his flock, in which we think the reader 
will discover a slight similarity between 
the position of Yo-Semite travelers, to 
that of the yarions denominations of 
christians ; we shall then proceed to ex- 
plain how and when we joumied there, 
and who were of the party. 

An aged and charitable christian min- 
ister had frequently experienced much 
painful annoyance from an unmistak- 
able bitterness of feeling that existed 
between the members of his church and 
those of a different sect; and as this -was 
contrary to the word and spirit of the 
Great Teacher, and a great stumbling 
block to the usefulness and happiness of 
the members of both denominations, he 
notified them that on a certain Sunday, 
he wished his brother minister to close 
his doors, as he wished to addrees the 
members of both churches at the same 
time, on a very important sulgect. This 
was accordingly granted him. When be 
ascended the pulpit, he looked affection- 
ately at his hearers, and thus began — 
" My christian friends, there was a 
christian brother— a Presbyterian — ^who 
walked thoughtfidly up to the gate of the 
New Jerusalem, and knocked for admit- 
tance, when an angel who was in charge, 
looked dovm fi?om above and enquired 
what he wanted. ' To come in,' was the 
answer. ' Who and what are you 7 ' 'A 
Presbyterian.' ' Sit on that seat there.' 
This was on the outside of the gate; and 
the good man feared that he had been 
refused admittance. Presently arrived 
an Episcopalian, then a Baptist, then a 
Methodist, and so on, until a representa- 
tive of every christian sect had made his 
appearance; and were alike ordered to 
take a seat outside. Before they had 
long been there, a loud anthem broke 
forth, rolling and swelling upon the air, 
from the choir within ; when those out- 
side immediately joined in the chorus. 
'OhI ' said the angel, as he opened vnde 
the gate, ' I did not know you by your 



THE GRIAT TO-SBUITB TALLET. 



1« 



UMM, bat jtn luTfl tU lMni«d on« Nng, 
«■• IB I «oiiw in 1 1 Tfa« nama joa b«u, 
» tb* w«j bj whiah j«a ouii«, ia of lit- 
it MOMVBt eonpkMd with 7<Kir bung 
•bla to n«d it ftt til, or tha wond«rt jOD 
vill MOW baliold, wd the grmtiAaatioB 



JOB will QzpanmM.' — As yum m; bntl^ 
ran," the good mui eonlinnad, " m jtn 
«zpeet to lire peaeaablj and loringly to- 
gether in he«Ten, yon had better b^;in 
to pFMtiae it on earth. I haTe done." 
Aa this aUegorioal adTioe needi no 



•wdt of appljeation either to the To- 
S^te tniTtder or the ehrietian, in 
kpithat the latter will take the admo- 
•iliaa of Captain Cattle, "and make a 
MU ca't," end with an apology to the 
mdtr for the digreMion, we will now 
proceed ca roHte. 

Tb« reaident of San Franoiieo ean 
We hie dbtice of two waja for reaching 
thddloa; one, for the moit part, over- 
W I7 etage, ai foUowe : — 

PaS.r.toOaUa^brfoiTT.whiehia S 
rBOaUMid,bjBtaga,loSanAaUnio, 2 

" 8an LMUidro 7 

" San Lorenao 11 

Bajwanl'e 13 

" Altaiado^ or Union Oitr,18 

Ceatnnlla. ^ 

" Hieeioa of San Joee ,27 

" Bart'a Station, ,30 

•• Lmnnore'i 84 

- Howlaia Howe 44 

*• Bariaad'e Feny. ,60 

** FrenehCamp..,,._ 6G 



eTAiT. 

Whole diatanoe from Saa Franeiaoo to 
Stockton, b; thia ronte, 79 milea. 

Or, making hie nj to Jackeon atreet 
wharf, a few momenta befora four o'clock, 
he can take one of the California Steam 
KaTigaiion Companj'a boato, and arrive 
in Stooklon, bj water, — diatanoe 124 
milee— in time for anj of the atagea that 
leave that ei^ for the monntuns. We 
ohoae the Utter ront«; and, on the ere- 
ning of the 14th of June of the preaent 
jear, found onnelvea on board the Helen 
Henaley, Captain Clark, (one of the od- 
deit looking, and at the aame time one 
of the moet intelligent apecimene of 
•teamboat oaptaina we ever met) 

Ai the f teamboat Antelope, boand for 
flaoramento, waa hearily freighted, we 
bad tbe advantage of taking and keeping 
the lead, and arrived at Benioia at twen- 
minntea to aeven o'clock — diatanoe 
Uiirtj milee, fnm San Frandaeo-Htt leait 
half an boor ahead of her ; a drantn- 



10 



HUTCHINGS' CAUFORNIA BfAGAZINI. 



-stsnee of rwj niiiMinl ooeamnoe, and 
whioh 8e«m«d to aibid oonBiderable sat- 
•tsfaotion to the more enthuuMlie of the 
paseengen ; for» whether a man maj be 
riding on any Ibnr legged animal, from 
a doakej to a raoe-horee, or in any kind 
of yehiole, from a dog-cart to a trun of 
oars ; or in any sailing craft that floats, 
from a flat-bottomed scow to a leviathan 
steamer, such is his perrerse desire to be 
able to orow oyer spmething or somebody, 
that if he breaks his neck in the attempt 
to pass a fellow trayeler; or runs the 
risk of losing a wheel, or his life, while 
driving furiously ; or takes an extra and 
speedy, though not always the most pop- 
ular, method of elevation, upon the bro- 
ken fragments of an exploded boiler, he 
is sure to wish fbr the success of that 
particular animal, vehicle, or craft, on 
which he may for the time be a passen- 
ger I We do not say that we, (that is, 
our boat), were "racing," for we were 
not; nor do we say that we were in any 
danger, for the officers of the boat — ^and 
of all, these boats — were too careful to 
run any risks, especially as all " racing" 
is strictly prohibited by the Company. 

The run across the straits of Garqni- 
nex, from Benicia to Martinet, three miles 
distant, took us just ton minutee. Then 
after a few moments delay, we again 
dashed onward; the moonlight gilding 
the troubled waters in the wake of our 
vessel, as she plowed her swift way 
through the bay of Snisun ; and to all 
appearance deepened the shadows on the 
darker sides of Monte Diablo, by defin- 
ing, with silvery clearness, the uneven 
ridges and summit of that solitary moun- 
tun mass. 

At twenty minutes past eight, P. M., 
we entered the most westerly of the three 
mouths of the San Joaquin river, fifty- 
one miles from San Franoisoo and twen- 
ty-one above Benicia— «fler passing the 
eity of New York on the Pacific, the in- 
tended '*]Bdon'' of speoulatonandoastle- 



baildera — ^without pe r form ing tibe laab- 
iooaUe courtesy of calling. 

The evening being calm and snltiy, it 
soon became evident that if it were not 
the hight of the mosqnito season, a rerj 
nvmerone band were out on a l^we-boot- 
ing excursion ; and although their har- 
vest-home song of blood was doubtlesa 
very musical, it may be matter of regret 
wiUi us to confess that, in our opinion, 
but few persons on board appeared to 
have any ear for it> in order, however, 
that their musical efibrta might not be 
entirely lost sight of, they took pleasnre 
in writing and impressing their low re- 
f run in red and embossed notes npon 
the foreheads of the passengers, so tliat 
he who looked might read — musqaitoes 1 
when, alas I such was the ingratitade felt 
for fkvors so voluntarily performed, that 
flat-handed blows were dealt out to them 
in Impetuous haste, and blood, blood, 
blood, and flattened musqitoes was writ- 
ten in red and dark brown spots upon 
the smiter, and behold I the notes of 
those singers were heard no more ** that 
we knows on." 

While the unequal warfare is going on, 
and one carcass of the slain induces at 
least a dosen of the living to come to his 
funeral and avenge his death, we are 
sailing on, up one of the most crooked 
and most m<Miotonous navigable rivers 
out of doors ; and, as we may as well do 
something more than fight the little bill- 
presenting and tax-collecting moequitoes, 
if oidy for variety, we will relate to the 
reader how, in the early spring of 1849, 
just before leaving onr southern home on 
the banks of * the mother of rivere,' ^e 
old Mississippi,' a gentleman arrived 
fh>m BoHhem Snrope and was at onoe 
introdneed a member of our little family 
circle. Now, however strange it may 
appear, our new friend had never in has 
ltf(i looked open a live moequito^ or a 
mce q ai to h er, and consequently knew 
nothing about tiie arrangemente of a good 



THE OBEAT TO-«£)UTI TALLET. 



LU 



jtaMM im eltmgt for puMBg « oomfoii- 
ftbla ni(bt, when Mieli isMoU w«r« o*eD 
aan ■m—tbm tiwn ontogM. la the 
Moniag ha tMUd hiiKMlf »t tL« braak- 
htHiblat kU bo* naulj ooiand with 
wottbda raMived from tba aoonij'a pro- 
bgacia, wbaM an anqiury waa made bj 
tba lad7 ef tbe booae, if ha had paaaed 
tba night pl«aaaiiUjr "Yea, — jes," he 



n-tMj plaaaant— although — a— mmU 



At 



, we eonld reatrain oni^ 
•alreaDo longer, bat broke oat iato a 
heartj laugh, lad by out good-natorad 
baataaa, who then ezelaimed : 
" If caqnitoea 1 why, I never 
diaaaad that the marka on 
yew bee wets moaqnitobitaa. , 
I ihiMght thayinight be from j 
a aah, te aomathing of that \ 
kiad. Vhj I didn't job low- | 
«4awajearmoaqiuto-bant'' \ 
Bat aa thia kttat appendage \ 
ioa bed, m the low, aUa*iaI 
laada ef a aoathem ri*er, 
waaagnalaratoangartobiiB i 
iba« any dead laagoaga 
kaowB, tba "■nail fly" Preb- 
le bad to ba aatb&ctorilj 



oane, CnlaTOnM,. Stautialaua, TuobiiBMk 
and Heroed riven. An apparantly in- 
tanninable wa of tulea extend* nearly 
one hondred aod fifty milea eonth, up the 
Talley of the San Joaqaiu; and whan 
thaaa are on fire, aa they not unfreqnent- 
ly are, during the fall aod early winter 
montha, the broad abeet of licking and 
leaping Samet and the vaat Tolumee of 
■moke that rise, and eddy, and aurga, 
hither aod thither, preaeot a aoane of 
fearful grandeur, at night, that ia ang- 
geetiTS of Bame earthly pande^ioninm. 

Tbe lumbering aoond of the boat's 
machinery haring inddeuly caaaed, and 



» » — y itwwild ba wdl hare to re- 
■Hk. (bat tba San Joaqnio ri*ar i« di- 
-'-Sd Metbiaa branehea, known iMpeot- 

■t only 
1 by 



.witb- 



■» ■■!■ Wfeaa Mt tba one nta 
«■ aMavbaMa Md aaiUng Teaaeb, b 
la and taaa StoektM— or at laast to 
■ aliaet tmt aailaa of that -=*- 



ity, turn 



Tba«aat,<r*aiB abaaari, ia naTigabia 
fcrMwll.*aww>beelati aM boat»,a*higb 
aa rvaaaa Qktj. Beaidaa the tbiae vmm 
aboMla af tba San Jewiain, bdlim HM. 
liaMd. tb«a are naaaamu taribatariaa, 
ifaapalMipalafwUdkan Iba Hoqaal- 



oar higb-praMHia uotiTe power baTing 
deeoauded fraa aregular toan oooaaional 
anorting, gare na a ramindar that we had 
reaobad Stooklon, Time, forty-lT* uin- 
utea paat two o'elook, on the aMming of 
tba 15th. At day-break wo were agua 
diatarbad in our fitful alniobera by tha 
nunbliag ofwagona and boitying bnatlo 
of laborer* diaeharging oarfco ; and b» 
fore wo bad aaHoaly tuned of w for an- 
other Biwortain nap, tbaatoalorian Inap 
of aoaao ampk^aa of tba atago aeaap*- 



ColvmlHa, Hnrphy'a, MokoloMO Hill. 
aae raai o n ta, Har^maa, and CealtorvilK 
w*i« joat abeot eUrtuf. Tba mow art 



152 



HUTCmNaS» CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



tint ** Oonltemlle" wm indaded in the 
Ktt it recalled ns to wide-awake conscioas- 
nees that as we had come on purpose to 
go hy that rente, we had hotter he mor- 
ing in the premises. Therefore, hurried- 
Ij making our toilet, and hastily going 
ashore, we each deposited seren dollars in 
the palm of the agent as our fare to the 
Crimea House, at which point another 
deposit of fiye dollars was to insure us 
safe and speedy transit in some other 
oonveyance from that place to Coulter- 
yille. 

A portion of our pleasant little party 
haring joined us in Stockton ; and, as we 
are now all snugly ensconced in the same 
stage, we will proceed to initiate thereader 
into the dramatis personsB of this (to us) 
deeply interesting performance. Rev. 
F. C. Ewer, and lady; (and when we 
mention " Rey." we hope that no one, at 
least in this instance, will associate it 
with anything prosy, or heavy, or dull, 
otherwise we wish at once to cot his or 
her acquaintance at the outset,) Miss 
Marianna Neill, Mr. L. 0. Weed, our 
excellent photographer, and your humble 
servant* J. M. H. <' All aboard! " cried 
the coachman ; " aU set,'^ shouted some- 
body, in answer. 

** CrMk went the whip, ud awftj went we.** 

There is a feeling of jovial, good-hum- 
ored pleasurableness that steals insensi- 
bly over the secluded residents of cities 
when all the cares of a duly routine of 
duty are left behind, and the novelty of 
fresh scenes opens up new sources of en- 
joyment Especially was it so with us, 
seated as we were, in that comfortable, 
old stage, with the prospect before us of 
witnessing one of the most vronderful 
sights that is to be found in any fkMtS 
eonntry either of the old or new world. 
Besides, in addition to our being in the 
reputed position of a Frenchman with 
his dinner, who is said to enjoy it in 
three diflferent ways; first, by anticipa- 
tien ; sezt, in aetion ; and third, on re* 



flection ; we had new views perpetually 
breaking upon our admiring eyes. 

As soon as we had passed over the 
best gravelled streets of any tovm or oily 
in the State, without exception, we thread- 
ed our way past the beautiful suburban 
residences of the city of Stockton, and 
emerged from the shadows of the giant 
oaks that stand on either side the road, 
the delioiously cool breath of early morn- 
ing, laden as it was with the fragrance 
of myriads of flowers and scented shrobs, 
was inhaled with an acme of enjoyment 
that contrasted inexpressibly with the 
stifling and unsavory warmth of a liUi- 
putian state room on board the steam- 
boat 

The bracing air had partially restored 
the loss of appetite resulting from, and 
almost consequent upon, the excitement 
created by the novel oircumstanoes and 
prospects attending us, so that when we 
arrived at the Twelve Mile House and 
breakfast was announced, it was not an 
unwelcome sound to any one of the party. 
This being satisfactorily discussed, in 
eighteen minutes, and a fresh relay of 
horses provided, we were soon upon our 
way. At the Twenty-five Mile House we 
again exchanged horses. By this time 
the day and our travelers had both vrarm* 
ed up together ; and before we reaohed 
Kaighfs Ferry, as the oooling braeie 
had died out, and the dust had began to 
pour in, at every chink and aperture, 
the luxurious enjoyments of the eariy 
morning were departing by de g rees i n 
the same way that lawyers are said to 
get to heavenl — and when a group of 
sturdy, athletie miners was seen eoiigre> 
grated in front of the hotel, and the beli 
and its ringer had announced that 
Knigfaf B Ferry and dinner were both al 
hand, it would have been the hei^ of 
pfoposterous presumption in us to at- 
tempt to pass ourselves oiF finr *'white 
folks" betoewehad made the aeqaaint- 
anoe of clsaii water and a dustpbrash. 



THI OUJlT TO-SBMITB VALLBT. 



its 



AAw Iddag NfrMbMiaati with ton id 
•v appatitM and forty-lv* minntM, m 
Bct oolj again "tAuajfai honM," but 
fc«Bd both oiumItm and oar baggaga 
efaanged to another atago — ai tht newut 
and b«st locAins one* Mftmad to b« ra- 
t»in«d Sat th* loral, and oitf end of the 
t a l e, while the daeteorarad and paint- 



worn an aaed fbr the moiuitaina. Aa 
we iball probablj hare lomething to Mj 
oonoernii^ theae towni on onr retani, we 
will respond to the ooaohman'a "all 
aboard," b; oalliug oat " all tet," and 
thna leave it for Uie preeent. 

At the Crimea Hoom, out bap and 
bagpga were again tet down, and after 



CAMnm AT MBE ruT — viobt kini. 



a my a gr iea bl i daU^ of one boar, dor- 
Mg wUflk liM« the etriigtDg Uadlord, 
Mr. BravB, iafonaad ■• that wrora of 
had bean aude by 
a not qdt* fauiHar 
with thm atttijeet* >^ >? wUdi thcaa 
pataoaa who travel ia priTata earriaga* 
WW* liable lo go by La Oiaaga, eoaie An 
■ilea ««t tt thait w^. 

Baca a saw line aa wall la aMvajaaoe 
«M tokaa, kaawn aa the " Sonora and 
CaahwilK" B^ aa that had MW arrir- 
ed. wa loat BO Una in obtainiag poaaaa- 
Nos c< as good aaato aa wa eoald iad, and 
reaebod Dea Padro'a Bar aboat its 
c'do^P.H. Bat for aanaMaal ana- 
bar af paaaangwa, wa iheald bava baaa 
b«» Hijaelid to BMthar ahaaga of itego; 
MW. tetaaatalT, Aa oM aad ragaUr oiM 
waald Mt aoBtoia MB all, ae that the only 
fhaagia aada waa in boraH, and after a 
ddqr at twtin wtam/tm, wa wan apin 



' the Tnolamne river, aeroai 
a good bridge. 

Now the gently rolling hilli began to 
give way to tall monntaine ; and the quiet 
and even tenor of the landtoape to obange 
to the wild and plotarewine. Dp, ap we 
toiled, aany of a* on foot, aa oar boraaa 
puffed and eoorted like miniatare elaam- 
boato, from hauling bnt Uttte mora thas 
the anpty eoaefa. The top gained, oar 
road waa throngh finaata of oaki and 
nnt pine*, aoroee lata, and down tha 
•idea of rarinia and gnlohaa, natU we 
raaebad Hanrdl't Ontk ; from whieh 
ptrfnt an asoaUant road la graded es tha 
aUa of a alaap nenntain, to OonharvUkt 
and all that tha trBvaler leama to hope 
(br, U that the itaga will keep npoa i^. 
and not tip down the at^r* that ia yawx 
lag below. Up lUa Booatoln wa again 



■athad ef foiM 'aftot'; ad wfclla m- 



154 



nOTCHINOS' OALIFOIINIA ICAGAZINS. 



oendingit, oar party was ilarUed by a 
mitliag Mond being heard among the 
bnahee below the road, where shadowy 
hnmaa forms ooold be seen moving slow- 
ly towards ns. Hearts beat qoicker, and 
images of Joaqnin and Tom Bell's gang 
rose to oar aotive fancies. ** They will 
rob and perhaps murder as,'' suggested 
one. " We cannot die but once," retort- 
ed another. "Oh, dear! what is going 
to be the matter," was sent in a loud, 
shrill whisper from the owner of a treble 
voice in the stage. '' Let us all keep 
close together," pantomimed a fourth, an 
outsider. " I $haU faint," (another sound 
from within.) "Please to postpone that 
exercise, ladies, until we reach plenty of 
water," respectfully and cheerfully re- 
sponded a fifth, and who evidently had 
some particular interest in the speaker. 

" That's a hard old mountain," ex- 
claimed the ringleader of the party that 
had caused all our alarm, as he and his 
companions quietly seated themselves by 
the side of the road. " Good evening, gen- 
tlemen." " Good evening." Why, bless 
my soul, these mep who have almost 
frightened us out of our seven senses, 
are nothing but fellow travelers ! " 
" Could'nt you see that ? " now valorous^ 
ly enquired one whose knees had knocked 
UBOontrollably together with fear only a 
few tt(Mnents before. At this we all had 
to laogh ; and the driver having stopped, 
said, "get in, gentlemen," we had enough 
to talk and joke about^ until we reached 
Coalterville, at a quarter to ten o'clook, 
P. M. Here, by the kindness of Mr. 
Coulter, (the founder of the town,) oar 
moeh needed oomforts were duly oared 
for; an^ afUr making aRaBgemeats for 
an early atari on the morrow, we letirad 
for the night, weU fatigaed with the 
jeomey; having beM upon the road fif- 
teen and on#>half hows. 

Am we wish to make these sketohes of 
nse to fvtare travelers, we have been par- 
tieolar in noting time, oost,4istanee,aiid 



numeroos ether paiiioalat% and as we 
have reached the end of oar joamej by 
stage, we append the following : 

nXI AND DISTAMCB TABLX VEOM PTOCKTON 
TO OOULTXBVXLLI. 



Left Stockton ftt 1-4 pMt C» A. K. rnadt. MOm. 

From Stockton to 19 If lie Boom IJB It 

Wnm ** lol51illoIlo«M 4J5 SS 

From «« toIootHtUi 4JU 30 

Fron ** . to Knight*! Verry O-^O 87 

from •* to Bock Biror Hoota, (In- 

dndlngdctcnUonfordlanor) 7.40 44 

From Stockton to Crime* HovM 9.40 48 

Here we ezchnnged itafee, and deUjed one boor. 
From Stockton to ])<« Pedro'f B«r, (In- 

cladlnffdelajntOrlme«Hoaie) — 11.30 60 
From Stockton to Ooatterrllle, (ezehnn- 

gedhorMiMidirMdeUijM19min019J0 71 

Our first considerations the following 
morning were for good animals, provis- 
ions, cooking utensils, and a guide, — ^the 
former (all but the ffood) were supplied 
by a gentleman who r^oiced in the un- 
common and somewhat ancient patro- 
nymic of Smith, at twenty-five dollars 
per head for the trip of eight days, al- 
most the original cost of each animal, 
judging irom their build and speed, so 
that the bill ran as follows :«— 
5 saddle horses, one for each penon, |125 

1 paek mule... 25 

Qaide 25 

We hope before the nest travrting se»> 
son oommences that reasonable arranga- 
ments will be made for a duly line of 
good saddle animals, both here and at 
Mariposa, (a most ezodlent starting 
point,) for it is moeh to be regretted that 
soeh exorbitant ohaiges should preolade 
persons of liauted means from visiting 
this magnifioeni valley. For the supply 
of provisions and cooking ateniipls, Mr. 
Ooalter and the guide relieved us of all 
anxietyf and* at a quarter to nine the 
next morning, wa ware in oar saddles, 
ready to the start. How we were attired 
or armed ; what was the impression pro- 
duoed upon the tyetanders; or, even 
what waa oar own opinioa of appeaian- 
oea, " d ap ftB t nl saith not" 



TBB OKEAT TO-SEMITE TALLET. 1A5 

CHAPTER lU. 
C^ Sott Is % VbU^. 



la M* ktW dkj, IhW) hu ■ aweplai 

BlILR' 

For tbo ftnt Uitm or four 
toad htj np a nmgb, monntuj 
tbio* doiM obftiMrftl boahei 
tkftt won growing <»k both 
■dM ti MM,to^ lugh, bold 
tUgt; aadfroBwhflnoawt 
i4t*«inoil K ■plandid and 
aoMprabaaai** tmw of the 
ftol-hHb aod bK«d nllej 
«r tba Sm Jowiuin. Al 
Ikoa poiat we entered « Tmit 
fbnat of pJBM, eed«rs, fin. 
Hid o«ka, kud rode leiaure- 
I7 among thdr deep end re- 
freeluBg thadowe, ocoaaion- 
aDj pawng law-milU, or 
ox-taaau that were hauling 
lop or Innber, until we 
reach ei " Bower CaTe," at 
a^l half peat one, P. H., 
twelTO milaa diatant from 
Coalterrille. 

TUa ia a angnUr grotto- 
Kke tewatioB, abont one 
hmdrad feet in depth, and 
length, and aina^ feet in 
width, aad whieh ie eat«^ 
adbj • paaMge not more 
Hvtkna bet dx inebea 
vUa.at the Mrtbera end 
ef M opaniagaone eerenlj 
fcet iMg b; thirteea feet 
wMa, nearijr eorared with 



flight of fif^two stepi, to a newlj oon- 
•tmoted wooden platform, and fWun 
wbenoe jou eao either pick your war ^ 
the water below, or aacend another flight 
(^ atepa to a emaDer cave abore. But 



treea, that grow oat from 

wttlun the eave ; and when 

tbeee are drawn aaide, yott look into a 

deep atTat, at the bottom rf which b a 

■bmD AMi of water, made ^iadow7 and 

■Jitaiioaa bj orarbaDging roeka and 

toeaa. On anlMisft 70a walk down a 



nactvnn imi motmuM id tu r»«MiTB ruur. 

although there ii a alngnlar charm about 
thia apot that amply repaje a nat^ we 
moat not linger too long, bnt pay ooi 
dollar, (flf^ oanti loo Buoh}, aad ituw 
oujouney. 



156 



HUTCHIN6S' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



Ab the day was hot, and the ride a 
novelty to most of us, we took a long 
•iesta here, not fairly starting before a 
quarter to fiye o'clock, P. M. From 
this point to " Black's Ranch,'' our five 
miles' ride was delightfully cool and 
pleasant, and for the most part, by grad- 
ual ascent up a long gulch, shaded in 
places with a dense growth of timber, and 
oocasionally across a rocky point to avoid a 
long detour or difficult passage. This 
part of our journey occupied us two 
hours. After a short delay, the ladies 
and a portion of our party started on, 
while Mr. Ewer and the writer having 
found one of the discoverers of the mam- 
moth trees of Mariposa eounty, remained 
behind to glean some interesting facts 
concerning them, which will appear in 
due season before this series of articles 
is finished. While thus engaged, we had 
not noticed the fast gathering night 
shadows; and, when we made the dis- 
covery, we gave the spurs to our horses 
and hurried off. 

On aooount of the steep hill-side upon 
which our trail now lay, and the pious 
habits of one of our horses, as the night 
had beoome so dark thatweoould scarce- 
ly see our hands before us, this ride was 
attended with some danger, and required 
that in consideration of the value, on such 
a trip, of a sound neck, if only for the 
convenience of the thing, we remembered 
and practiced too, the Falstaffian motto 
eonceming discretion, and took it leis- 
urely; arriving at Deer Flat, six miles 
above Black's, at a quarter past nine 
o'clock, P. M. 

As our absence had created no little 
anxiety to at least one of the ladies of 
<mr party, on aooount of a husband being 
among the missing, our safe arrival in 
camp was welcomed with rejoicing ac- 
clamations. Agoodheartymeal was then 
^cussed, and preparations made for pass- 
ing the night, as comfortably as possible, 
in our star-roofed chamber, but on ac- 



count of the novelty of our sitnattont 
to several, in camping out for the first 
time, it was long past midnight 

••Ire ilombcr*! ipdl had bond w.** 

Deer Flat is a beauUfnl green valley 
of about fifteen or twenty acres, sar- 
rounded by an amphitheatre of pines and 
oaks, and being well watered, makes a 
very excellent camping-ground. By the 
name given to this place, we thought 
that some game might probably reward 
an early morning's hunt, and aocord- 
ingly, about day-break, we sallied out, 
prepared for dropping a good iat buck, 
but as no living thing larger than a dove 
oould be started up the amount of fresh 
meat thus obtained was not very trouble- 
some to carry. 

A few minutes after seven o'clock on 
the morning of the 17 th, we again started, 
and although not in the possession of the 
brightest of feelings, either mental or 
physical, we had no sooner become fairly 
upon our way than the wild and beauti- 
ful scenes on every hand made us forget 
the broken slumber of the night, and the 
unsatisfactory breakfast of the morning, 
as we journeyed on towards Hazel Qreen, 
which point we reached in two hours, — 
six miles distant from Deer Flat. 

From this point the distant landscapes 
began to gather in interest and beauty, 
as we threaded our way through the mag- 
nificent forest of pine on the top of the 
ridge. Here, the green valley deep down 
on the Merced; there, the snow-clothed 
Sierra Nevadas, with their nigged peaks 
towering up; and in the shdtered hol- 
lows of the base, Nature's snow-built res- 
ervoirs, were glittering in the sun. 
These were glorious sights, amply snl&- 
cient in themselves to repay the &tigae 
and trouble of the journey without the 
remaining climax, to be reached iriioo 
we entered the wondrous valley. 

At ten minutes to eleven o'clock, A.M. 
we reached Crane Flat, six miles from 
Hasel Qreen; where^ as there was plenty of 



THI GKIAT TO-SKHITB TALLST. 



pMB kad witor, wa took lonolt *Dd ft 
tmt ttmboai two honn. 

tnm tltia poftit pMtiM riait tfa« imall 
p*T« of Dunnoth tre««, to be Mm od 
tU> not*, bttt M oar pwtj «h too ftax- 
iMM lo look.npoa tho grokt nUa; of w»> 
imMK wo did Dot go down to m« tb«m ; 
■t amr NqaMt, bowanr, Rot. J. C. Hol- 
te«l( hM Uadlj hrand w with tba fU- 
lawMg axtraet fnnn hia nota-book, whiob 
mm,y li^ipilj anppi j tho oniaaion : — 

** Ftaa Cimno Flat we uado a little 
U te n t» the right of abont a milo and 
abalC lo aao aoma "Big Tnaa." We 
faaad IhaH to oouiat of a little dnatar 
am tba nda of a deep eaAon, of the aame 
ipaeiM of eedar aa tlMae whloh fbtm tho 
•elabeBtad grora in CalaTana eoontj. 
Thaj are Monatota, andof aloMat inored- 
EUa rfM. Two of than (raw ftMB tho 



aame root, and aro nnitod near the baaa, 
and hanoe wa eall them the "Siamaaa 
Twine." Thoj aro nrttudlj one tree, be- 
ing nonriahed bj the lamo loota. Wo 
paced the diatanee anmud them at tho 
bottom, oloae to tho bark, and found It to 
be thirtj-eight paeea, or one hundred and 
foartooB feet, whioh would giie aa tho 
diamdtr of both, thirty-eight feet I 

Tbe b*rk on one aide hat boao oat into, 
and it meaanroa twentj inohea in thick- 
neea. At a few lodi diatanoe, interepera- 
•d among other treaa, are four or Bto 
othera of theee monarolia of the foree^ of 
whioh two or three are twootj-eii paoea 
each in airetunfeieaoe, or (OTeoty-eight 
feet, with a diameter of tweo^-ws foat. 
Thaj are paifaotly atnti^t, and tower 
op hearanward ftnm 150 to 200 feet. 

Tbaae troao aro wall worth Tliiting bj 



158 



HUTCHINdS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINI. 



•07 ono who has not seen the grores in 
Calaveras and Mariposa oonnties. Such 
dimensions seem ^moet too marvelous 
for belief to persons at a distance. I 
sent the above statement to a daily paper 
in a western city, and in publishing it, 
the editor said: "We call particular at- 
tention to the statement relative to Cali- 
fornia forest trees. It would be accounted 
apocryphal had it a less reUahU source" 
The trail is very plun from Crane Flat to 
these trees, although the descent and ac- 
cent to and from them is rather laborious, 
especially on a day as intensely hot as 
was that on which I visited them." 

It is difficult to say whether the excit- 
ing pleasures of anticipation had quick- 
ened our pulses to the more vigorous use 
of our spurs, or that the hones had al- 
ready smelled, in imagination at least, 
the luxuriant patches of grass in the 
great valley, or that the road was better 
than it had been before, certun it is, 
from whatever cause, we traveled faster 
and easier than at any previous time, and 
came in sight of the haxe-draped sum- 
mits of the mountain-walls that girdle 
the Yo-Semite Valley, in a couple of 
hours after leaving Crane Flat— distance 
nine miles. 

Now, it may so happen that the reader 
entertains the idea that if he could just 
look upon a wonderful or an impressive 
scene, he could fully and accurately de- 
scribe it If so, we gratefully tender to 
him the use of our chair; for, we candid- 
ly confess, that we can not. The truth 
is, the first view of this oonvulsion-rent 
valley, with its perpendicular mountain 
cliffs, deep gorges, and awful chasms, 
spread out befbre us like a mysterious 
scroll, took away the power of thinking, 
much less of clothing thoaghts with soit- 
able language. 

And I beheld when he had opened the 
sixth seal, and, lo, there was a gnat earth* 
quake; and the sun became black as sack- 
cloth of hair, and the moon became as blood, 



aod the Stan of heaven fell unto the earth, 
even as a fig tree casteth her untimely figs; 
when she is shaken of a mighty wind. 

And thp he&ven departed as a scroll 
when it is rolled together; and eveiy moun- 
tain and island were moved out of their 
places. 

And the kiugs of the earth, and the great 
men, and the rich men, and the chief cap- 
tains, and mighty men, and every bondman, 
and every freeman, hid themselves in the 
dens and in the rocks of the mountains; and 
said to the mountains and rocks, Fall on 
ns, and hide ns from the face of him that 
sitteth on the throne, and from the wrath 
of the Lamb: for the great day of his wrath 
is come; and who shall be able to stand? 

These words from Holy Writ will the 
better convey the impression, not of the 
thought, so much, but of the profound 
feeling inspired by that scene. 

*' This verily is the stand-point of si- 
lence," at length escaped in whispering 
huskiness from the lips of one of our 
number, Mr. Ewer. Let us name this 
spot '' The Stand-point of Silenoe.'' And 
so let it be written in the note-book of 
every tourist, as it will be in his inmost 
soul when he looks at the appalling gran- 
deur of the Yo-Semite valley from this 
spot. 

We would here suggest, that if any 
visitor wishes to see this valley in all its 
awe-inspiring glory, let him go down the 
outside of the ridge for a quarter of a 
mile and then descend the eastern side 
of it for three or four hundred feet, as 
from tlus point a high wall of rock, at 
your right hand, stands on the opposite 
side of the river, that ^ds much to the 
depth, and consequently to the hight of 
the mountains. 

When the inexpressible "first impress^ 
ion'' had been overcome and humiA 
tongues had regained the power of speech, 
such exclamations as the following were 
uttered — " Oh I now let me die, for I am 
happy." " Did mortal eyes ever behold 
such a scene in any other land T " " The 
half had not been told ns." " My heart 
is full to overfiowing with emotion at the 
sight of BO much apppilUng grandeur in 



THE GBIAT TO-SUQTS TALUBT. 



RinK tarn n m t»«bviti talut, niak tqi i 



[A 

Ik tfaiioat «ot]u of Ood I" "I am 
mtkttd." "Thiauglitw worth tea jMn 
</ bbor," fto., Ae. 

A Toong nwn, nuned WadiloTS, who 
had Ulen *i<:k with few at CoaltarnUa, 
udwbo, eoBMqnamlj, had to mnun 
bchmd Ui pvtj, beeune m meniber of 
Mt«; sad on tba momiDg of tha Moond 
'ajont, tiperimciiig » rcUpM, h« t«- 
^•Mad w to Imto hin behind : bat, m 
*( igpT^td oar dotal uiDftlkn to do 
■(Mhing of iha kind, at great iomnTon- 
■MM (D bimMlT, bo eontinaod to rid« 
•bwlj alo^. Wbw at Haaal Oraon, he 
1«iallj — i m iad, "I woaM not hara 
Ntftad flB thia brip, and aaffar m Mneb 
M I ban* dsM thia da;, for taa tboaaand 
Wkra." Bat wkw ha arrivad at tbia 
roiat, aal loafced apea 
<«B ftiiaalid ta Ua naw, ba 
'I aa a haadrad tiaiaa repaid naw for 



•11 1 bare thia daj ntffered, md I wonid 
gladljondergo a tfaonsaod ttmei aa mooh, 
eoald I endure it, and be able to look up- 
on uolliar aoch a aoene." 

AdmoniBbad bj onr ezeellent guide, 
(whom eT«rybody called "Sam,") we 
were aoon in oar laddles, and again on 
onr waj, never dreaming that wa had 
■pent more than a few brief minntea here, 
althongh onr time-piecea told oa that we 
had delajed fottj-fire, bat whioh ongbt 
to hare been prolonged to at laaat one 
day. 

Abont a mile farther on, we reached 
that p«unt where the dewtent of the ntonn- 
tain ooatDMBoai; and where onr ipiide 
raqnired na to dinaonnt, while he ar- 
ranged the aaddle blanketa aademppera, 
and atrughtaoed tba aaddle girtha. 
Sana fm« for walking down thia praeip- 
itoaa tnU to the nUay, hat an the gnida 



160 



HUTCHINQS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZIKB. 



infonnod saoh that it wm nearly seyen 
miles to the foot of the mountain, the de- 
sire, for the time being, was overoome ; 
yet, in some of the steepest portions of 
the trail one or two of the party dis- 
mounted, neither of whom, we are proud 
to say, was a lady. 

About two miles from the "Stand- 
Point of Silence," while descending the 
mountain, we arriTod at a rapid and 
beautiful cascade, across which was a 
bridge, and here we quenched our thirst 
with its delicious water. Here we will 
mention that there is an ample supply of 
excellent cool water, at conyenient dis- 
tances, the entire length of the route, 
whether by Coulterrille or Mariposa. 

Soon, another cascade was reached and 
crossed, and its rushing heedlessness of 
course among rocks, now leaping over 
this, and past that ; here giying a seeth- 
ing, there a roaring sound; now bub- 
bling, and gurgling here; and smoking 
and frothing there, kept some of us look- 
ing and lingering until another admoni- 
tion of our guide broke the charm and 
hurried us away. 

The picturesque wildness of the scene 
on every hand ; the exciting wonders of 
so romantic a journey; the difficulties 
surmounted; the dangers brayed, and 
oyeroome; put us in posession of one unan- 
imous feeling of unalloyed delight; so that 
when we reached the foot of the moun- 
tain, and rode side by side among the 
shadows of the spreading oaks and lofty 
pines in the smooth yalley, we congratu- 
lated eaoh other upon looking the yery 
picture of happiness personified. 

But as the sun had set, and a ride of 
six miles was yet before us ere we reach- 
ed the upper hotel (Hite's) to which we 
were going, we quickened oar speed, and 
reaehed the ferry. Here a new difficulty 
presented itself, inasmuch as the ferry- 
man had left it for the night, and liyed 
nearly half a mile aboye. This boweyer, 
WM oyeroonw^ by bringing a fowling- 



piece into excellent play, (nearly the onlj 
one oalled for on the entire route,) on no- 
count of the scarcity of game, and after 
a delay of nearly one hour we were fer- 
ried across, at the rate of thirty-eeyen 
and a half cents per head, for men as well 
as animals, and at half-past nine o'clock, 
P. M., we arriyed at the end of our day's 
journey. We feel confident that we ex- 
press the sentiment of each when we say 
that this day will be remembered among 
the most delightful of our liyes. 

TABLX OV niSTANCXS, AND TIMB OOCVPIBD 

BY OUR PAKTT IN GOIKQ TO TBI yAX^- 

LIT. 

TkMof RMt'r A 
tnrti. Map*f . Diai. 
k. a. k. B. afl««. 

From Oooltarrflle to Bower OaTe,.4 85 12 

Rested at the Care, S 40 

Vrom the Oare to BIack*s Inn, . . .8 00 5 

ReitedatBUek'i 80 

From BIaek*s to Beer flat, 1 45 6 

Camped for the night at Deer 

nat, from 9 p. m. tlll5 mln. 

of 7 a. m*, 955 

From Deer Flat to Haiel Ckeen,. J 00 6 

Rested at Haiel Chreen, 10 

nrom Haael Green to Orane Flat, 1 SO • 

Rested and taaehed at G. Flat,. 8 15 

From Orane Flat to **Stand-polnt 

ofSilenoe,'* 8 10 t 

Stopped at ** BCaDd-PeInt of 01- 

lenee,*' 45 

From Stand-Point of Silence to 8d 

Cascade Bridge,. f 

From 8d Cascade to foot of Trail, 

Into yalley., a 

From foot of Trail to upper Hotel, § 

From Stand-Point of Silence to 

Upper Hotel 5 15 

Total time of Trarel, TTi 175 

Total time of resting and oatoping, IT 5 
Total tiBMfrom OooHenrllU W 

Hotel In YallerH >« 10 

Total distance,. 57 

In our next number we shall eontinne 
this series of articles on the Yo-8emite 
Yalley, and present some of the moet 
skilfully drawn and finely executed en* 
grayings of all its most remarkable soeaes 
that haye eyer appeared in this work, 
from photographs and akelohes taken 
from nature. 



MEMORIALS OF JUAN DE FUCA. 



161 



MEMORIALS OF JUAN DE FUCA; 
Discoverer of Oregon* 

BT ALIX. 8. TAYLOR. 

[Continued from page 122.] 

Origimal aeoomni of (he Voyage of the 
Greek PUoi^ Juan de Fuea^ alona the 
mortkweai eoaet of America, in 1592. 
Eiiraeied from ine Pilgrims of Samud 
Purduu, page 849, Vol. third, London, 
1625. Vule Oreenhtne^e California and 
Oregon^ 4ih edition, on page 408. 

*" A note made by me, Michael Lock the 
Metf toQohing the strait of sea called 
Fretuna Anian in the Soath Sea, 
throazh the North West passage of 
Metal ooognifca. 

" When I was at Yenioe in April 1596, 
haply arriTed there an old man, about 
iixrr years of age, called oommcmly Jaan 
de Fuca, bat named properly Aposiolos 
Talerianns, of nation a Greek, bom in 
Cephakmia, of profession a mariner and 
sa ancient pilot of ships. This man be> 
iag eooie lately out of Spain, Brrived first 
at Lagbom, and went thence to Florence, 
where he found one John Douglas, an 
Engitehwan, a famous mariner, ready 
CQouiif for Venice, to be pilot for a Yen- 
sitaa Hup for England, in whoee compa- 
ny they came b<Hh together to Venice. 
And John Douglas being acquainted with 
me before, he gave me knowledge of this 
pilot, and brought him to my 
and in long talks and conference 
us, in presence of John Douglas, 
this Greek pilot declared in the Italian 
and Spanish langui^es, thus much in 
e/§eei as foUoweth: — ^First ho said that he 
had been in the West Indies of Spain 
forty years, and had sailed to and mm 
many places thereof, in the service of 
the Spaniards. Also he said that he was 
in the Spanish ship which. In returning 
from the Islands Phillipinas, towuds 
N >Ta Spania, was robbea and taken at 
the Cape California by Captain Candish 
rCavendiab], Englishman, whereby he 
lofll alsty thousMid ducats of his own 
gwdsL Also he said that he was pilot of 
three email ships which the Viceroy of 
Mczieo sent from Mexico, armed with 
Qoe baadred men, under a captain, S^an- 
iatda» to disoorer the Struts of Anian, 
aloog the coast of the South Sea, and to 
lurt^ in that strait, to resist the passage 
and pgQoeedings of the English nation 



which were feared to pass through those 
straits into the South Sea ; and by reason 
of a mutiny which happened among the 
soldiers for the misconauet of their cap- 
tain, that voyage was overthrown, and 
the ship returned from California to Nova 
Spania, without anvthing done in that 
voyage ; and that after their return, the 
captain was at Mexico punished by Jus- 
tice. 

"Also he said that shortly after the 
said voyage was so ill ended, the said 
Viceroy of Mexico sent him out a^in in 
1592, with A small caraval and a pmnace, 
armed with mariners only, to follow the 
said Vovaee for the discovery of the 
straits of Annian, and the passage there- 
of into the Sea, which they call the North 
Sea, all alonj; the coast of Nova Spania 
and California, and the Indies, now called 
North America, (all which voyage he 
signified to me in a great map, and a sea 
card of mine own, which I laid before 
him) until he came to the latitude of 47 
degrees ; and that there finding that the 
land tended north and northeast, with a 
broad inlet of sea, between forty-seven 
and forty-eight degrees of latitude, he 
entered thereinto, sailing therein more 
than twenty days, and finding that land 
trending still sometime nortnwest, and 
northeast, and north and also east and 
south eastward, and verv much broader 
sea than was at the said entrance, and 
that he passed by divers islands in that 
sailing ; and that at the entrance of this 
said strait, there is on the northwest coast 
thereof, a ^eat headland or island, wiUi 
an exceedmg^ high pinnacle, or spired 
rock, like a pillar thereupon. 

" Also, he said that he went on land in 
divers places, and that he saw some peo- 
ple on land clad in beasts' skins ; and 
that the land is very fruitful, and rich of 
gold, silver, pearls, and other things, like 
Mova Spania. And also he said uat he 
being entered thus far into the said strait 
and Being come into the North Sea al* 
ready, and finding the sea wide enough 
everywhere, and to be about thirtr or 
fortjT leagues wide in the mouth of the 
straits where he entered, he thought he 
had now well discharged his oflice ; and 
that not being armed to resist the force 
of the savage people that might happen, 
he therefore set sail, and returned home- 
wards again towards Nova Spania, where 
he arrived at Acapuloo anno 1592, hop- 
ing to be rewaraed by the Viceroy for 



162 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



this service done in the said voyage. 
Also he said that, after coming to Mexi- 
co, he was greatly vrelcomed by the Vice- 
roy, and had promises of great reward ; 
but that, haying sued there two years, 
and obtained nothing to his content, the 
Viceroy told him that he should be re- 
warded in Spain, of the King himself, 
very greatly, and willed him therefore to 
go to Spain which voyage he did perform. 
Also he said that when he was come in- 
to Spain, he was welcomed there at the 
King's Court; but, after a long suit 
there, also, he could, not get any reward 
there to his content; and therefore, at 
length he stole away out of Spain, and 
came into Italy, to go home again and 
live among his own kindred and country- 
men, he being very old. Also, he said 
that he thought the cause of his ill re- 
ward had of the Spaniards, to be for that 
they did understand very well that the 
English nation had now given over all 
their voyages for discovery of the north- 
west passage ; wherefore they need not 
fear them any more to come that way in- 
to the South Sea, and therefore they 
needed not his service therein any more. 
Also he said that, understandmg the 
noble mind of the Queen of England 
[Queen Elizabeth] and of her wars 
as:ain8t the Spaniards, and hoping that 
her Majesty would do him justice n)r his 
goods lost by Captain Candish, he would 
be content to go into England, and serve 
her majesty in that voyage for the dis- 
covery perfectly of the northwest pas- 
sage into the South Sea, if she would 
furnish him with only one ship of forty 
tons burden, and a pinnace, and that he 
would perform it in thirty days' time 
from one end to the other of the strait, 
and he willed me so to write to England. 
And, upon conference had twice with the 
said Greek pilot, 1 did write thereof, ac- 
cordingly to England unto the Right 
honorable the old Lord treasurer Cecil, 
and to Sir Walter Raleigh, and to Master 
Richard Hakluyt, that famous cosmo- 
grapher, certifying them hereof. And I 
prayed them to disburse one hundred 
pounds, to bring the said Greek pilot in- 
co England with myself, for that my 
own purse would not stretch so wide at 
that time. And I had answer that this 
action was well liked and greatly de- 
sired in England ; bat the money was 
not ready, and therefore this action died 
at that time, though the said Greek pilot 
perchance liveth still in his own country, 



in Cephalonia, towards which place he 
went within a fortnight after this con- 
ference had at Venice. 

" And in the meantime, while I follow- 
ed my own business in Venice, being in 
a lawsuit against the company of mer- 
chants of Turkey, to recover my pension 
due for beine their consul at Aleppo, 
which they neld from me wrongfully, 
and when I was in readiness to return to 
England, I thought I should be able of 
my own purse to take with me the said 
Greek pilot ; and therefore I wrote unto 
him from Venice a letter, dated July, 
1596, which is copied here under : 

"*To the magnificent Captain Juan 
de Fuca, pilot of the Indies, my most 
dear friend in Cephalonia. Most honor- 
ed Sir, being about to return to England 
in a few months, and recollecting what 
passed between you and myself at Ven- 
ice, respecting the Voyage to the Indie?, 
I have thought proper to write you this 
letter, so that, if you have a mind to go 
with me, you can write me word directly 
how you wish to arrange. You may- 
send me your letter by this English yes- 
sel, which is at Zante, (if you should find 
no better opportunity) directed to the 
care of Mr. Elezar Hyckman, an English 
merchant, St. Thomas street, Venice. 
God preserve you, sir. 

'Your friend, 
MicHAXL Lock, of England. 

Venice, July Ist, 1696.' 

"And I sent the said letter from Ven- 
ice to Zante in the ship Cherubim ; and 
shortly after, I sent a copy thereof m the 
ship Minion, and also a third copy there- 
of by Manea Orlando, patron de Nave 
Venetian. And unto my said letters he 
wrote me answer to Venice by one letter, 
which came not to my hands, and also 
by another letter, wnich came to my 
hands, which is copied here under : 

"*To the illustrious Michael Lock, 
Englishman at the house of Mr. Lazaro, 
English merchant, in St. Thomas street, 
Venice. 

'Most illustrious Sir, Your letter was 
received by me on the 20th September, 
by which I am informed of what you 
communicate. I have a mind to comply 
with my promise to you, and have not 
only myself, but twenty men, brave men, 
too, whom I can carry with me ; so I am 
waiting for an answer to another letter 
which I wrote you, about the money 



MEMORIALS OF JUAN DE FUCA. 



163 



vtiich I asked yoa to send me. For you 
know well, sir, how I became poor in 
cooseouence of Captain Gandish's hav- 
ing taken from me more than sixty thou- 
vand ducats, as you well know. If you 
will send me what I asked, I will go with 
yoa, as well as all my companions. I 
ask no more from your kindness, as shown 
by yoor letter. Uod preserve you, most 
iUuatrioos Sir, for many years. 
Your ifriend and servant, 

Juan Fuca. 
Cephakmia, September 24th, 1596.' 

** And the said letter came into my 
hands in Venice, the 16th dav of Novem- 
ber, 1596; but my lawsuit with the com- 
pany of Turkey was not ended, by rea- 
h-»Q of Sir John Spencer's suit, made in 
England, and at the Queen's Court, to 
ihe company, seeking only to have his 
Dooej oischarged which 1 had attached 
in Venice for my said pension, and there- 
by my own purse was not yet ready for 
the C J reek pilot. 

**And nevertheless, hoping that my 
■aid suit would have shortly a good end, 
I wrote another letter to this Qreek pilot 
frm Venice, dated the 20th of Novem- 
ber, 1506, which came not to his hands* 
and also another letter dated the 24th of 
January, 1596, [1507 ?~A. S. T.] which 
came to bis hands. And thereof he wrote 
me answer, dated the 28th of May, 1507, 
which I received the first of August, 
V>^t by Thomas Norden an English 
mercliant, yet living in London, wherein 
1^ promised still to go with me unto 
England, to perform the said Voyage for 
discovery of the northwest pasoago into 
the South Sea, if I woald send him 
■HMMy for his charges, according to his 
firmer writing, without which money he 
fai<l he oould not g(i, for that as he was 
oodune utterly when he was in the ship 
Santft Anna, which came from China and 
was robbed at California. And yet again, 
afterwards, I wrote him another letter 
(pan Venice,, whercun to he wrote me an- 
swer by a letter written in his Greek 
laagoaa^, dated the 20th October, 1508, 
the which I have still by me, wherein he 
promised still to go with me into England, 
and perform the said voyaji;e of discovery 
•Y the northwest passage into the Soutn 
S^a by the said straits, which he calleth 
the btraii of Nova Spania, which he 
•aiih is bot thirty days' voyage in the 
ttraits, if I will send him the money I 
ouald not yet send him, for that I had 



not yet recovered my pension owing me 
by the company of Turkey aforesaid ; 
and so of long time I stayed any further 
proceedings with him in this matter. 

" And yet, lastly, when T myself was 
at Zante, in the month of June, 1602, 
minding to pass from thence for England 
by sea, for that I had then recovered a 
little money from the company of Turkey, 
by an order of the Lords of the Privy 
Council of England, I wrote another let- 
ter to this Greek pilot, to Cephalonia, and 
requested him to come to me to Zante, 
and go with me into England, but I had 
no answer thereof from him ; for that, as 
I heard afterward at Zante, he was then 
dead, or very likely to die of sickness. 
Whereupon I returned myself, by sea. 
from Zante to Venice, and from thence I 
went, by land, through France, into Eng- 
land, where I arrivea at Christmas, anno 
1602, safely, I thank God, after my ab- 
sence from thence ten years time, with 
forest troubles had for the Company of 
Turkey's business, which hath cost me a 
great sum of money, for which I am not 
yet satisfied of them.'' 

Greenhow notes in his aforesaid work, 
on page 86, that Michael Locke was, for 
some time, English consul at Aleppo, 
and was an intimate friend of Richard 
Ilakluyt, for whom he translated the 
Decades of Pedro Martir, [a work on the 
early history of America, etc., written 
by Columbus' friend, sometimes known 
in American and English books as Pedro 
Martyr de Anghiera. — A. S. T.] and fur- 
nished other papers published in Ilak- 
luyt's Collection of Voyeges. Hakluyt 
was, at one time, Chaplain to the English 
embassy at Paris. In Greenhow will bo 
found, also, the letters of Juan de Fuca 
in the original lingua Franca^ as well as 
their translation inserted herein. Hum- 
boldt says, in his Essay on New Spain, 
that the Straits of Anian were so named 
from one of the brothers on board of 
Gaspar de Cortereal's vessel, in Cortereal's 
voyage of 1400 to Labrador. 

The question of the discovery of the 
Straits of Juan de Fuca, is not only one 
of the most curious and celebrated in 
cosmography, commerce, and maritime 



164 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



discoTeries, but entered, with great effect, 
into the political discussions on the Ore- 
gon Question between Great Britain and 
the United States, from 1840 to 1846, 
ending only on the 15th of June, 1846, 
at the conclusion of the treaty of Wash- 
ington. It has been a vexed question in 
history, geography, biography, policy, 
lying, cheating, etc., etc., for 268 years, 
and wont be ended for 268 years more. 

No doubt Sebastian Yiscaino's expe- 
dition of 1602 was made to yerify the 
statements of Juan de Fuca, as well as 
other Spanish expeditions, prior to 1600, 
of some of which and of subsequent voy- 
ages thereaway, we have faint printed 
records, while others are either lost or 
may be found in manuscripts in Spain, 
Mexico, Manilla, or, as would seem from 
Mr. York's notes and Masaraohi's Biog- 
raphy, are still to be found in Cephalo- 
nia. 

The Straits of Juan de Fuca were 
specially searched for by Heceta, from 
Mexico, in 1775, and by Cook, from Eng- 
land, in 1778, without result. It was 
finally found and re-discoYered by Capt. 
Berkley, in 1787, in the ship Imperial 
Eagle, under the flag of the Austrian 
East India Company. This re-discovery 
was afterwards claimed by Capt. Meares, 
in his voyages published in London in 
1790, as made by him before Berkley. 
It was entered by Capt. Robert Gray, of 
Boston, in 1789, in the trading sloop 
Washington, who sailed into it fifty miles 
in '* an east southeast direction and re- 
turned southward, from whence, in the 
ship Columbia, he departed with a cargo 
of furs for China and exchanged for a 
cargo of tea, with which he entered the 
U. S., Boston, in 1790, having for the 
first time carried the flag of the United 
States round the world.'' His partner, 
Capt John Kendrick, also of Boston, af- 
terwards in the same trading sloop Wash- 
ington, sailed in August of the same 
year of 1789, through the Straits of Juan 



de Fuca, in its entire length ; being the 
first vessel (after Juan de Fuca's) which 
had proved the truth of the geographical 
facts disputed since 1593. IC was after- 
wards surveyed by Capt. George Van- 
couver, in 1792, under special orders 
from the government of Great .Britain ; 
the survey having been made by laeuts. 
Cayetano Yaldez and Dionisio Galiano 
in conjunction with Yancouver; these 
officers having been sent by the govern- 
ment of Spain, on a voyage fnun Mexico 
in the Sutil and Mejicana, to ascertain 
the existence and, if found, the extent of 
the aforesaid Strait of the Greek pilot. 

The country of the Straits of Juan de 
Fuca was the great field of the American 
sea fur traders, who drove all other com- 
petitors out, till the Hudson's Bay Com- 
pany and the American Fur Company 
eat them up. The fur trade made the 
fortunes of the richest mercantile houses 
of Boston, Salem, New York, and other 
American towns, and which has produced 
again, in our days, vast commercial and 
political results. These facts will be 
found related more at large, and in well 
digested compilation and collation, in 
Greenhow's work, before mentioned, and 
in the voyages of the different fur traders. 

The discussion of the Oregon Question, 
between the American and the British 
governments, from 1843 to 1846, brought 
the Straits of De Fusa again into promi- 
nent notice, and then it turned on the 
pivot of the discovery and the possession 
for Spiun, by Spanish navigators, of the 
countries of the straits, and so by sale 
of Louisiana, under Jefferson, to the 
United States, and by subsequent treaties 
with Mexico of limits and boundaries, 
and also the discoveries of Gray, Ingra- 
ham, and Kendrick, as American citi- 
zens; and on the part of the English by 
the re-survey of Yancouver, the hoisting 
of the British flag in various parts, and 
the claims raised by Meares, Colnet, et al., 
and the Hudson's Bay Company. This 



MEMORIALS OF JUAN DE FUGA. 



165 



inally setUad by the Oregon treaty 
in Wmshington City, of 1846. 

In the beginning of this disonssion, 
Capi. Churlee Wilkes arrired in the Uni- 
ted SUtes, in June, 1842, with his ex- 
ploring sqnndron, which had performed 
the cuenit of the globe. He made care- 
ful earreys and explorations, in 1841, of 
the Straits of Jaan de Fnoa— the Paget 
Sound* and theColumbia Riyer country — 
at least, as careftil as his instructions 
and his circumstances allowed; and 
Bueh did this Tilified navigator accom- 
plish ibr his countiymen, too. His law- 
auita were only ended about 1854. 

Fnmont was also in the Oregon coun- 
try, in 1841, by order of the United 
Slates gOTemment, to oonnect his sur- 
veys with those of ^Olkes in the Straits 
of Fuea, ete.; he also has had an agree- 
able time ! which wruag out of him, four 
years ago, " My youth and prime were 
•pent in toil and care.'' Neither are his 
lawamta ended in 1859. Goremments, 
all of them, seeas to be queer things — 
iataa^ble nonentities, "with no bodies 
to be emshed, and no souls for perdition.'' 

After the golden epoch of 1848, every- 
thing corporeal and spiritual floated Cal- 
ifaniawajda, (as now, since 1848, every- 
thing physical and mental is pregnated 
with California,) and Juan de Fucacame 
to be known as a California household 
word. The United States Government 
sent coast surveyors, land surveyors, 
lighlFhoaee surveyors, etc., who made 
mora earefal, special and detailed exam- 
inationa of the islands, shores, sounds, 
riveffi, bayaj lands, etc., of the Juan de 
Fnen eountry; the continental part of 
whieh is now known as Washington ter- 
ritory. The aoeount of these matters 
■ay be found at large in the Ave volumes 
of the Reports of the Coast Survey office, 
from 1852 to 1857, made by Praf. A. D. 
Baehe, Superintendent^ and the Land 
Oftoe lUports. The country is found to 
be of the rerjjlni importance to the 



United States, and of the utmost value 
to our naval, commercial and political 
influence and preponderence in the Pa- 
cific Ocean — ^because it has the best har- 
bors and natural dock-yards in the world, 
a highly salubrious climate, immense 
quantities of flue agricultural lands, close 
to tranquil navigable waters, and no end 
of timber for ships and houses, and more 
fish than the Cape Cod people can ever 
cateh, if they all turned sailors and fish- 
ermen, and cast nets and lines f^m now 
to eternity. It can contain millions of 
people, and supply all the deserts, val- 
leys, and mines of California and Ariio- 
na with wood, and cover them with 
houses; and if burnt down twenty times, 
build them up again. 

Finally, in the summer of 1858, to 
further confirm the simple account of the 
old Greek sailor in 1592, "that the land 
is very fruitful and rich of gold, silver, 
pearls and other thing8,like Nova Spania," 
a great rush of events took 30,000 people, 
in ninety days, ''passing by divers islands 
in that sailing," to find the gold of Frar 
ser River, which comes into the North- 
em Seas at the termination of the Straits 
ef Juan de Fuca.* They found the gold 
and thetf will always find it in abundance, 
and be a great help to California in ten 
thousand ways, never mind what scribes 
think, pro or con, or who it makes, or 
who it unmakes. The result of which 
was, that two new Colonies and one Sov- 
ereign State were made, by people of our 
own race and language— the one, Van- 
couver's Island, the other, British Colum- 
bia, and the State of Oregon. And of 
great extent and value are the North Psr 

* The Bpaniih naTig»iort of 1780-M mention th« 
extatenee of veins of le«d, eopptr, ftad other mine- 
rals, on the northern coast. Bpeelct of the Moote- 
rs Hallotas, or Anion, are found In the waters of 
the Straits of Fuea, and also Mos«les, (MjrtUtts), and 
Clame, (Lotrarias) ; some of the two latter said to 
be of rery larfe slae. Theie, and other Molosea, 
are often found In California, containing large nom- 
bers of coarse pearli ; and It may be the lame o«- 
ours in those of the north coast, straits and eounds, 
of VanoOBTer and Washington, whence, probably, 
De faca*e aesertlon, though seemingly, before IMS, 
an extraragant one of his tlmes«— A. 8. T. 



166 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



cific Countries to our race; much greater 
than we or our children, for two genera- 
tions, can have any idea of — ^peradventure 
to unravel the mystic net of human des- 
tinies and hopes — ^mayhap to subdue the 
shores of Eastern Asia ; but certainly 
to govern the vast territorial and aqueous 
domain of the great Pacific Ocean ; where- 
of, we may say with the poet, so strange 
has nature worked hereaway, continental 
and insular — 

" Art, natare, earth itself to change is doomed ; 
Earthquakes have raised to heaven the humble vale, 
And gulfs the mountain's mighty mass entombed ; 
And where the ocean rolls, wide continents have 
bloomed." 

Finally, the governments of Great Brit- 
ain and the United States, always mis- 
understanding and then, suddenly, un- 
derstanding each other, formed a joint 
commission of civil and scientific officers, 
in 1858, to run the line west, through 
from Lake Superior, on the forty-ninth 
parallel of north latitude, until it touches 
" the middle of the chanuel which sepa- 
rates the continent from Vancouver's 
Island, and thence southerly ^ through the 
middle of the said channel^ and of the 
Straits of Juan de Fuca to the Pacific 
Ocean." So the English language, in 
1860, completely encircles and embraces 
the maratime commerce of the globe. 

And, as Frazer River turned out, it 
seems to be designed that the aforesaid 
oommission may find a country fit to build 
a continental railroad, so that people may 
have the choice of a northern line thro' 
a wilderness of woods and rivers, or by 
a southern route, through deserts, sheep 
pastures and silver mines. Certainly, 
the joint survey will add greatly to every 
department of human knowledge. 

The further discussion of this subject, 
is beyond the limits prescribed by the 
necessities of a California Magazine. The 
matter of Juan de Fuca and the Straits 
which bear his name, and the noble, 
beautiful countries they invest, may be 
found discussed in the Voyage of the 



Sutil and Mejicana — ^in Humboldt's New 
Spain, and his other works — in Vancou- 
ver's Voyage— in the Voyages of Meares, 
Colnet, Gray, Kendrick, Ingraham, ei aJ, 
— in Wilke's United States Expedition — 
in Greenhow's work on Oregon and Cali- 
fornia — in the U. S. Coast Surveys and 
Land Office Reports — in ^lany French 
and Russian works, and in other books 
of the California Bibliography. Doubt- 
less interesting matters relating to Mich- 
ael Lock and De Fuca, may be found in 
the public and old corporation offices, and 
in the records of great families, in Lon- 
don, of Queen Elizabeth's time, which 
would well reward the industry of com- 
petent critics and writers. 

Humboldt, in his essay on New Spain, 
Tol, 2, page 359, London edition, says, 
in 1804: "We do not allude to the apo<y 
ryphal voyages of Maldonado, Juan de 
Fuca, and Bartolome Font, to which, for 
along time, only too much importance 
was given. The most part of the impos- 
tures published under the names of these 
three navigators, were destroyed by the 
laborious and learned discussions of sev- 
eral officers of the Spanish Marine!! 
Notwithstanding all my enquiries, I could 
never discover in New Spain a single 
document in which the pilot De Fuca or 
the Admiral Fonte were named.'' And 
yet, the learned author seems to have ig;- 
nored the force of the evidently truthful, 
honest note of Lock, in Purohas, of 1625, 
which would have led him andthelearur 
ed Spaniards to the very spot of his birth- 
place and death, to verify, in the main, 
the relations of the old Greek pilot. 
Probably for some political or personal 
spite, all record of De Fuca had been 
destroyed in the archives of Mexico and 
Spain, after the fact was discovered of 
his services being offered to Queen Eliz- 
abeth, who desperately hated the Span- 
iards, for more than ten thousand good 
reasons. Martinez de Navarette, in his 
introduction to the Voyage of the SuUl 



THE FEAST OF LANTERNS. 



167 



And Jfejicana, (made in 1792, under Gal- 
imno and Valdet ), and published at Mad- 
rid in 1802, by order of the King of 
Spttin, saj8 tbat the most diligent and 
tboiYNigfa search was made by his friends, 
Ciriaoo Ceralloe and Cean Bermudy, in 
the archires of SoTille, and other places 
in Spain, without being able to find the 
leaM trace of ike name of De Fu/ca, Sim- 
ilnr researches were made in Mexico, 
among the archiyes of that country, un- 
der express orders from the King's Got- 
•mment in Spain, with the same result. 
It is a pity, indeed, these officers did not 
take the pains to send a few hundred 
miles off to the east, to Cephalonia, to 
prerent history setting them down as in- 
eonpetent for the task of careful and im- 
partial critical writers. 

The moral of this cosmopolitan affair 
of Joan de Fnca, may be wound up here, 
by showing, after two hundred and sixty- 
right years of literary and scientific dis- 
pat«s, in the lawyers' motto, that '* Just- 
ice u slow but sure.'' He is in his grave 
in the old Greek island now, but if he 
had have known, like some other long- 
headed milors, ancient and modem, the 
▼aloe of the other cunning law axiom — 
well ascertained erery day in California 
— that "To the rigihmt belong the bene- 
fits of the law," he might have left his 
sixty thousand gold ducats in Manilla, 
and so worked his way to wealth and 
station, and not been robbed by the filli- 
bosters nor ended his days in care and 
poverty, with not even a secure place in 
the history of men's actions. But 268 
years is a long time to do justice to a 
man's memory. And yet, with the Cali- 
fornia lights after 1848, and the infor- 
mation from our friend, Mr. York, who 
can doubt the facts of the evidently hon- 
est, carefully punctuated, and detailed 
note of Michael Lock, the English consul 
at Aleppo, in 1596, of the London Com- 
pany of Merchants to the Levant; and 
how ha conferred with such world-re- 



nowned Englishmen as the Great Lord 
Cecil and the Great Sir Walter Raleigh, 
names so well known in the history of 
America 7 
Monterey J Aprils 1859. 

THE FEAST OF LANTERNS. 



BT O. T. 8PR0AT. 



Once every year, the Japanese celebrate 
the Feast of Lanterns, in memory of the 
departed. Little boats, decorated with 
lanterns, and loaded with gifts of wine, 
olives, and honey, are sent out in the di- 
rection of the southern seas, whither 
they suppose their lost friends have gone. 
Every gift has on it written the name of 
some one they love, and bears to him a 
message from the friends he has left be- 
hind. 

Go ! to the friends we love, 

O'er the dim southern sea; 
To them our choicest offeriogs bear — 
Grapes f^om the vineyards, olives fair. 

And honied sweets from the bee. 

Bear them these gifts, inscribed 

Each with a name we love ; 
Fathers, and mothers, and sisters dear, 
Brothers, who left us with many a tear, 

O'er the distant seas to rove. 

And, oh ! for those, whose lives 

Were borrowed from our own ! 
Who from our broken household bands, 
Cling to us with their little hands — 
^ With many a look and tone. 

Oh ! let these tokens tell 

Our yeamiDgs for them still 1 [years — 
Of love tbat lives on thro' the changing 
Of a place in the heart, now a fount of 

Which only they can fill. [tears, 

Go t o'er the distant seas t 

Borne by the favoring wind ; 
Te bear with ye rich treasures there — 
Many a blessing, many a prayer. 
From the hearts ye leave behind. 



168 



HUTGHIKQS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



OUR PLAY. 

I. — THS OCCASION. 

Wb had played " Proverbe," " Hunt 
the Slipper/' " Button, button I who has 
the Button V and all the other plays, 
to which innumerable forfeits are attach- 
ed, and which are paid with innumerable 
kisses. Numerous pilgrimages had been 
made to ''Rome/' until finally the seal 
of the TOtaries flagged, and still it was 
only eleyen o'clock, and the entire com- 
pany was eager for more amusement. 

The scene was my father's farm-house ; 
the time, a beautiful moonlight night in 
June; the occasion, a gathering of a 
dosen or fifteen neighboring boys and 
girls — young gentlemen and ladies, would 
be more proper, perhaps — ^who had met 
by chance, or agreement, as often hap- 
pens in rural districts. They had stroll- 
ed out in pairs, or groups, in the early 
part of the summer evening, and finally 
all congregated at Uncle Ben's — as the 
patriarohial mansion of my father was 
known, far and near — and there were 
enjoying themselves in rustic sports and 
merriment. 

The amusements had all flagged, as I 
have said, and still the party was not in- 
clined to separate. A dozen new games 
were proposed, but some one raised ob- 
jections to them all. Finally, a theatri- 
cal entertainment was suggested, and 
met with general favor. But a serious 
difficulty offered itself to the plan: not 
one of the company knew a part in aify 
play. The objection was apparently in- 
surmountable, but was finally overcome 
by the brilliant idea of extemporizing a 
performance. Then there was a busy 
and noisy consultation concerning the 
plot, the characters and who should fill 
them, and what they should do, and all 
the other business appertaining to stage 
management. In all this, the girls had 
the most to say, and their imaginations 
kindled with the romantic sut^eot, all 



agreeing that there must be a beautiful 
and interesting strange lady, who moat 
be shut up in some haunted old castle ; 
and there must neoessarily be a noble 
and oonrtiy lover,, who should rescue her 
from danger, and on whom she must be- 
stow her hand ; and then there must be 
a base and black-hearted rival, and ruf- 
fians, and a ghoet — ^yes, a ghost I if noth- 
ing else. Order was finally restored from 
this confusion, and the plot and charac- 
ters arranged. Kate Holden appointed 
herself stage<manager, and announced 
the following ''cast" for the thrilling 
three-act drama of " The Lady of the 
Doomed CasUe"— " Lady Isabella," the 
strange and beautiful hwoine, Isabel 
Heath; the noble and gallant "Count 
Stefano," the favored lover, my humble 
self, Stephen Bland ; the base and in- 
triguing "Don Ignaoio," the rival suitor, 
James Hardinge ; the two ruffians, Rob- 
ert Hardinge and John Heath; ghoat» 
Albert Clark; "Juana," the maid of 
" Lady Isabella," Jane Ckrk. 

Miss Holden was a mischievous little 
witch, and she had exercised her greatest 
powers of mischief in casting the charac- 
ters of our play. In the selection of Isa- 
bel Heath as the heroine, and sustainer 
of that particular character, she had 
shown admirable judgment, though de- 
serving littie credit, as she was perhaps 
the only one of the company who could 
have acted the part. She was a strange 
and original character, naturally; her 
disposition a curious mixture of wild 
mirth and serious thoughtfulness. She 
possessed complete command over her 
rich voice, and had a wonderful power 
of language. These personal peculiari- 
ties fitted her admirably for her part* 
But the question was whispered, " would 
she accept it ?" She was self-willed and 
capricious, we all knew, and would suit 
her own fancy entirely. While the plan 
of the play was being discussed, she had 
been in one of her maddest spells of mer- 



OUR PLAY. 



169 



it, ber black ejes langbing at ber 
own wfld Baggeetions; but wben tbe 
aanageren announced ber arrangements, 
tii« gajetj bad Tanisbed from ber fea- 
aad ibe now stood by tbe mantel- 
loet in tbongbtfnl roTerie, tbe con* 
toor of ber graoefblly bent neck and fine 
fcMturw dear! J defined by tbe lamp-ligbt 
Perhaps sbe bad sufiicient reason for be- 
ing tfaongbtfViI, 4br tbe miscbief-loying 
tendeneiee of Miss Kate bad made a east 
of dimraeters tbat migbt well proTC em- 
btttTttflODg. Both I and James Hardinge, 
thm riTal lorers in tbe play, were under- 
stood to be soitors for liiss Heath's favor, 
and the words and actions of our im- 
praapto drama migbt be so suggestive 
aa to provoke merriment at our expense. 
Tba wbole party appeared to entertain 
thia opiaioii, and seemed to doubt if Isa- 
bel woold play tbe part Kate stole soft- 
ly to her side, and gently placing her arm 
aboalher aeQk» I bewd ber whisper, 
** OoBBo, Belle, don't let any caprice spoil 
IfaaaattsemeDt — it's only play — all make 
bcliave. yon know.'' AjmI then followed 
an taaadibly whispered oonferenee, after 
aager e s s direeted tbe actors 
to p r oeeed to fix their eoe- 
whilo she arranged the stage bus- 

Thea loOowed half an boor of ooofn- 
sisn ransaekJBg the whole boose for ar- 
liclei of dress and scenery. Curtains 

the parior, and side 
hnsg at the fiurther end, where 
two doo^wiadows opened out upon the 
patch. Tba aadieooe was seated at the 
other end of the roon, and the lights 
placed ao as to leave the part fitted up 
Ibr tha stage senawbat darkened— a boy 
beiag p l aee d by each light, to soreeen it 
vith Ida bat to prodnee a suflioient effect 
of gloooa ibr the appearance of tbe ghost 

had finiahed tbe 
of their eoetumes. Miss 
Heath was dressed in deep black. Her 
natofaUy pale^ had received ad- 




ditional pallidness from the application 
of flour, and the contrast with the dark- 
ness of ber eyes and apparel, and tbe 
deep crimson of ber lips, gave ber the 
appearance of a fated being. A heavy 
veU, worn as a rcbosa, fell from ber balf- 
loosened hair upon ber neck and should- 
ers ; and a sprig of white lilac and a 
spotless snow-ball were fixed in tbe 
tresses of her raven hair. Sbe looked 
admirable ; and as sbe stood silent and 
thoughtful in tbe uncertain light of the 
porch, her appearance inspired a feeling 
of strange awe, well calculated to be 
awakened by ber part of the play. Tbe 
noble " Count Stofano'' wore high, lace- 
topped boots, black doublet, black man- 
tle, black plume — borrowed from hie 
mother's bonnet-box — and a sword bis 
father bad used when captain of tbe 
militia. *' Don Ignaoio's" costume was 
very similar, lacking only tbe sword, 
which want was supplied by a huge 
horse-pistol, stuck in bis belt The ruf- 
fians were dressed carefully in character ; 
the ghost wrapped carefhlly in a sheet, 
and the maid's toilet bad undergone very 
little change from its every day appear- 
ance. The audience was seated, the ac- 
tors were all in the "green-room" — ^the 
trellissed, vine-covered porch. The bell 
rang, and the curtains were drawn aside. 

n. 



PLAT. 

ting by the window^ holding in her hand 
afadidfiower. 

Lady iMabeUa singing -^ 

Wbat is tbe secret of the doom 

That, like some vile enchanter*! powers. 
Blasts with its spell of blighting gloom 

The brightness of this world of ours? 
We bid the eye with smiles be bright, 

Bnt tear-drops in a torrent start ; 
We bid the breast with Joy be light, 

But grief weighs sadly on the heart 

The day is bright and clear at mom— 

Ere noon the »kj is overcast ; 
A snmmer-day the flowers adorn, 

Then wither in the autumn blast 



170 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



A season bears the birds' glad strain — 
Their merry warbled tones are hushed ; 

The fountains leap a day, and then 
The place is arid where thej gushed. 

[Pauses, and idly picks the leaves of 
the withered flower, while she solilo- 
quizes.] 

** Ah, me ! how sad the hours when 
one dare not think ; for who, that feels 
themselves the weary curse of a demon, 
would rear even the tender offspring of 
fancy to have it share the same sad fate. 
My affection is fatal ; I foster a flower, 
and it fades ; I cherish some little song- 
ster, and it droops and its glad song dies. 
I dare not love a human being, for my 
love would blight their existence. And 
yet, I fear this wretched heart— despite 
my every effort — will doom a fellow-mor- 
tal, the noblest, the bravest Ah I Ste- 
&no, how fondly, how fatally " 

[A slight noise at the lattice — she sud- 
denly pauses.] 

Count Sie/ano, wUhout — "Speak on, 
fair lady. So that thou lovest, nor death 
nor doom I heed." 

Lady Isabella, — " What voice is that, 
whose accents send this thrill of soft 
emotion wandering through my frame ? 
Its tones had scarcely echoed, ere they 
died ; and yet, I should know it, did it 
but whisper one word amid a multitude 
of deafening sounds/' 

** I should think anybody would know 
Steve Bland's voice, it sounds so much 
like a pumpkin-vine trombone," said 
some one of the audience in a whisper, 
that was audible throughout the room. 

[Count Stefano, not hearing the inter- 
ruption, enters the apartment, and kneels 
at the feet of the Lady Isabella.] 

Count Stefano, — "A thousand pardons, 
lady, for this rude intrusion ; but bind 
love down to a set of formal rules, and 
then school lovers to formality." 

Lady Isabella. — **l fain would chide 
thee, but my tongue lacks power ; I fain 
would flee — ^my limbs have lost their 
strength. Your conduct, sir, is most un- 
civil ; leave me, I pray yon, on the in- 
stant." 

Count SUfano.-^** Thy slightest wish 
were a most potent command. But this 
full heart will not suffer me to go, till I 
have unladen some of its weight of love, 



Hear me speak, fair lady ; be gracioaB 
the flowers, which listen to the pleasing 
love-tale of every repining breeze. [jCount 
Stefano's voice sank to an almost maud- 
able tone, as he continued]: Miss Heath, 
I have long wished for an opportunity 
like this, as I truly kneel in character at 
your feet, to tell you how much I adore 
you ; to ask if my love " 

"Louder!" shouted Kate Holden, in 
her sauciest tone, " your reading of that 
fine passage is doubtless very pleasing to 
those who hear, but recollect your audi- 
ence is not limited to one fair person, 
noble Count Stefano." 

[Count Stefano, slightly embarrassed, 
resumes :] 

'' Fair lady, when first mine eyes be- 
held your heavenly beauty, its maeic 
power seduced my willing heart, ana I 
became a captive — thy loveliness my mas- 
ter. I struggled not to be free, but glad- 
ly submitted to a bondagesshain, whose 
links were golden and whose galling was 
pleasure. [Soito voce, agam.] Miss 
Heath, I do not exaggerate when I speak 
thus. The devoted love I have long 
Cher " 

At this moment the the accursed ghost 
stalked in upon us. I could have ezer> 
cised my swordsmanship upon him with 
a gusto ; but a general burst of appro- 
bation greeted his appearance. He had 
made a decided hit, and while he stood 
there, with a ghastly hand outstretched 
towards us, the curtain was drawn on 
the first scene. 

The rest of the play passed off well. 
The ghost made numerous entrances, 
often at the most inopportune moment, 
but always with success. ''Donlgnacio" 
played his part admirably. He became 
jealous of and enraged at ''Count Stefa^ 
no," and fired his pistol at him, which 
that intrepid individual returned by a 
sword-thrust through his mantle. "Lady 
Isabella's" maid sat on a foot-stool, and 
said nothing through the play, charming- 
ly. But the grand thing of all, was the 
closing scene, where ''Lady Isabella'' 
was rescued from the hands of " Don Ig- 



OUR PLAY. 



171 



' and the ruffians, who were forcing 
ber awaj, bj the yaliant arm of the 
iK>ble *' Count Stefano/' who slew the 
three and bore the lady off in triumph. 
ImmenM applause greeted this act, and 
the modience encored until we had to re- 
peat it ; after which, the principal per- 
foi mere were called before the curtain, 
wad the plaj was over. 



III.— CONCLUSION. 

The golden summer days had passed 
rmpidlj away, and the gorgeous days of 
antomn began to tint the sky and forests. 
One thought alone had engrossed my 
hemrt since the night of our play, when 
I had acted the loyer and protector of 
*'I«dy Isabella." Could I but kneel 
again at Isabel Heath's feet, as I had 
knelt then, declare my passionate love 
and be rewarded with an approving smile, 
which I could be assured was not all 
a|iort« my happiness would be complete. 
Bat I had never been able to work my- 
adf np to sufficient courage to make the 
attenpt. There is a dastardly coward- 
ice that annerree the heart of the bravest 
torer, when he thinks of the fearful scene 
that is to determine his fate, and makes 
him panse upon the very threshold of 
the great event. 

It was on one of the bright evenings 
of the mild harveet-moon, that Isabel and 
I etood among the flowers in the yard of 
Mr. Heath's dwelling. My heart vras 
fraaght vrith the hopes and fears of a 
Btgbty resolntion; but the oonsidera- 
tioos which bid ns paose on such occa- 
sianSy had made me silent and hesitating 
fur a long time. Isabel was calmer. Per- 
haps she was wholly nnsuspioious of the 
approaching crisis, or perhaps she pos- 
sessed more mastery over her feelings. 
Wcmen, I believe, are generally cooler 
nader such circumstances than men ; and 
very natnrally, too, for the decision rests 
entirely with them. At any rate, she 
eareleasly gathered, here and there, some 



lingering summer flower, and chatted 
pleasantly and perfectly self-possessed. 

"Miss Heath," I began, after a long 
silence, ''have you ever thought since of 
our play of the 'Lady of the Doomed 
Castle?'" 

"Oh, very frequently." 

" Your part was charmingly acted-^ 
the character suited you exactly." 

"Indeed? I will return the compli- 
ment by saying that you personated my 
conception of the part of ' Count Stefano' 
to the very life." 

" If so, I owe it all to the inspiration 
of your presence. I own, the part pleas- 
ed me ; for to be your accepted lover and 
protector, under any circumstances, is 
what I would most desire." 

I own that I felt a little complacence 
at this speech, for I thought it nicely 
turned. At least, I had broken the ice ; 
and, as Isabel remained silent, with her 
head slightly inclined, I grew bolder, and 
proceeded: 

<*Yes, Belle, if you think the offer 
worthy of acceptance, my fate, my for- 
tune, and the boundless love of a gener- 
ous heart, are at your service, and I only 
wish, in return, this little hand as mine." 

I took the little hand in my own. It 
trembled slightly, but seemed to remain 
willingly in my gentle grasp. I raised 
it to my lips, kissed the taper fingers and 
continued : 

" Say if " 

" Isabel I Isabel 1 " rang out the sharp 
voice of Mrs. Heath, from the cottage- 
door. "Where in the world are you? 
The dew is falling, and yon will surely 
catch your death out there without your 
shawl I" 

The sharp cry of the regardful matron 
had startled us, and the trembling little 
hand was quickly withdrawn from mine. 
We were screened from the mother's view 
by a dense clump of lilac bushes. 

" It isn't cold, mother ; I'll come in a 
moment," answered IsabeL 



172 



HUTGHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZIXE. 



"And my answer, Belle,'' I said. 

She looked up, with the prettiest smile 
that ever played on the features of a 
maiden standing by a lilao bush under 
the mild rays of a harvest moon, and 
handing me a bunch of flowers, she said : 

" There's a rose-bud among them, I 
belieye; and—" 



i« 



And- 



?" 



Our lips approached each other, jast 
where the lilac sprays brushed our cheeks; 
and there was a faint rustle of the leavea, 
and another faint sound, well knowci to 
lovers' ears, and Belle darted away into 
the house, J. T. G. 



THE MINERS' DEATH. 



In a glen of the Sierras, where a rapid river rolled. 
From the wild Nevada's summits, with offerings of gold — 
On the banks where he had toiled for many a weary day, 
Parched with a burning fever, a dying miner lay. 

" Come closer to me, mother, put your hand upon my brow ; 
As yoa kissed me when we parted, my mother, kiss me now — 
Life's dream is almost over, it shall waken soon in joy — 
My mother, bless me softly, as you blessed me when a boy." 

He died alone and friendless : but in his fevered dream 

A mother, like an angel, came beside that golden stream ; 

But the hands of thoughtless strangers, as the sun sank in the wesiy 

Without a tear, without a prayer, consigned him to his rest 

Wherever, in this western land, has rolled the living tide 
Of emigrants with golden dreams, the mounds lie side by side— 
In Nevada's rugged gorges, in every mountain glen— 
On hill side and by river, are the graves of noble men. 

The wild flowers bloom above them, in beauty, every spring — 
Sweet offerings of nature's hand, which friends may never bring ; 
But far away, in other lands, fond eyes grow dim with tears. 
And vainly wait the coming of the loved of other years. 

The stars drift up the mountains into depths of asure skies, 
And gaze upon tiie lonely graves like watchful spirit eyes ; 
But far away, in eastern lands, the bright stars beaming there. 
Look down on &ces, watching in tearful, midnight prayer. 

In the western El Dorado, beside the mountun streams, 
The hearts of weary men, at night, turn homeward in their dreams ; 
But far away, across the sea, how many hearts are breaking. 
For those who sleep beisde these streams, the sleep that knows no waking. 

8. 



CHINADOM m CALIFORNIA. 



173 



CHIKADOM IN CALIFORNIA. 

BT BXT. J. C. HOLBEOOK. 
IB TWO PAPS]ia.~PJLPIR THI BSOOND. 

On one oocaaion we were present when 
m Chinaman from the interior yiiuted the 
lemfile in this city and performed his de- 
rxan to the idol. Having procured some 
jon sticks and papers, on which were 
•Qsne inscriptions, from an adjoining 
rooot, he set op two of the former on end 
in front of the idol and lighted them with 
fire fitxn a lamp which is always kept on 
the table, and thej continued burning for 
a long time. He then prostrated himself 
in the middle of the room, in front of the 
idol three times, touching the floor with 
his forehead. He then lighted the papers 
and waved them while burning towards 
the idol, and then prostrated himself 
again three times. The object of this was 
to aacore the favor of the deified individ- 
aal whom he worshipped, and prosperity, 
throof^ his assistance, in his mining op- 



Sereral years since some efforts were 
eoamenoed in this city for christianiz- 
ing diis class of our population. Rev. Mr. 
Speer, who had labored as a missionary 
of the Presbyterian Board in China, and 
who spoke the Chinese language, was 
sent here, and under his auspices, a 
ehapri was erected by subscriptions 
aaoBg our dtisens to the amount of 
$ 2D,000. The property is held by Trus- 
teaa. At length Mr. Speer's health failed 
and he returned to the AtUntic Stated, 
and hitherto his place has not been sup- 
frfied. Little apparent good resulted from 
his labors, but a successor is now on the 
way to renew the effort for the benefit of 
thia daas, and it is to be hoped they will 
not be in vain. In Sacramento city, Rev. 
Mr. Shttlts, a Baptist missionary, has 
aeeomplished something in the way of 
enlightening the C&inese and leading 
them to embrace Christianity and unite 
with hia church. 



A vast majority of' the Chinese in this 
State are to be found in the interior, en- 
gaged in mining speculations. Great 
prejudice exists against them, however, 
among the Americans, and they are treat- 
ed with much contempt and opposition. 
They are not allowed to labor with others, 
nor, as a general thing, in new diggings, 
but are compelled to confine themselves 
chiefly to re-working old placer^ that 
have been abandoned by the Americans. 
They live, however, very cheaply, and if 
they can earn from a quarter to half a 
dollar a day, it is five or ten times as much 
as they can realize at home. A few years 
ago a State law was passed forbidding 
the immigration of Chinese, and for a 
time none came here, but recently this 
act has been declared unconstitutional by 
the Supreme Court, and the tide has be- 
gun again to set in, and several thous- 
ands have arrived at this port, and many 
others are on the way. 

It is well known that China is over- 
crowded with population, and there is a 
prospecC that thousands of her surplus 
people will find their way to our shores, 
and some even fear that the State will be 
overrun by them. This raises the im- 
portant questions. What shall be done 
with them ? and How shall they be treat* 
ed? By the laws of the State they can- 
not become citizens if they would, and by 
their customs, habits and language, they 
seem to be cut off from intercourse with 
our own people and prevented from amal- 
gamating with the other portions of our 
population. At present, and with such 
prejudices as exist against them, they 
seem to be outcasts, like the Gypsies in 
Europe in former days. Here is a seri- 
ous problem to be solved in reference to 
them, and it is not impossible that ere 
long the Chinese question will be as dif- 
ficult and perplexing on the Pacific slope 
as is the Negro question on the Atlantic 
side of our continent. Certainly, human- 
ity and philanthrophy, to say nothing of 



174 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



Christianity, plead in behalf of this lin- 
gular people, that they shall not be re- 
garded and treated as dogs, but as ration- 
al, moral and immortal beings, who are 
to be instructed and elevated if possible 
in the scale of being and brought into a 
condition to share in the blessings enjoy- 
ed by us in this free and christian land. 
Has not Providence sent them here to 
imbibe our views in politics and religion, 
and thus to enable us not only to benefit 
them, but to act in their own land? 
Surely we are inexcusable if we practice 
the same principle of exclusion and con- 
tempt for them, for exercising which to- 
wards Europeans and Americons the 
whole civilized world has cried out 
against China, and to terminate which, 
fleets have been sent to batter down their 
fortifications and to drub them into re- 
spect for "outside barbarians." 

There is no doubt that these people are 
accessible to salutary influences, and that 
enlightened and persevering efforts will 
tell at length in their character, views 
and condition. One thing is worthy of 
notice, viz.: that nearly all the men can 
read, and they can therefore be reached 
by books and tracts in their own lan- 
guage. In China many have been con- 
verted to Christianity, through the truth 
thus presented to them. '* The Chinese,'' 
says a missionary, " are the oldest tract 
distributors in the world. Tracts in all 
forms, from the poster on the comers of 
streets up to the splendidly embellished 
volume, are everywhere seen in Chinese 
towns.'^ Why should not tracts and 
books be furnished to the Chinese freely 
here? 

Another thing is encouraging : parents 
desire that their children should learn 
the English tongue, and will send them 
to school if invited to do so. A few pri- 
vate individuals have recently caused a 
primary school for Chinese children to 
be opened in this city, and twenty-seven 
scholars are enrolled, of whom ten are 



girls. The Board of Education baa also 
recently, with enlightened liberality, vo- 
ted a monthly appropriation out of the 
public funds to aid in sustaining this en- 
terprize. This is a movement in the 
right direction, and if persevered in, the 
results cannot but be salutary. Teach 
the children to read and speak English, 
and ere long they will imbibe our ideas 
and cast off the errors of their parents. 
In this connection and while speaking 
of the Chinese in our own State, it may 
be interesting to refer to some facis in 
reference to the character and condition 
of the nation at home. There is great 
danger of misconception on several points 
by judging of the Chinese people from 
those who emigrate to our shores. These 
are by no means a fair specimen of the 
Chinese nation, whether as to manners 
or intelligence, or capacity for improve- 
ment. They are generally of the very 
lowest and most stolid and stupid class 
of their countrymen. At a meeting re- 
cently held in London, the Chinese were 
alluded to by a speaker as being less civ- 
ilized than the Hindoos, whereupon Rev. 
Dr. Lcgge, a missionary lately returned 
from China, expressed his astonishment 
and gave the following striking descrip- 
tion of a literary institute in Canton. He 
said : 

" I am glad that the Chinese with whom 
I am acquainted did not hear him. (Re- 
newed laughter.) If they had done so, 
they might think there was some found- 
ation for the name by which their coun- 
trymen describe us, that of * barbarians.' 
(Laughter.) I look around upon this 
assembly — this vast multitude of men 
and women — I suppose we have here be- 
tween three and four thousand souls. At 
the beginning of last year I went over 
the literary palace at Canton, on the oc- 
casion of a sort of anniversary meeting, 
at which the young men of the province 
of Canton assemble to compete for litera- 
ry degrees. In that one building I count- 
ed no fewer I think than 7,242 distinct 
cells or apartments for the accommoda- 
tion of the students. In fact this assem- 



CHINADOM IN CALIFORNIA. 



175 



Uj might be pat into that one building, 
and e^ery laay and gentleman have a 
cell to himself or herself. Now, that is 
only a »pecimen of the educational spirit 
of the Chinese nation. It is true that 
their civilization is very different from 
f'tm, but they are far, far removed from 
larbarism! (Hear, hear.) When we 
tear in mind that for four thousand years 
the people have been living and flourish- 
ing there, growing and increasing — that 
nations with some attributes perhaps of 
a higher character — the Assyrian, the 
Persian, the Grecian, and the Roman, 
mnd more modern empires, have all risen 
aiMi culminated and decayed, and yet that 
the Chinese empire is still there with its 
four hnndred millions of inhabitants — 
whr, it is clear that there must be among 
the people certain moral and social prin- 
ci^lefl of the greatest virtue and power." 
(ilear, bear.) 

In an able article on China and the 
Chincee, in the New Englander for Feb- 
marf last. Prof. Whitney, of Yale Col- 
lej^ says: "We believe there is not a 
little ignorance and arrogance in the 
pc.palar estimate of the Chinese and of 
the ralae of their civilization. We hold, 
that in virtae of what thev have been 
and still are, they deserve to be treated 
with more forbearance and generosity 
than has been wont to be exhibited to- 
wards them. ♦ ♦ ♦ Feelings of grati- 
tuJi*, are not without their effect upon 
HI. Who can sit over that cup, of all 
eopa the most social and cheering, and 
the meet harmless, withal, and not feel 
within him a warm glow of something 
like affectionate good will towards a 
country which has given, and which alone 
r«jotinues to supply, such a gift to man 
and womankind t Can that part of 
earth's surface, after all, be truly said to 
have cat itself off from communion with 
the re^t, from contributing intimately 
and efficiently to their pleasures, which 
in so many and so widely scattered homes 
Ills the steaming urn with its enlivening 
beterage T What shall we say, farther, 
of the silk and porcelain, as contribu- 
fiioQa to the material comfort of the race? 



We will not insist too strongly upon the 
Chinese inventions of the Mariner's 
Compass, Gunpowder, and the Art of 
Printing, since we cannot trace their 
origin, as possessions of our own, direct- 
ly and certainly back to China, [although 
they certainly were in use there before 
they were in Europe.] But a country 
which has bestowed upon mankind silk, 
porcelain, and tea, we might almost re- 
gard as having done its part, and allow 
to build up as high a fence as it pleases 
about itself, even at the risk of shutting 
out much sunlight, and to be happy with- 
in in its own chosen way." 

The same writer remarks : "More dis- 
cordant opinions than may be found re- 
corded respecting China, the character 
of its people, the value of their institu- 
tions, their accessibility to trade, their 
capacity of adopting new ideas and new 
forms of social and political life, the pos- 
sibility of their reception into the broth- 
erhood of nations — more discordant opin- 
ions than have been expressed on such 
points as these, even by the well inform- 
ed, it would not be eo^y to find put forth 
upon any other similar subject." 

The history of China is remarkable, 
and presents an unparalleled spectacle 
of stability, and of the conservative pow- 
er within the empire, that has been want- 
ing everyichere else. What has thus pre- 
served the integrity of that nation, while 
all others have undergone such changes, 
and many of the greatest empires of the 
world have commenced their being, cul- 
minated and passed away ? " China was 
one people and kingdom a thousand years 
before that dire and half mythical period 
when the Greek heroes led their follow- 
ers to the siege of Troy, and it has main- 
tained ever since, unbroken, the identity 
of its language, its national character, 
and its institutions." Four thousand 
years have rolled away since we have 
credible evidence that the Chinese nation 
was in existence, and what rising and 



176 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



falling of domiDioiui have been witaessed 
in other parts of the earth, within that 
period ? 

Kong-fut-se or Confucius, as is well 
known, is the sage whose influenoe has 
been all powerful over this nation in 
forming their character and affecting 
their destiny. No other man has ever 
lived who has stamped his impress more 
extensively on others of his race. He 
was born in the year 551 B. C, and died 
B. C. 479, aged seventy-three. More 
than six hundred temples exist where he 
is honored. Yee the Great, was the head 
of the earliest dynasty of which there are 
any authentic accounts, and he flourished 
about two thousand years B. C. He 
dammed the furious Great Yellow River, 
the Hoang-ho, and rescued its immense 
and fertile valley, still the richest and 
most populous part of the empire, from 
inundation and waste, and commemora- 
ted his work by an inscription cut on the 
face of a mountain overlooking the val- 
ley. The Chinese people were at that 
far distant period essentially the same that 
they have ever since remained. About 
225 B. C, lived Chi-hoang-ti, a great 
warrior and statesman, and one of the 
most remarkable characters that ever ex- 
isted in China. He vastly extended the 
area of the empire, chased the Huns 
across the frontier, and built the Great 
Wall, one of the wonders of the world. 
This astonishing work traverses high 
mountains, deep valleys, and by means 
of arches, wide rivers, extending a dist- 
ance of fifteen hundred miles I The 
foundation and corners are of granite, 
but the principal part is of blue bricks, 
cemented with pure white mortar. At 
intervals of about two hundred paces, are 
erected square towers, or bulwarks. 

About the year 588 A. D. the art of 
printing from wooden blocks was intro- 
duced. Following this was a period of 
great prosperity and peace, when art and 
literature attained high perfection, and 



the celebrated Chinese Academy was 
founded. ''During the reign of Tong," 
about this period, says Prof. Whitney, 
" China was probably the most enlight- 
ened and happy country on the face of 
the earth." 

In 1279, Keeblai Khan, grandson of 
the celebrated Genghis Khan, became 
the first emperor of the Mongol Dynasty, 
caUed Tuen. " From hiv throne in Pekin, 
he swayed the affairs of all the countries 
from the eastern seas to the very borders 
of Germany. He was sovereign of the 
most enormous empire the world has ever 
seen. Keeblai Khan reformed abusee, 
excuted great public works, and under 
him, literature wonderfully flourished. 
The Grand Canal is a monument of bis 
wise and public spirited policy." This 
is fourteen hundred miles long, forming 
a water communication between Pekin 
and Canton. But it was not our object 
to sketch the history of the Chinese na- 
tion, but simply to allude to some cir- 
cumstances and events, which might 
serve to remind our readers that they are 
not to judge of China and the Chinese by 
the immigrants that find their way to our 
shores. 

The population of the empire has been 
variously estimated at from two hundred 
and fifty to four hundred millions^ the 
latter being probably nearest the truth. 
In fact, some official documents discover- 
ed by the English, demonstrate that this 
last named number is beneath rather 
than above the truth. Of course, the 
support of so immense a population, im- 
plies and demandti that agriculture and 
horticulture be carried to high perfect- 
ion, and such is the fact in China. The 
government confers great honor upon 
agriculture, and once each year, the £m- 
peror goes forth into the field in state, 
and performs ceremonies and invokes the 
blessing of heaven upon the land, and the 
high priest of the empire offers up sacri- 
fices. 



CHINADOM IN CALIFORNIA. 



17T 



Th« prinoipal prodaction is rice, but | 
wbeat And other grains are grown, as well 
•a jams, potatoes, fto. ETen the steepest 
hills are bnraght into cultiyation, and 
artificially watered. The manner in which 
the dwellings of the peasantry ai« situa- 
ted, not being coUeoted into Tillages, but 
scattered through the country, contrib- 
ntaa greatly to the flourishing state of 
agrieultare. There are no fences, nor 
nor any sort of prcTentives against 
beasts or thieyes. The women raise 
silk worms, and spin cotton, and manu- 
fiietnre woolen stuffs, being the only 
The Chinese hare all the do- 
animals of Europe and America. 
The camel is the beast of burden. Poul- 
try abounds. The revenue is $150,000,- 
000, and the army consists of 900,000 



Tbe Chinese, as we have already sud, 
pay a kind of religious homage to their 
aaeeetors, and perform ceremonies around 
their tombs. " Ancestral worship,'' says 
IVof. Whitney, "has nowhere attained 
to such prominence as a part of the na- 
tiosal religion, as in China ; it even con- 
stitated, and still constitutes, almost the 
only religions obserrance of the common 
people, and which nothing has been able 
to displaee. Every family has its anceir- 
tral altar ; with the rich, this has a tefk- 
rate building allotted to it; with the 
poorer, it occupies a room, a closet, a 
eoraer, a shelf. There the commemora- 
tive tablets are set up, and there, at ap- 
pelated times, are presented offerings of 
■Mats, fruits, flowers, apparel, money. 
Distinguished philosophers and states- 
men, patriots, who have given their lives 
Car their country, are in a manner canon- 
ised* by having their memorial tablets 
remoTcd from the privity of the family 
maasioii, set up in public temples, and 
heooted with official worship." Of this 
diaraeter is the homage paid to the great 
whose image graces the Chinese 

iple in this city* 



Infanticide has been charged upon the 
Chinese, as a national and authoriied 
practice, but without foundation. A cor- 
respondent of the N. F. ObMTver, writing 
from Pekin, says : 

"The 'dead wagon' still continues to 
frequent the streets of Pekin, and I have 
seen them every morning proceeding at 
a slow pace through the two nrinoipal 
streete of the capital, and bacK again. 
Every one may throw his dead child into 
the wa^n, without mentioning from 
whence it comes, or whose it is; he only 
pays a small copper coin to the driver. 
The corpse must, however, be either wrap- 
ped in a mat, or laid in a coffin, else it is 
not received. These wagons were, when- 
ever I met them on their way back, filled 
up to the brim with small bundles and 
coffins, out of which often peeped the 
little hands or feet of tLe departed child- 
ren. This is the earb in which Chinese 
charity appears. The cart with corpses 
thus collect^, passed through the south- 
west suburbs of Pekin, where a place 
with a temple is fixed for their reception, 
and where they are deposited, until there 
is a sufficient number for interring them. 
When this is the case, the^ open a large 
hole, into which the coffins and other 
combustibles, together with the corpses, 
are thrown, burnt, and then covered over, 
whilst a Buddhist priest reads the cus- 
tomarv prayers for the dead. This prao- 
tice of collecting the dead children is said 
to have commenced on the occasion of a 
small pox epidemic, during the reign of 
Kienlung, when so many children died, 
that the parente threw them into the 
streets, so that the police were obliged to 
collect and bury them. According to our 
religious notions, this may appear cruel 
on tne part of the parente. Tne Chinese, 
however, have a different opinion of it ; 
the human soul, is, according to their no- 
tions, not yet perfect before the eighth 
year, — therefore, children under that age 
are never buried in family cemeteries. 

"Roman Catholic missionaries have 
concluded from this, and circulated in 
Europe, that infanticide was permitted 
in China. Infanticide is prohibited by 
law, and is punished like any other mur- 
der ; even intentional abortions are vi^ 
ited with corporal punishment* If, there- 
fore, among the cnildren thus collected, 
there are some who died a violent death, 
this would only prove that thoee who 



ns 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



eommitted the murder, did it either from 
shame, or ^risbed, from crimiDal motiTes, 
to conceal the child's birth. True it is, 
the police never inspect the children 
brought to be buried ; just as little do 
they ask those who bring them from 
whence they come; hence it is very prob- 
able that the carts carry many murdered 
children out of the city." 

In conclusion, we repeat, it is totally 
unjust to judge of the Chinese nation by 
the specimens which are afforded us 
among those who immigrate to this re- 
gion. They are generally from the sea- 
board cities, where there is the most 
degeneracy and degradation, and where 
the native character is most altered for 
the worse by foreign trade and piracy. 

Those who have known the Chinese 
most thoroughly, (the Christian mission- 
aries and others,) by continued, wide 
extended, and familiar intercourse, are 
generally those whose opinion of them is 
most favorable. 



TUE MERRIMAC. 



1.' 

Gently flowing. 

Brightly glowing, 
fiyer onii^rd, proudly free-* 

Fair isles darkling. 

Bright waves sparkling — 
Sparkling towards the waiting sea. 

II. 

Dark woods blooming, 

Sweet Tales blooming, 
Mirrored as by crystal clear; 

Wild birds singing. 

Echoes ringing — 
Ringing on the list'ning ear. 

III. 

Evening coming, 

Insects humming. 
Shadows falling through the air ; 

Zephyrs courting. 

Naiads sporting — 
Sporting on the billows fair. 



IV. 



Sunset glowing, 

Breeses blowing. 
Ripples breaking on the shore ; 

Night invading, 

Daylight fading — 
Fading as forever more. 

T. 

Sounds retreating. 

Night-hours fleeting, 
Rest descending from on high ; 

Dew-drops falling. 

Softly calling. 
Fragrance from the azure sky. 

TI. 

Stars outshining, 

Rays combining. 
Morning darting from above ; 

Pure thoughts swelling. 

Ever telling — 
Telling of a boundless Love I 

TII. 

Thus my dreaming. 

Ever teeming 
Is, with thoughts, fair stream, of thee; 

Wild joy blending. 

Upward sending. 
Thanks to God that tbov art free I 



LBGEND OF THE TURNIP-COUNTER. 
Translated fr<nn the German^ 

BT r. r. JOHNSON. 

[Concluded from page 137.] 

Aftkr he had left the princess, she 
did not delay a moment to try the magio 
rod according to her instructions. "Brin- 
hild," she cried, "dear Brinhild, appear," 
when, lo! Brindhild was at her feet, em- 
bracing her knees, shedding tears of joj, 
and lavishing caresses upon her as in 
former days. So complete was the illu- 
sion, that Miss Emma could not tell what 
to think of this, her own creation, wheth- 
er or not it was Brinhild herself, that 



LEGEND OF THE TURNIP-COUNTER. 



179 



An bad eoDJored to her, or only a mock- 
«rj of her senses. In the meantime she 
gave herself ap to the pleasures of social 
ioterocmrse with her pet companion, tak- 
ini; a walk with her, hand in hand, 
through the garden, enjoying her admir- 
ing ejaealations, and presenting her with 
the gold-spotted apples from their re- 
•peetire trees. The princess next show- 
ed her friend the rooms of the palace. 
In the wardrohe, the female spirit of 
eon tern plation became exercised to such 
a degree that they remained there until 
snneet. Veils, girdles, and pendants, 
with all the re^t, were mustered and tried 
on in soccession. Brinhild evinced such 
a pleasing manner and exquisite taste, 
in the selection and arrangement of the 
toilet, that if only a turnip, naturally, 
the nevertheless was the queen of her 



The enjoying gnome felt delighted, in 
haring fathomed the mysteries of wo- 
man's heart so well, and at having made 
saeh happy progress in his knowledge of 
anthropology. The lovely Emma seemed 
to him more beautiful, mure affable, more 
cheerful now, than ever before. The 
whole stock of turnips, under her magic 
tooeh, tnmed out and brought to her the 
lasses who had formerly acted as her 
haadmatds; and from two remaining 
tomips^rang up a gentle Cyprian cat 
and a pretty lap-dog. She opened her 
eoorl again, when each of her maids 
performed their special duties as of yore, 
aad never was a noble lady better served. 
Her wishes were anticipated ; her nods 
and winks obeyed, and her commands 
promptly executed. Far several weeks 
a social entertainment was kept up of 
daaeinf^ *obS^* ^^^ music, in the harem 
ef the gnome, from morning until night, 
when the mistress perceived that the 
healthy oolored oheeks of her eompan- 
ioQS were waning, and the mirror in the 
marble saloon notified her that hereelf, 
an opening rose-bud among 



the dying flowers, to which her dear 
Brinhild, and the rest of the maids, 
might well be compared. Every one, 
however, pretended to be in excellent 
health; beside?, the generous gnome 
kept a splendid table at his establish- 
ment. Yet, the girls faded more and 
more; life and activity vanished, and 
the fire of youth burnt low. On a beau- 
tiful morning, after a healthy night's rest, 
the princess entered the drawing room ; 
her horror may be imagined at receiving 
the salutation of a number of wrinkled 
old crones, who supported themselves by 
sticks and crutches, while being suffo* 
cated witli a consumptive cough. The 
Cyprian cat lacked power to move about, 
and Beni, the lap-dog, had stretched out 
his four legs. Terrified at such a spectap 
cle, the princess hastened from the room, 
stepped out upon the balcony, and loudly 
called on the gnome, who quickly attend- 
ed the summons and stood before her in 
deep humility. 

" Mischievous spirit/' she said, in an- 
ger, ** why dost thou delight in spoiling 
the only pleasure of my harmless life, 
satisfied, as I am, in keeping the shadows 
of my former companions about mef Is 
the surrounding solitude not enough to 
torment me, or is it necessary for thy 
sport to make this plaee a hospital? 
Without delay give back my lasses' youth 
and beauty, or my hate and contempt 
shall revenge the outrage." 

"Glorious daughter of earth," the 
gnome pleaded, " thy anger ought not to 
be without measure. All in my power 
is at thy disposal ; yet crave not that 
which is impossible. The powers of 
nature serve me, although I am nnable 
to change their immutable laws. While 
ihe turnips possessed vegetable strength, 
thy magic rod could produce from them 
any form thy fancy chose; but now» 
when the juice they contained has dried 
up, they aro going to decay, because the 
life-retaining power of the composing ele- 



y» 



wrwrmrwc^ r %TTwrmwr 9. wi.^mTntw 




It iw 

^TbMi kMt dceeired i 

k9or I Imv# looked lor it n 

^KttMi MrtrcM of sy bcvt,'' tbe 
Opirii — oworody **o «eqio ly icdioeretiop, 
io ftfonunsg »off« tbao I eovld i^re. I 
Im? • wMMUrod all oror tbo ooaatiy in 
ioareb of frMb Umnpt^ bvi loog nnee 
tfa«f woro gftlborad. Mid an bow wither- 
faig is maotj eotbn. Katart ia now 
dfOMtod in BBOorniBg; wtntor ia in the 
f alley below^ and jonr y r eae nce only hae 
ebained apring to theae rocka, where 
flower* apriog op beneath yovLt fooUtepa. 
Only bare patience nntil the moon baa 
gone through her erolotiooi thrice, and 
never ahall yon again be dieappointed in 
playing with yoor dolla/' 

The gnome had not flobhed, before the 
pouting beauty turned on him her heela, 
went into a oloaet^ without deigning a 
reply* while he atarted off for the near- 
eat market'town ; and there, under the 
gttiae of a farmer^ bought an aaf, who 
oarried on bit back feveral aaoka of aeed; 



For an thn— inil 



the 
being able to 
J tbe beait of Cauna by tbe 
little attrntinoa be bestowed on 
lacr. yererlhi If ai bia patiawcedid not 
jgiTe ont or weary in tbe atteaapt of 
: dnrnging ber pradiabncaa in bia &Tor. 
Hia inexpcricnee in lore a&iia made him 
bdiere tbe troable be eneoontered, might 
belong naturally to rooiancea treatiRg on 
saeb anbjecta ; beridet, be pcrcmred Tery 
nicely and aagaeioaaly that tbe reaiat- 
anee bia ardor encountered, was not with- 
out a certain pleaauie, well calculated to 
sweeten the reward of all bis constancy. 
Tet this norice in anthropology miatook 
the true reason for tbe obetinacy of bis 
mistress, in taking it for granted, that 
ber affections were disengaged, and tbe 
unclaimed lot of her heart belonged to 
him as the first squatter. 

Alas I this was a fatal mistake. A 
neighbor of his, residing on the banka of 
the Oder, the duke Ratibor, had been a 
favored suitor; he appropriated to him* 
seif Emma's first lore, which, if report 
speaks oorreotly, is indestructible^ like 



LEGEND OF THE TnRNIP-<X)nKTER. 



181 



the foandAiioaof the four elements. The 
iMtppy eoople looked forward to the day 
of th«ir union, when the bride disappear^ 
•d. The terrible news changed the gen- 
tle Batibor into a furious Roland. He 
deserted his residence, turned misan- 
thrope^ went into the forest, complained 
to the rocks about his misfortune, and 
coounitted all the pranks of our fashion- 
able heroes, if the malicious Amon plays 
on them his pranks. The faithful Emma 
Agfaed with her secret grief in her de- 
Ugbtfol prison, yet still guarded her se- 
cret too well for the gnome to account for 
U. Long since she had made it her study 
to outwit him, in some way that she might 
escape from her prison. After many 
sleepless nights, she had contrived a plan 
worthy of an experiment. 

Springretumed to the mountain glens ; 
the sobterranean fire in the conserratory 
ef the gnome became extinct, and the 
TOgetable erop, unscathed by the seTcrity 
of winter, attained its maturity. Emma 
sljly extracted sereral every day, and 
tried experiments every day for her amuse- 
aaenty as it seemed, although her inten- 
tion went much further. Once she pro- 
doeed a bee from a little turnip, and sent 
her off, to gain information from her 
knight 

**I1y, little insect t fly towards the 
east," she spake—" to Ratibor, the chief- 
tsia of the country, and murmur sofUy 
into his ear, his Emma is alive yet, but 
slave of the goblin, who reigns over these 
Bioantains. Don't lose a word of my 
sslofiation, and bring back news of his 
love." The bee flew from the finger of 
the ledy» on its errand, when a greedy 
swallow picked off the messenger, stuffed 
with soch satisfactory dispatohes. By 
the oee of the magie wand she formed a 
crieket* aext teaching it a similar sen- 
Isnee^ and greeting for her lover: "Jump, 
Gttle erioketl over the mountains, to 
Ratibor, the chieftain^ and chirp in his 
\ the faithful Emma expects to throw 



off her golden chains by the help of his 
strong arm." The cricket went on its 
way with speed, but a long legged stork, 
who was walking along the high road on 
which the former was traveling, took 
hold of it with his long bill, and buried 
it in the dungeon of his capacious craw. 

The strong-minded girl, nothing daunt- 
ed, transformed the third turnip into a 
magpie. *' Flutter from tree to tree, talk- 
ative bird, till thou enoounterest Ratibor, 
my betrothed ; acquaint him of my cap- 
tivity, and give him noUce to wait for 
me, with steed and men, on the third day 
from now, beyond the boundary line of 
the mountains girting Marienthal ; there 
he may give the fugitive help and protect- 
ion." The bird knew her duty ; she flitted 
onward, while Emma followed her with 
her eye till out of sight. The unhappy Rati- 
bor strayed about the forest quite dejected; 
the arrival of spring and the activity of 
nature had only strengthened hb grief. 
He sat under a shady oak, thought only 
of, and sighed loudly for, Emma! The 
echo retorted in flattering syllables ; but 
at the same time, an unknown voice call- 
ed out his own name. Listening, he con- 
sidered it an illusion, when he heard the 
call repeated. At that moment he per- 
ceived the magpie fluttering in the 
boughs overhead, and understood it to 
be the intelligent bind, calling his name. 
•* Wily prattler! " he caUed out—" how 
didst thou learn the name of a miserable 
being, wishing only to become annihilar 
ted, without leaving a vestige behind 
him T " Enraged, he picked up a stone, 
to cast it at the bird, when she sounded 
the name of Emma. This was «i tolls- 
man, weakening bis uplifted arms, he 
trembled with excitement, and in his soul 
it sounded soflly, Emma 1 

Perohed upon the tree, the speaker, 
with the eloquence belonging to her 
species, delivered herself of her lesson* 
Ratibor listened to the happy message, 
iight broke in upon him; the terrible 



182 



HUTCniNGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



grief beclouding his senses and unstring- 
ing bis nerves, Tanished ; once more he 
found sensibility and recollection, and 
tried to gain some news in regard to the 
fate of Emma, although the gabbler did 
not know any more, but soon took her 
flight. The duke sought, with long strides 
his home, armed his horsemen, and went 
with his troops, for the cape of his good 
hope, to brave the adventures before him. 
In the mean time. Miss Emma prepared 
every thing for the execution of her 
scheme. She did not torment the patient 
gnome any longer by her indifference ; 
her eyes sparkled hope, and her coyness 
grew more pliant. Such happy signs a 
sighing swain is not slow to improve; 
and the keen senses of the spiritual 
adorer soon became aware of the revolu- 
tion going on; for a gracious look, a 
friendly gesture, a significant smile be- 
stowed, was oil dropped into the flame, 
or electric sparks upon alcohol. Embold- 
ened, he paid his court anew, having sued 
long in vain without being discarded. 
The preliminaries were as good as sign- 
ed, only the young lady required a few 
days to consider, for the sake of decorum ; 
those, the happiest of goblins, willingly 
granted. 

Early the following morning, the beau- 
tiful Emma wentforth, adorned as a bride, 
with all the jewels her casket contained. 
Her light brown hair was twisted in a 
knot behind, and was set off to advantage, 
by a crown of myrtle ; the trimming of 
her robe sparkled with diamonds, and 
when the gnome, already in waiting, 
hastened to pay her his homage, she 
modestly covered her blushing face with 
the end of her veil. " Heavenly maiden V 
he stammered, " grant me the favor to 
read my blessedness from thy eyes I" 
He attempted to> uncover her face, to con- 
vince himself of his final success ; not 
daring to extort from her a verbal ac- 
knowledgment of his suit. The lady 
however, veiled herself more olosely, 



answering modestly, " Can a mortal 
sist you, love of my heart ? Tour con- 
stancy has gained its object ; only, in re- 
ceiving such a confession from my lips, 
l<»t my blushes and my tears become cot- 
ered with a veil." '* Why tears, oh dear^ 
est ? " the spirit asked ; '* every tear of 
yours falls like a burning drop of naptha 
upon my heart. I only ask a return of 
my love ; but no sacrifice." ** Oh I wb j 
misconstrue my tears?" Emma replied, 
** My heart repays your tenderness ; even 
if dark forebodings harrass my mind. A 
wife preserves not always the attractions 
of a bride ; age never will affect you ; 
while beauty is only a flower of short du- 
ration. How shall I convince myself that 
in the bridegroom I may behold the same 
affectionate, kind, considerate and abid- 
ing husband?" The visitor asked: '*Ask 
for a proof of my faithfulness and obed- 
ience in the performance of thy com- 
mands, or put my patience to the test, 
and judge by these of the strength of my 
unalterable passion." "Beit sol" the 
cunning Emma decreed. *' I ask a single 
proof only in my favor. Go count the 
turnips upon the field ; my wedding feast 
shall not be without witnesses ; in giving 
to them animation, they will act as my 
bridemaids; yet, be careful in not de- 
ceiving me, and make no mistake in their 
number; because such shall be the evi- 
dence of thy immutability I " 

Although the gnome went on his er- 
rand with reluctance, he nevertheless 
obeyed without delay, and jumped among 
the turnips with the same alacrity that a 
French physician of a lazaretto evinces 
at the contemplation of the number of 
sick his expediency brings to the grav^ 
yard. Soon, by his seal, he had summed 
up the total amount ; when, to be cer- 
tain, the counting was repeated, buk, 
with chagrin, he found a variation of 
one, in comparison with his first experi- 
ment The third attempt differed again, 
from the former two; although it is not 



LEGEND OF THE TURNIP-COUNTER. 



18S 



wffy ttraoge, after all, Bince a pretty 
female face will bring confasion into the 
ablest mathematical cranium. 

Ko eooner was this faithful subject of 
the crafty Emma out of sight, than her 
preparations for flight commenced. A 
lar^ge succulent turnip changed its veget- 
able body to that of a noble steed, sad- 
dled and bridled ; quickly the enchant- 
reae was mounted, galloping over the 
heath and desirt of the desolate hills, on 
the back of the speeding pegasus, down 
to the Harieathal, and gladly throwing 
hmei f in the arms of Prince Ratibor, 
who anxiously awaited her coming. 

So fkt the busy gnome had dived into 
the chaos of numbers, as to take no more 
notiee of passing events around him, 
than the calculating Newton did of the 
noisy trumpet under his window, in cele- 
bration of the battle at Blenheim. He 
had been able at last, after many fruit- 
lasa experiments, to make out a correct 
list of all the vegetables, large and small, 
the acre contained. Happy, he returned 
to give his intended ^ practical illustra- 
tion of his turning out the most gallant 
and obedient husband, the imagination 
and caprice of a wife ever made herself 
esbscnrient to. Complacent he reached 
the tart, without finding what he sought 
fiir; neither did he behold the deaired 
el^eel in the eovered bowers and garden 
walks ; into every nook and comer of the 
palace he sounded the name of Emma, 
bat the only answer he received was the 
echo of the deserted halls. He grew 
weary; and finding something to be 
wrong, he threw off without delay the 
damsy phantom of a body, arose high up 
into the air, and discovered his beloved 
fogitive in the distance, her noble horse 
deari^g the limits of his district Mad- 
dened, the furious spirit eompassed a few 
dondfl, peacefully passing by, and hurled 
a fineh of lightning after the runaway, 
only BpUtLiDg an oak of a thousand years' 
■laa<^S> lor, beyond the territorial line, 



the revenge of the gnome proved harm- 
less, and the thunder-cloud dissolved into 
a damp fog. 

In despair he cruised through the up» 
per regions, and complained of his blight- 
ed love to the four winds, until the vio- 
lence of his passion had settled down, 
when he returned once more to his palace, 
and when his sighs and groans vented 
themselves undisturbed between the 
walls. He lingered in the garden, but 
the enchantment had lost its glory; a 
single footprint of her, the faithless, left 
in the sand, attracted bis attention more 
than the golden apples and other curiosi- 
ties. Sweet remembrances turned up 
everywhere on the soil, where formerly 
she passed, from which she had gathered 
flowers ; in the places where he had 
watched her sometimes unperceived, or 
held such delightful conversations ; all 
this depressed him to such a degree, as 
to throw him into the direst condition. 
By degrees his ill humor found vent in 
horrible imprecations as an offset to his 
stately parentation on "love's disguises/' 
and he solemnly affirmed, to discard the 
study of mankind, and take no further 
notice of such a wicked and deceitful 
race. Twice he stamped upon the ground, 
and the magic palace, with all its splen- 
dor, turned back into its original noth- 
ingness. The abyss opened its dark 
jaws, the gnome precipitated himself 
into the pit, turning up at the other side 
of his dominion, in the center of our 
globe, where his spleen and hate of man- 
kind followed him. 

Prince Ratibor, at the catastrophe des- 
cribed, had secured the matchless booty 
of his fiUibusterism. He conducted the 
beautiful Emma, in very triumphant 
pomp, back to the court of her father, 
there celebrated his nuptials, divided 
with her his crown, and built the town 
Ratibor, bearing his name unto this day. 
The wonderful adventure of the princess, 
encountered by her on the Riesengebirge; 



184 



HUTCHINOS' CALIFORNIA BCAGAZINX. 



her bold flight, and happy e8oape» be- 
oame the talk of the land ; and has been 
preserved from one gei^eration to another, 
up to the latest times ; for the ladies of 



Selesian, with many of their neighbors 
both right and left, took great interest in 
the stratagem of the canning but success- 
ful Emma. 



«•» 



(^nt S^Bthl €\ut. 



&LTHOUGH human bipeds are some- 
times accused of entertaining them- 
selTes and others with *'a horse 
langh" — which we suppose must be a 
cachination that approximates to a neigh — 
man is said to be the only animal that in- 
dulges in a laugh ; and while we admit 
that the axiom may be true in its Tulgar 
interpretation, we must demur to it entire- 
ly, if it excludes all muscular action of the 
fiMse that is indicstiye of pleasure in other 
animals : For instance, if the fayorite dog 
meets his master, after a long absence, 
there is not only a wagging of the tail to 
manifest his delight, but a partial drawing 
out and up of the eye-brows, and a general 
relaxing of the muscles of the face, espe- 
cially about the eyes, almost in the same 
manner, yet of course, not to the same ex- 
tent, as in a human face. It is thus with 
the horse, which, instead of wagging his 
tail to indicate his pleasure, as in the dog, 
lays down his ears and moves them now a 
little on this side and now on that, while 
the muscular action of the face is subject 
to a similar relaxation and expansion to 
that of the dog. Besides, dogs scowl, like 
some men, and if they can manifest their 
arersion, why not their delight also ? We 
all know that nearly all kinds of animals 
bavo their time of sport and their method 
of playing ; and while engaged in these, 
the close observer may discover a variety 
•f changes in the muscles of the face. 

We have been led into these reflections 
by an extract from an interesting work en- 
titled the <• Passions of Animals," which 
we here give as suggestive of enquiry, with 
an excellent hint that the love of " Fan" is 
not confined to the genas hamQ, 



8msll birds chase each other about ia 
play, bat perbaps the conduct of the crane 
and trumpeter is the most extraordinary. 
The latter stands on one leg, hops about 
in the most eccentric manner and throws 
somersets. The Americans call it the mud 
bird on account of these singularities. 
Water birds, such as ducks and geese, dive 
after each other, and clear the surface of 
the water with outstretched necks and flap* 
ping wingSf throwing an abundant spray 
around. Deer often engage in sham battles 
or trials of strength, by twisting their horns 
together, and pushing for mastery. 

The animals pretending to violence in 
their play, stop short of exercising it ; the 
dog takes great precaution not to injure by 
his bite; and the ourang outang, in wrest- 
ling with his keeper, pretends to throw 
him, and makes feints of biting him. Some 
animals carry out in their play the semb- 
lance of catching their prey ; young cats, 
for instance, leap after every small and 
moving object, even to the leaves strewed 
by the autumn wind ; they crouch and steal 
forward ready for the spring, the body 
quivering and the tail vibrating with emo- 
tion, they bound on the moving leaf, and 
spring forward to another. Beogger saw 
young jaguars and cougars playing with 
round substances, like kittens. Birds of 
the magpie kind are analogous of monkeys, 
full of mischief, play and mimicry. There 
is a story of a tame magpie that was seen 
busily employed in a garden gathering 
pebbles, and with much solemnity and a 
studied air, buried them in a hole made to 
receive a post. After dropping each stone 
it cried *currackf' triumphantly, and set 
off for another. On examining this spot, a 
poor toad was found in this hole, which 
the magpie was stoning for his amuse- 
ment. 



If the reader does not wish to langh, let 

him skip the following, from the Clinton 

Ccurani: 

Jem B is a wag. A joke to Jem, is 

both food and raiment ; and whenever and 



OUR SOCIAL CEAIR. 



185 



vhercTer there ia an opening for fan, he 
hAs it. 

Jem WM recentlj in a drug store, when 
a Toath, apparent!/ fresh from the ** moun- 
'w^lCS" entered the store, and at once ac- 
costed Jem, stating that he was in search 
of ft job. 

- What kind of a job ? " inquired the 



^ Oh, a'most anything— I want to git a 
kind of a ginteel job; I'm tired o' farmin', 
an' kin turn mj band to most any thin\" 

•* Well, we want a man ; a good, strong, 
healthy man, as sample clerk." 

•* Whftt'a the wages ? " 

" Wages are good; we pay $1,000 to a 
Ban in that situation." 

" What's a feller haTe to do ? " 

**0h, merely to test medicines; that's 
alL It requires a stout man— one of good 
constitution ; and after he gets used to it, 
he dosen't mind it You see, we are very 
particnUr about the quality of our medi- 
cines, and before we sell any, we test every 
parceL You would be required to take — 
say six or seven ounces of castor oil, some 
days, with a few doses of rhubarb, aloes, 
CnHon oil, and similar preparations. Some 
days you would not be required to take 
anytbiag ; but, as a general thing, you can 
count opon — say from six to ten doses of 
something daily. As to the work, that does 
not amount to much — the testing depart- 
■^ai would be the principal labor required 
of yoo ; and, as I said before, it requires a 
person of very healthy organization to en- 
dure it; but yon look hearty, and I guess 
you would suit us. That young man, 
I pointing to a rtrj pale faced, slim look- 
ing youth, who happened to be present,) 
has filled the post for the past two weeks, 
bat he is hardly stout enough to stand it. 
We should like to have you take right hold 
if you are ready, and, if you say so, we'll 
begin to-day ; here's a new barrel of cas- 
tor oU, just come to, I'll go and draw an 
ounce — ** 

(Here verdant, who had been gasing in- 
teoUy upon the slim youth, interrupted 
kia with — ) 

" N-no, no ; I g-o-e-ss not— not to-day, 
any how. V\\ go down and see my aunt, 
*u' ef I e'nclnde to come, I'll let you 
know." ' 

As he did not return, it is to be supposed 
he considered the work too hard. 

The following, ( not o/together from 
Pope.) has been "gotten up," « without 
«g»rd to cost," but, " at a heavy expense," 
to express the condition and sentimentt of 
t^ Diggv ftborigines of this oountry : 



Lo ! the poor Indian, who, untutored, feeds 
On locusts, beetles, frogs, and centipedes I 
His taste keen hunger never taught to sigh 
For beef, veal, mutton, pork or pumpkin pie! 
But thinks, admitted to that equal feast. 
All things are good for man, as wellas beastl 

Or, in other words, " White man's beep 
(beef,) beeskit (biscuit,) and wheeskey, 
belly (very) good for chemuck. Heep 
wano. Grass-hoppers, acorns, mucho malo 
— Injun man no caree." 



As the Yo-Semite Valley seems to be the 
great point of attraction to parties recreat- 
ing, it may not be amiss to give, from the 
the Mariposa Star, the following amusing 
list of provisions that four persons deemed 
necessary on such a trip ! — 

A party recently left Joe's store at Mor- 
mop Bar for the Valley, and a friend of the 
Star furnishes the following statistics — 
showing the amount of '^ the necessaries of 
life " which is required for an eight day's 
trip in the mountains : 

8 lbs potatoes. 

1 bottle whisky. 

1 bottle pepper sauce. 

1 bottle whisky. 

1 box tea. 

9 lbs onions. 

2 bottles whisky. 
1 ham. 

11 lbs crackers. 
1 bottle whisky. 
i doz. sardines, 
a bottles brandy, (4th proof.) 

6 lbs sugar. 

1 bottle brandy, (4th proof.) 

7 lbs cheese. 

2 bottles brandy, (4th proof ) 
1 bottle pepper. 

6 gallons whisky. 
4 bottles whisky (old Bourbon.) 
1 small keg whisky. 
1 bottlr of cooktii'.: Mcstgned for ft 
"bUirUr. 'f 

The part > }»r-jo-« cd as fhr as Sebasta* 
pol, (about ivfo miles,) and halted to resi 
under a tree. They were there met by a 
teamster, who took the following message 
to the Bar. " Tell * Sam ' that we are all 
right— have got all the provisloM we want 
—our pack animals are doing well — wa 
will return in eight days. About the sixth 
we will be at the South Fork, on our way 
home. Tell him to tty and meet us there 
with some vAtsAy, say about two gallons, 
just enough to latt ns hooM. Ono of oor 
kegs (sail." 



186 



nUTCniNGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



The followiog capital retort will assert 
Its own claim to jiun-gency, and pro?e to 
be well worth the reading : 

We saw a good thing yesterday. In the 
Court of Quarter Sessions, a petty case 
was being tried. A well-known criminal 
lawyer, who prides himself upon his skill 
in cross-examining a witness, had an odd- 
looking genius upon whom to operate. 
The witness was a boss shoemaker. 

**Yoa say, sir, that the prisoner ii a 
thief?" 

" Yes, sir ; cause why, she confessed it." 

"And you also swear she bound shoes 
for you subsequent to the confession ? " 

" 1 do, sir." . 

'* Then " — giving a sagacious look at the 
Court— '^ we are to understand that you 
employ dishonest people to work for you, 
even after their rascalities are known?" 

*' Of course ; how else could I get as- 
sistance from a lawyer 7 " 

The counselor said "stand aside," ^nd 
in a tone which showed that if he had the 
witness' head in a bark-mill, little mercy 
might have been expected ; the judge near- 
ly choked himself in a futile endeavor to 
make the spectators believe that a laugh 
was nothing but a hiccough, while the wit- 
ness stepped off the stand with all the 
gravity of a fashionable undertaker. 

Not much made out of that witness 1 



In the annexed clipping from the Mari- 
posa Gazette^ an off-hand picture of Horace 
Greeley is given while visiting the valley 
of water-falls, and groves of mammoth 
trees, in company with the editor of that 
paper, and which will be found worth a 
dozen " dressed up " ones of that famous 
Individual : 

Hon. Horace Greeley left Col. Fremont's 
residence, in Bear River Valley, Thursday 
morning of last week, and reached Yo- 
Semite Valley the same night. He return- 
ed via the Big Tree Grove, which is a dis- 
tance of ten miles [there and back] from 
the Yo Semite trail, reaching Bear Valley 
on Saturday night. 

From Mariposa the party were absent 
fifly-five hours, fourteen hours«being spent 
in the Valley. This is much the quickest 
trip ever made. Horace, though not by any 
means an elegant equestrian, possesses two 
important qualifications for making good 
time. He sticks to the saddle, or in other 
words, "hangs on to the crupper" with 
one baud, and "goes it" — shaking all over 
like ft jelly. He would not, after this fa- 
tigning trip was over, own up to sorenessi 



as it affected his honor, though we gravely 
suspect the teat of it was somewhat dam- 
aged, for at these times he evidently was 
seriously considering his latter end. He 
was very eomp&nionable on the road, dis- 
coursing upon light and heavy subjects 
with easy bluntness, and naivett. There 
lis' considerable of a dry comical quality in 
bis composition, which unmisukably sticks 
out on suitable occasions. A peculiarity 
was noticeable in his manner of expressing 
wonder and admiration of the grand scen- 
ery of the Valley, Big Trees, &c. When 
anything remarkable appeared to view, he 
would break forth into whistling, which 
sounded like the wind blowing through a 
knot hole, or would roar on some " hime," 
or sort of pot pouri, in which all sorts of 
words and metres were beautifully inter- 
mingled, and set to most execrable music 
enough to charm the heart of a cat-bead 
owl. He had likewise learned to yell or 
howl in coming across the plains in a Dian- 
ner that would astonish any aborigine on 
this continent to a dead certainty. On one 
foot he wore a cotton sock, and on the 
other a woolen one. Boots, number 14, 
which not many years ago cost as much as 
$2,50. Pepper and salt pants, with the 
old white coat and hat completed his en- 
tire habiliments, the tout eruembU of which 
was very striking and antique. The old 
coat was much dilapidated, and pieces had 
been cut from it in sundry and divers 
places. The committee that met him at 
Placerville cut all the buttons off it but 
three, and the Yo Semite delegation got 
the rest with the most of its binding. 

Notwithstanding Mr. Greeley's evident 
weariness, he addressed the citisens of 
Mariposa, Saturday evening, at some length. 
The subject matter of his remarks were 
relative to the Pacific Railroad, and to 
matters of a local character — the Yo Sem- 
ite Valley, Big Tree Grove, &c. He was 
attentively listened to, and his remarks 
were well received. 

Mr. Greeley started Sunday afternoon 
from Bear Valley for San Francisco, at 
which city he will pass a few days, and 
then take up his route for the Atlantic 
States. 



The following amusing election item, 
from our spirited cotemporary, the San 
Francisco Morning Call^ will shew that the 
" Johns " are rapidly becoming interested 
in our " Melican " institutions : 

A STRA.HGI Voter.— At one of the pre- 
cincts a Chinaman presented himself yes- 
terday morning, dressed a la AmtrieaiWf 



OUR SOCIAL CnAIR. 



18T 



•Bd offered a "Native American" ticket 
■SfaigbC The inspectors, judges, and all 
bands commenced giggling and thought 
tbej would get a regular rip>roaring laugh 
OBt of the Amitricanized Celestial, so one 
of them asked him^ "John, how long have 
70« been in the country 7 " Says John, 
•• Seben year me lib here." " Well," said 
taother man, " where were you born, and 
what*s your name?" John turned his 
■ooo-eyes to the right and left, then half 
doaed hie peeper in a quizzical wny, and 
replied, " Mclican me — me name you 
vantche know?" "Yes," said another man. 
" Well,*' said John, as he turned to leave 
the crowd, "me name is. Yew Bet!*' John 
sloped rapidly, dodging an Irishman's boot 
which whizzed past his ear. 



Tbb following graphic picture, from tbe 
Saa Joaqnln R^ubHean, of the way-worn 
caigrBat, bo many of whom are now ar- 
riving BBMog us, we know will be read 
with pecaliar pleasure : 

It is qaite a novelty to one not used to it, 
to see bow much at home an emigrant 
family appear at night, when their wagpn 
is baited near a brook or well. The ani- 
Bials are taken ont, unharnessed, watered 
aad fed. The wife and mother, in the 
Beaa time, kindles a fire from the chips or 
braaches, which she is pretty sure to find 
abont the "camp." The children play 
afoBod, aad if any of them are large 
taoBgby they help father or mother, as the 
ease maj be. The tea or coffee is made, 
aad the omnipresent bacon is fried, the 
bread ia produced, and a more grateful 
•caJ is eaten than at any of our fashion- 
able restaurants, where all the luiuries of 
the day are set before the epicure. After 
iBpper there is a quiet talk, a little singing, 
perhaps, aad then the 'bed is made upon 
the wagOB, or, perhaps, npon the ground, 
aad all hands lay down to sleep as com- 
poiedly as if they were upon a bed of 
down, in a fine city brick house, taking 
care that their faithful friends, the horses 
er males, are proTioosIy well secured. In 
the BMming, fkther, mother, and the boys 
aad girls, are up with the sun. Father 
aad the boys, water, feed, and harness the 
animals, and mother and the girls get break- 
Cast. Tbie disposed of, all of the weaker 
Bwmbers of the party stow themselves in 
tae wagon, the sturdy boy mounts his 
horse and looks after the cows and loose 
stock, if there are any along, the husband 
aad father cracks his whip, whistles Yan* 
kee Doodle, and away they start for their 



We met a party of this kind on the 
French Camp road, on Sunday, while rid- 
ing out a few miles with a friend. We 
happened to have a quantity of fine grapes 
in the chaise, as we had called upon a 
gentleman before starting, upon whose 
vines the luscious fruit hangs in tons. 
They were a welome donation to the travel- 
worn family, trifling as may have been their 
value to a satiated Stocktonian. Had not 
the shadows of night settled, we should 
have been sorely tempted to have tried 
th^ir appetites with a second edition, pro- 
cured from town. If any of our citizens 
are puzzled to know what to do with their 
surplus fruii, this may be a useful hint to 
them. They will get a rich price for the 
luxury thus disposed of, one of these days. 

You are quite right, worthy confrere, A 

kind action, though unremembered by the 

receiver, meets with an immediate return 

to the donor ; besides, it may not be amiss 

to call to mind the words of the Divine 

Teacher: "It is better to give than to 



receive. 



tt 



The following choice fnoreeau^ from the 

Bay State J is so life-like and racy that we 

cannot resist the temptation of presenting 

it to the readers of the Chair : 

By the way, what is there so derogatory 
to dignity, as chasing a hat ? We saw a 
gentleman proceeding up street the other 
day in a most magnificent manner. A 
beautiful stove-pipe " Leanr," and an awful 
dignity sat on his brow. Had he been in 
the interior of Africa, he would have been 
set up for a deity, hat and all. The wind 
is no respecter to persons; it bloweth 
whithersoever itlisteth ; it caught beneath 
the well turned brim of the "Leary," — 
magnificence fielt it going and tried to pre- 
vent it with both hands. But 'twas gone. 
Away over curb-stones, gutters and pave- 
ments it flew, on crown and brim. Mag- 
nificence immediately gave chase. Did you 
ever see the grace with which a dignified 
individual tries to run 7 A sort of genteel 
skip and polished hop. Once or twice his 
hands were almost upon it; but fresh 
breezes wafled it away. At last it met a 
horse drawing a Job- wagon, dodged be- 
neath the animal's forefeet, striking plump 
into it With this novel shoe the beast 
made a few rods, when a vigorous kick 
sent it flying over the driver's head, and it 
fell into the street a misshapen thing, with 
a ventilator in it the size of a horse's hoof. 
Then it was that Magnificence stood f till 
and " cossed." 



188 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



C^e ^rama. 



8ome changes have taken place in this 
department since our last notice. Miss 
Avouia Jones has left for Australia. The 
Kew Orleans Opera Troupe concluded their 
engagement at Maguire's, and have been 
making a successful tour among the prin- 
cipal mining towns of the State. The Ital- 
ian Opera was revived at the American 
theatre for some three evenings, but owing 
to the lack of sufficient patronage, it was 
allowed to droop and die. Yet, on the 10th 
and 22d ult. complimentary benefits were 
given the principal artists,,Senor and Seno- 
ra Bianchi, at the American theatre, prior 
to their departure for Australia. 

The Nelson Troupe, consisting of the 
Misses Carrie and Sara Nelson, Mr. Alfred 
Nelson, and Mr. J. Simmonds, arrived here 
from Australia ; and, supported by Mr. and 
Mrs. Gourtaine, and a fair stock company, 
have been performing at Maguire's Opera 
House. They opened to rather thin houses, 
partly occasioned, no doubt, by the very 
bombastic advertisement of their mana- 
ger, Mr. Simmonds, which very naturally 
led people to suspect a lack of excellence 
in the troupe — but they have grown grad- 
ually into public favor, and which they cer- 
tainly very well deserve. At first, these 
ladies strikingly reminded us of the Misses 
Goughenheims, but their superior singing 
M well as acting. Soon convinced us that 
there the resemblance ended. 

The pieces chosen, for the most part, 
have been in elegant extravaganza; Miss 
Carrie personating some dashing and high- 
Bpirited young gentleman. In which char- 
acter her pretty face and good figure shew 
to excellent advantage, and with an easy 
grace of motion which is observable in 
every movement she may make, throws a 
charm upon her audience. Miss Sara has 
a less roguish looking and aomewhat more 
amiable face than her sister ; and although 
not quite so good an actress, she is a far 
better singer, and possesses great cdntrol 
of her sweet and well onltivated voice. 
Mr. Alfred thoroughly understands his part 



and has an intensely comic style of humor, 
and a good voice ; but, owing to his " rather 
over-doing it," and not giving sufficient 
change of manner to his change of charac- 
ters, some of his acting is by far too mo- 
notonous for great success. Mr. Simmonds 
has also a very good vein of humor, but of 
an entirely different kind to that of Nelson, 
and but for a little too much of the bom- 
bastic in his performances, would be a 
great favorite with the public The miMt 
en icenCf — a very important part of theatri- 
cal management — ^has been well attended 
to throughout the engagement of this 
troupe. 

The Lyceum was opened by an excellent 
stock company; but not being attended 
with sufficient profit to the performers. It 
was given up to Mr. Andrew Torning, and 
reOpened for the season, on the 10th nit. 

Mr. Lewis Baker, an excellent theatrical 
manager, opened the American theatre on 
Ihe 12th ult. Among the performers were 
Mrs. Alexina Fisher Baker, Mr. L. Baker — 
both old California favorites— Mrs. Judah, 
Miss Sophie Edwin, and Messrs. J. B. 
Booth, Geo. Byer, Wm. Barry, and other 
well and familiarly known artists. Should 
Mr. Baker present a series of nttc as well 
as good pieces, it is* our opinion that he 
possesses a company that is fully capable 
of placing them acceptably before the 
public, and his success will be certain. 



l4iMrs' Bonnrts. 
Shape of bonnets not so materially chan- 
ged as was anticipated ; still small, with a 
tendency to enlarge, and to flare more, and 
not so long at the corners; large size 
crowns, not sloped as much as the sum- 
mer's fashion, with larger and very square 
tips, that bell in the back and half way up 
the side crown. Ladies may congratulate 
themselves on having once more a com- 
fortable, fashionable bonnet. The "Leg- 
horn" is preferable to all others this fall, 
and next to it comes the chip and rice 
straws, trimmed with black and fancy col- 



OUR SOCIAL CHAIR. 



189 



on, blended. Rucbei all round inside are 
popular than during the summer 
I. White and mellow colors, in crape, 
sie used for both street and opera bonnets, 
at preaent, trimmed with blonde and flow- 
«• — thM« are raostlj made cap crowns, 
ipreadiBf out at the bottom and sides, and 
praent the appearance of an inverted fan ; 
the capea require to be narrower in the 
middle than at the sides, and gathered in. 
Much care is necessary to give this cape 
the reqvired styles 

liissif. 
Tuscan flats for misses of fourteen, trim- 

Btd with wreaths of pink roses inside and 
oat, with wide pink strings left to flow, 
the hat being confined bj narrow elastic 

aadcr the chin. 

ie> 

Jltnl^ JIfforb of Cnntni Cbntts. 

The Santa Cma Newt made its first ap- 
pcaraace August 24th, edited and publish- 
•d bjr William K. Stocum. 

The first of screral brilliant and beauti- 
ful Aurora Borealis, the colored ground of 
which was of carmine and silvery blue, 
vith light and bright rays shooting up at 
rifht UAf^es of the horizon nearly to the 
teatth« skad extending north of east and 
west of north over eleven points of the 
cempaaa, was visible throughout the State 
frum 9 o'clock P. II. of Aug. 28, to 2 o'clock 
A. IL of the 29th. This is the first of any 
Buguitode or splendor that has been seen 
iiace California has belonged to the U. 8. 
Sereral others equally brilliant have been 
mible daring the month. 

The old pioneer, Samuel Neal, died at 
Li residence near Chlco, Butte county, 
Aogust 36th. 

At a meeting of the citizens of San Fran- 
cisco, convened in accordance with an act 
of the Legislature on the 27th August, the 
fallowing persons were appointed Delegates 
from this county to the great Pacific Rail- 
road Coorention held in San Francisco on 
tae 19th nit. : John Middleton, J. B. Crock- 
tu, J. A. llcDongal, H. S. Fitch, Wm. B. 
Lewis, W. B. Farwell, B. A. Crowell, N. 
BoUaod, and B. U. Pate. 

Bayard Taylor, the celebrated traveler, 
sod wife, arrived in the Golden Age on the 
Itih of August last. 

On Saturday, Aug. 28th, two men na«fied 
and Girsel Peterson, wer^ 



at work in a tunnel, one mile from Monte 
Cbristo. They discovered the blacksmith 
shop and a pile of charcoal and wood, at 
the mouth of the tunnel, to be on fire. 
They attempted to escape, but were forced 
to return. Karsen went back about six 
hundred feet, fell insensible, and lay from 
two to seven P. M., when he was carried 
out. Though severely affected, he recov- 
ered. Peterson was found about five hun- 
dred feet in, and was taken out dead. 

The Knighft Landing Newt is the title of 
a new Yolo county paper, edited and pub- 
lished by Snyder k Howard. 

The annual. Fair of the Agricultural, 
Horticultural, and Mechanics' Society of 
the Northern District of California was held 
in Marysville, Aug. 30th, 31st, Sept. 1st, 
2d and 3d, and was a triumphant exhibi- 
tion of the progress made in Home pro- 
duce in the arts, mechanics, agriculture, &c. 

The Public Schools of San Francisco 
completed their examination on the 1st 
ult, prior to their vacation of two weeks. 

An overland mail between Stockton and 
this city has been established, and the line 
went into operation on Monday, August 
22d, when the first mail from Stockton via 
the new route was received at the post 
office in this city. The mail will be trans- 
ported daily. The distance run is seventy- 
nine miles. 

New gold diggins, says the Beaean^ were 
discovered on the bars of the upper Sacra- 
mento river, about twelve miles above Red 
Bluffs, paying from 98 to $10 per day to 
the hand. 

At the seventh annual examination of 
the students of the Benicia Seminary, Miss 
Mary Atkins, Principal, held Aug. 30th, 
31st, and Sept. 1st, at the close of the aca- 
demical year 1858-9, the following young 
Indies received graduating honors and a di- 
ploma: Miss Maria Barber, and Amanda 
Hook, of Martinez ; Sallie O. Knox, and 
Josephine F. Sather, of San Francisco ; 
Alida Wadhams, and Medora Wadhams, of 
Los Angeles. 

The California Horticultural Society held 
its third annual Fair at Musical Hall, San 
Francisco, on the 6th ult., coLtinuing four 
daySi when a rery large and choice variety 
of fruits and fiowers were exhibited. The 
introductory address was delivered by W. 
Wadsworth, editor of the California Cul^ 
turitt. 

Bayard Taylor, the traveler, gave a 
course of four lectures before the Mercan^ 
tile Library Assoeiatiotti for which they 
paid him $1,500. 



)90 



nUTCniNGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



The Territorial Enterpritt mentioDS a Pi 
Ute Indian who recently visited Genoa, 
who weighs 245 pounds, and measures 6 
feet 3} inches in height. He is onljr 26 
years of age, and is well featured. 

The following were the rates of passage 
by the steamers which sailed on the 5th 
nit. for the East: Mail steamer Golden 
Gate, 1st cabin, upper saloon, $107 ; Ist 
cabin, lower saloon, $ 82 ; 2d cabin, $ 50 ; 
steerage, $45. Opposition steamer Uncle 
8am, 1st cabin, deck state rooms, $100; 
main saloon, $80; second cabin, $50: 
steerage, $40. 

At the annual celebration of the Society 
of Galifornia Pioneers, on the 9th ult. — 
the day of this State's admission into the 
Union,* 1850, — W. B. Farwell, one of the 
editors of the Alia^ delivered the Oration, 
and John R. Ridge, the talented editor of 
the Marysville Democrat^ wrote, and was to 
deliver the Poem of the day, but which 
was read by Mr. J. C. Duncan. 

The San Andreas Independent describes 
the largest strike yet. Mr. Isbel, of Valle- 
cito, struck a wonderful streak of good 
fortune in his quartz ledge. He took out 
in two days $15,000. 

The Hon. David 0. Broderick, U. S. Sen- 
ator for Galifornia, was mortally wounded 
on the 13th ult, in a duel with D. S. Terry, 
Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of this 
State, and died of his wound on the morn- 
ing of the 16th, at San Francisco. Imme- 
diately after the news of his death was 
made known, all the flags of the city were 
lowered tc^half-mast, and public and pri- 
vate buildings were draped in mourning. 



On the 17th his body was laid in state. On 
the 18th Col. E. D. Baker delivered a glow- 
ing eulogy to his memory, before a large 
concourse of people assembled on the 
Plaza, the corpse lying before him on a 
catafalque erected for the purpose. After 
the oration, a vast procession, numbering 
several thousand, followed his remains to 
their last resting-place in Lone Mountain 
Cemetery. It was a solemn day of earnest 
and melancholy feeling. 

At the last election, held Sept. 7th, the 
following persons were chosen: for Gov- 
ernor, M. S. Latham; Lieut. Governor, J. 
G. Downey ; Congress, J. C. Burch and C. 
L. Scott ; Supreme Judge, W. W. Cope ; 
Attorney General, T. H. Williams; Clerk 
of Supreme Court, C. S. Fairfax; Comp- 
troller, S. H. Brooks ; Surveyor General, 
H. A. Higley; Superintendent of Public 
Instruction, A. J. Moulder; State Printer, 
C. T. Botts. Those candidates who were 
nominated by the People's Committee, for 
the city and county of San Francisco, were 
elected, with one exception, the Superin- 
tendent of Public Schools. 

The nuptials of Richard Williams and Ma- 
ry Jones, both of Suu Juan, Nevada county, 
by Rev. 0. 0. Wheeler, were celebrated in 
the agricultural pavilion, on the 17th ult., 
in the presence of about 1,500 persons. 

On the 20th ult. the John L. Stevens hud 
504 passengers for Panama, and the Ori- 
zaba 834. The steamer shipment was 
$1,858,653. 

A bnr of gold that weighed 158 ponnda, 
and valued at $41,000, was exhibited at 
the State Fair. 



!••*• 



(S^Viizx*z 9)aHe. 



^ Jty H ATE VER subjects may for the 
^StfSjf ^^™® being usurp the attention 
^ V# of the California public, and how- 
ever much we may risk the accusation of 
harping upon an exploded idea, and a 
worn-out theme, we nevertheless insist 
that no (bought can command more prac- 
tical importance to the people of the Pa- 
cific coast, than the Railroad—the PACIF- 
IC AND ATLANTIC RAILROAD. Inch 
by inch has the subject been fought in past 
times, and not without a certain amount of 
success, inasmuch as various routes hare 



been explored and surveyed at different 
points from the Mississippi valley to the 
Pacific Ocean. That is something. Semi- 
weekly stage lines, that carry the mails in 
as expeditious a manner as the mail steant- 
er, [and even anticipating a large pro- 
portion of the news] have been established 
and are in successful running order from 
that point to this. That again is some- 
thing. It is much. By the former we as- 
certain a vast amount of valuable informa- 
tion concerning the country over which m 
railroad must pass ; and by the latter we 



EDITOR'S TABLE. 



191 



biTe the pioneer of the locomotiye iUelf. 
Tet, these are KOT THB RAILROAD. 

We candidlj confess that as jet we hare 
■ot seen a good, safe, economical and prac- 
tical plan offered to the public, that has 
been snIBctentlj perfect and complete in 
itj general construction and main details^ 
to assume a tangible shape ; and such as 
tb« gorernment could feel at liberty to 
adopt, and at the same time maintain its 
cooscrTatire character. It is an easj 
natter to saj, " Gire us the railroad," but 
it is not an easj matter for so rast a work 
to be nndertakep, or eren assisted, bj the 
pBeral gorernment, without its great plan 
being well digested and sufficientlj well 
Coarded to prerent peculation. 

The Pacific and Atlantic Railroad Con- 
Tcntion, now in session, it is to be expect- 
fd as well as hoped, will originate and 
perfect such a plan as shall command the 
confidence and secure the assistance of the 
fOTemment — at least, so far as to enlist its 
aid lo construct the road across United 
^utes territory; and the atates at either end 
rf the route to build it to their respective 
Suu lines, either by public subscription 
or legUUtire enactment. It is true, that 
before the latter could be carried out with 
•a, the constitution would haye to be 
asMsdcd ; inasmuch, as it now stands, no 
debt that exceeds three hundred thousand 
4oi!ars cnn be contracted by the State, and 
ia caao of the desirability of a change, it 
should bo Tery guardedly done, as economy 
■eat certainly is our great hope of future 
prosperity. The moment that a good prac- 
tical pUa baa been adopted by the ConTen- 
tioo, wo would suggest the desirability of 
a large petition to the goTemment being 
vtll circolated throughout every settle- 
ment of the State, and signed by every 
friend of the measure. This will back up 
our belief ia the immediate necessity of 
the work, and compel the attention that its 
importnnee demands. 

Tn recent exhibition at the great State 
Fair, held ia Sacramento from Sept. 13th 
to tbc 23d, will speak more for the progress 



made in the manufactures, and all the won* 
drous and varied productions of the soil, 
than could be realized at a single glance 
at any ether similar display. Self-reliance, 
backed up with strong common sense, re- 
fined taste, skill, indomitable perseverance 
and untiring industry, hits proved, even to 
the doubtful and the wavering, that suc- 
cess is within the reach of those who toil * 
for it. 

From the work of the intelligent artizan 
and sturdy laborer to the refined and ele* 
vating exercises of gentler minds and 
fingers. Progress has been made self-evi- 
dent at this exhibition. No one, we should 
think, could walk around the magnifi- 
cent, well furnished, and tastefully ar- 
ranged pavilion, and look upon the beauti- 
fnl works of art — from an humble and un- 
pretentious pencil or water-color drawing, 
to the most elaborately worked fabric of 
silk — and not see how much of earnest 
faith, and patience, and hope, have been 
called into being through the fair hands 
that wrought them; or examine into the 
wonderful contrivances and triumphs of 
mechanical skill, apparent on every hand— 
from an eyeless miner's pick to the compli- 
cated workings of the steam engine — and 
not feel proud and hopeful that the day of 
a brighter destiny is dawning upon the 
dwellers on this far western coast 

The display of fruits, vegetables, and 
grains, in their infinite variety, beauty and 
size, would not only compare well with 
that of any other State in our glorious 
Union, but far eclipse them, one and all ; 
for, in these, our soil and climate enables 
us to throw down the challenging gauntlet 
triumphantly, knowing that they cannot 
equal, much less excel us. 

Besides, it was but a few years since thai 
we imported nearly all our breadstuffs, 
wines, cheese, butter, honey, pickles, pre- 
served fruits, refined sugar, hops, printing 
paper, furniture, friction matches, brooms, 
glue, starch, soap, candles, perfumery, 
camphene, leather, stone-ware, drugs, es« 
sential oils, paints, cigars, chairs, tubs, 
backets, willow ware, salt, wagons, bng* 



192 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



gies, carriages, saddlery and harness, min- 
ing tools, agricnltural implements and me- 
chanical tools, charns, brass work, piano 
fortes, billiard tables and cues, book-bind- 
ing, jewelry, sculpture, quicksilver, steam 
engines, and numberless other articles, 
now manufactured to a greater or less ex- 
tent in our own State ; and such has been 
the success in the production of cereals, 
that the quantity grown already exceeds 
our demands for home consumption, and 
consequently are becoming an important 
article of export. The healthy and almost 
incredible productions of the vine, and the 
flavor and fineness of our wines, have given 
them a word -wide celebrity. Our gold has 
supplied the coffers of nearly all the treas- 
uries of the world with important addi- 
tions to their stock of bullion. Quicksilver 
from the mines of New Almaden and Gaud- 
alupe has for several years been a profita- 
ble article of export as well as of home 
consumption. 

At one time, it was a matter of some 
anxiety whether or not the supply of beef 
cattle and sheep would not decrease to 
such an extent by over-consumption as to 
justify the expectation of a famine in fresh 
meats ; but, although our population has 
been great, and the consumption heavy, 
such has been the ratio of increase, that 
our markets have been well supplied, and 
yet the number of animals of the finest 
breeds, has been nearly doubled. Many of 
our horses will already compare favorably 
with the celebrated stock of Kentucky and 
Tennessee : if any person doubts this, let 
him go and examine for himself. Recently 
a fine assortment of French and Spanish 
Merino sheep were imported, and such was 
the fineness and weight of the fleeces taken 
from them, that they were sold at almost 
fabulous prices — some even as high as one 
thousand five hundred dollars each. Qui- 
•tly, but surely, has been the progress 
made in live stock of all kinds ; the raising 
and improving of which has been attended 
with very profitable results. Therefore 
let us all take courage to renew our efforts 
and assist in that progress that shall be 
lasting. 



These, and many more that might be 
enumerated not only illustrate the progress 
we are making as a State and people, but 
tell of the gradual retention among us of a 
portion of that wealth which formerly pass- 
ed out semi-monthly for the benefit of the 
exporter. Therefore, every one of both 
sexes who devotes his or her talents to the 
development or production of any article 
of consumption or of export, be it ever so 
simple, becomes a public benefactor, and 
as such, is entitled to the gratitude of a 
commonwealth. 

With this view, we consider that an un- 
successful competitor for a premium at 
these annual exhibitions, contributes as 
much to advance the interests of a State, 
and often to his own fortunes, as the suc- 
cessful one. Actual success is not to be 
measured, in our estimation, by the gain 
or loss of a prize. Besides the hope and 
aim that stimulate the attempt for success, 
secures the possession of the dignifying 
principle of self-reliance, as much to the 
one as to the other ; and to the true man, 
defeat this time will be nothing more than 
the creator of a determined resolve by re- 
newed efforts on his part to place his suc- 
cess next time beyond the possibility of 
defeat. 

Co Conlribtttors anb Comsponbtnis. 

Mitt T. — ^Welli we should think you would 

object to such a name as Tar , (we 

will not write it in fall.) Anybody would 
who has any pride for euphony in their 
nature ; but ladies can generally have 
their names corrected much easier than 
gentlemen, providing they can prevail 
upon some one who will assume the re* 
sponsibilily. Tryit ; you're not too old 
yet. 

Prof. JTom. — No. We could*nt find room 
tor no siich " lines of contents" in our 
columns. W e could'nt. We have a kink on 
the iniide of our neck from reading them, 
that may result in lock-jaw ; and sup- 
posing such an effect to be upon all our 
readers, the result of printing them would 
be fearful to contemplate. 



Near View of the Y0-8EMITE FALLS. 

a.OOO FEET IN HEIGHT. 



HUTCHINGS' 

CAIIFOEMA MAGAZISE. 

Vol. IV. JiTOVEMB-EB. 1859. JTo. 6. 
THE QSEAT YO-SEMITE TALLET. 



•M roTMIuii^ tmt eipenence 

«wwi that tbia iuppMilion '" """^t-h 

»!• alh«athar too f»Torabl«. "**"' 

^ bat«l being newly built, althoagh ( furaitnra, mnd Otfaor ooiiTeniaDCM, WM 

■"■7, WM not very oommodioDi, tod but little in adTaooe of our itu^lightod 

■"iag to ft bek of lingle ftputnenti, I obvnber of thfl prorioiu night ; jet, in 



194 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



order to meet this difficulty, at least half 
way, the really obliging proprietor had 
constructed some brush shanties, or ar- 
bors, sufficiently large to accommodate 
two or three persons, and carpeted it with 
fern leaves, and these formed the bed ; 
but owing to the mosquitoes having re- 
cently given a series of yery successful 
concerts in the valley, as reported by oth- 
er travelers, they were now in high spir- 
its, and had a playful habit of alighting 
ou and piercing our noses and foreheads, 
to keep us awake, that we might not lose 
a single note of their nocturnal serenade. 

Then, weary as we were, it seemed 
such a luxury to lie and listen to the 
splashing, washing, roaring, surging, 
hissing, seething sound of the great Yo- 
Semite Falls ; just opposite, or to pass 
quietly out of our brush shelter and 
look up between the lofty pines and 
spreading oaks^ to the granite cliffs that 
towered up with such majesty of form 
and boldness of outline, against the vast 
etherial vault of heaven; or watch in 
the moonlight the ever changing shapes 
and shadows of the water, as it leaped 
the cloud-draped summit of the moun- 
tain and fell in gusty torrents on the un- 
yielding granite, to be dashed to an in- 
finity of atoms. Then to return to our 
fern-leaf couch, and dream of some tute- 
lary genus, of immense proportions, ex- 
tending over us his protecting arms, and 
admonishing the waterfall to modulate 
the music of its voice into some gently 
soothing lullaby, that we might sleep and 
be refreshed. 

Some time before the sun could get a 
good, honest look at us, deep down as we 
were in this awful chasm, we saw him 
painting his rosy smiles upon the ridges, 
and washing lights and shadows in the 
furrows of the mountain's brow, as 
though it took a pride in showing up, to 
the best advantage, the wrinkles time 
had made upon it ; but all of us felt too 
fatigued fully to enjoy the thrilling 



grandeur and beauty that surrounded ub.~~ 
Here, reader, permit us to remark thai 
ladies or gentlemen, especially the form- 
er, who yisit this valley to look upon and 
appreciate its wonders, and make it s 
trip of pleasurable enjoyment, should' 
not attempt its accomplishment in lesi 
than three days, either from Mariposa, 
Coulterville, or Big Oak Flat. If this if 
remembered, the enjoyment will bi 
doubled. 

After a substantial breakfast, made 
palatable by that most excellent of saaces 
a good appetite, our guide announced , 
that the horses were ready, and the sad I 
die-bags well stored with such good.^ 
things as would commend themselves ac 
ceptably to our attention about noon, wc> 
were soon in our saddles and off. "^ 



* CHAPTER V. 

They spake not a word : 
Bat, like dumb statues, or breathless stones, 
Btar^d on each other, and looked deadly pale. 

8bak8 : Richard III, 

After' crossing a rude bridge over th^ 
main stream, which is here about sixty! 
feet in width, and eight in depth, at thifr 
season of the year, we kept down th 
northern bank for a short distance, to 
avoid a large portion of the valley in 
front of the hotel, that was then oyer- 
flowed with water. On either side of our 
trail, in several places, such was the 
luxuriant growth of the ferns, that thej 
were above our shoulders as we rodi 
through them. 

Presently we reached one of the moal 
beautifully picturesque scenes that eyi 
ever saw. It was the ford. The oakj 
dogwood, maple, cottonwood, and oth 
trees^ formed an arcade of great beaulj 
over the sparkling, rippling, pebbl; 
stream, and in the back-ground, the lo 
er fall of the To-Semite was dropping i 
sheet of snowy sheen behind a dark mi 
die distance of pines and hemlocks. 

As the snow was rapidly melting. 



THB GREAT TO-SEHITE VALLEY. 



197 



■J the gTMUMt ftttracUoD of Uie nlley. 
XonoTcr, io Uiia b cantered maDy 
Knekbl««asooiatioii8totbe Indian mind; 
>* hen waa once the tnwlitioiiuj h<»ne 
■I At gatrdiaa apirit of the Tftllej, the 



angeMike and beaaUful Tit-ta-ack, aod 
afW whom her devoted Indian worship- 
pen named this gloriously magestic 
monntain. While we sit in the shade of 
these fine old treee and look apon all the 



BirZB BCim BILOW THB BBIDOB, I 



in 



a PHaloarapH, by O. L. ^ed.] 



'.■rtK aroand at, and miiroTed on the 
truffled boaon of the lake, let as relate 
-'» rolknring interesting legend of Tn- 
i-Hy«h«ti-lah, after whom the vast per- 
^dicnlar and nwMiTA projecting rock 
" lb* iawer end of - the Tallej, was 
'uMd, and with which ia interwoTen 
ih hiitorj of Tie-aa^ck. 

T1u4 l^end wai (old in an eaetem 
.•Dnul, by B gentleman reaiding here, 



who ligDB himself " Iota," and who re- 
ceived it from the'H^ of an old Indian, 
in the relatioir'of which, although «evcral 
points of inter«it are omitted, it will, 
neTertbeleu, prove very entertaining: 

"It wasin theanrememberedpast that 
the efaildreo of the sun first dwelt in Yo- 
aemite. Then all was happiness ; for 
ToloobshnuUh sat on high in his rocky 
borne, and cared for the people whom be 



]9S 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



loved. Leaping over the upper plains, 
he herded the wild deer, that the people 
might choose the fattest for the feast. 
He roused the bear from his cavern in 
the mountain, that the brave might hunt. 
From his lofty rock he prayed to the 
Great Spirit, and brought the soft rain 
upon the corn in the valley. The smoke 
of his pipe curled into 'the air, and the 
golden sun breathed warmly through its 
blue haze and ripened the crops, that the 
women might gather them in. When he 
laughed, the face of the winding river 
was rippled with smiles ; when he sigh- 
ed, the wind swept sadly through the 
singing pines ; if he spoke, the sound 
was like the deep voice of the cataract ; 
and when he smote the far-striding bear, 
his whoop of triumph rang from crag to 
gorge — echoed from mountain to moun- 
tain. His form was straight like the ar- 
row, and elastic like the bow. His foot 
was swifter than the red deer, and his 
eye was strong and bright like the rising 
sun. 

"But one morning, as he roamed, a 
bright vision came before him, and then 
the soft colors of the West were in his 
lustrous eye. A maiden sate upon the 
southern granite dome that raises its 
gray head among the highest peaks. She 
was not like the dark maidens of the 
tribe below, for the yellow hair rolled 
over her dazzling form, as golden waters 
over silver rocks ; her brow beamed with 
the pale beauty of the moonlight, and 
her blue eyes were as the far-off hills 
before the sun goes down. Her little 
foot shone like the snow-tufls on the 
wintry pines, and its arch was like the 
spring of a bow. Two cloud-like wings 
wavered upon her dimpled shoulders, 
and her voice was as the sweet sad tone 
of the night-bird of the woods. 

" ' Tutochahnulah,' she softly whisper- 
ed — then gliding up the rocky dome, she 
vanished over its rounded top. Keen was 
the eye, quick was the ear, swift was the 



foot of the noble youth as he sped up the 
rugged path in pursuit; but the soft 
down from her snowy wings was wafted 
into his eyes and he saw her no more. 

*' Every morning now did the enamor- 
ed Tutochahnulah leap the stony barri- 
ers and wander over the mountains to 
meet the lovely Tes-sa-ach. Each day he 
laid sweet acorns and wild flowers upon 
her dome. His ear caught her footstep, 
thongh it was light as the falling leaf : 
his eye gazed upon her beautiful form, 
and into her gentle eyes ; but never did 
he speak before her, and never again did 
her sweet-toned voice fall upon his ear. 
Thus did he love the fair maid, and so 
strong was his thought of her that he 
forgot the crops of Yo-Scmite, and they, 
without rain, wanting his tender care, 
quickly drooped their heads and shrunk. 
The wind whistled mournfully throngh 
the wild corn, the wild bee stored no 
more honey in the hollow tree, for the 
flowers had lost their freshness, and the 
green leaves became brown. Tutochah- 
nulah saw none of this, for his eyes were 
dazzled by the shining wings of the 
maiden. But Tes-sa-ach looked with sor- 
rowing eyes over the neglected valley, 
when early in the morning she stood up- 
on the gray dome of the mountain ; so, 
kneeling on the smooth, hard rock, the 
maiden besought the Great Spirit to 
bring again the bright flowers and deli- 
cate grasses, green trees, and nodding 
acorns. 

'* Then, with an awful sound, the dome 
of granite opened beneath her feet, and 
the mountain was riven asunder, while 
the melting snows from the Nevada gush- 
ed through the wonderful gorge. Quick- 
ly they formed a lake between the per- 
pendicular walls of the cleft mountain, 
add sent a sweet murmuring river thro' 
the valley. All then was changed. The 
birds dashed their little bodies into the 
pretty pools among the grasses, and flut- 
tering out again sang for delight ; the 



)rsi 



THE GREAT TO-SEMITE VALLEY. 



199 



moistare crept lileatl j througb the psioh- 
«d K>il ; the flowSTS imit ap a fngnnt 
ioMDM of thanki ; tbe oom gracefully 
niied its drooping head; and the eap. 



with Tehet footfall, ran op into the treea, 
^TiDg life and energy to all. But the 
maid, for whom the valley had suffered, 
and thtODgh whom it had been again 



TlBir Vt NORTD AMD SOITTB DOHU, "TO-COT- 

dothed with beaaty, had disappeared ai . 
•traogely >■ she came. Yet, that all 
niigbl hold her memory in their hearts, 
she left the quiet lake, the winding riTOr, 
and yonder kalj-dome, which still bean 
her Dame, * Tei-ia-ack,' It is said to be 
4,500 feet high, and every evening it 
catchee the last roey rays that are reflec- 
ted from the snowy peaks above. As she 
flew away, small downy feathers were 
wafted from her wings, and where they 
fell, on the margin of the lake, yon will 
now see thousands of little white violets. 
" When Tatoohahnnlah knew that ahe 
waa gone, he left his rocky euatle and 
wandered away in search of hie loat love. 
Bat that the Yo-Semites might never for- 
g«t fain, with the hunting-knife in his 
bold band, he carved the outlinea of bis 
noble bead upon the face of the rock. 
And tbare they still remain, 3,000 feet 



-■■" AMD "TI8-HA-ACK," fKOM TH« VALLIT. 

in the air, guarding the entrance to Uie 
beautiful valley which had received bis 
loving care. Iota." 



The rapidly declining son and an ad- 
monishing voice from our organs of di- 
gestion, were both persuasive influences 
to recommend an early departure for the 
hotel and dinner, and which, we need not 
add, were promptly responded to. 

Aa we sat in the stillness and twilight 
of evening, thinking over and conversing 
about the wondrous scenes onr eyes had 
looked upon that day ; or listened, in si- 
lence, to the deep music of the distant 
waterfalls, onr hearts seemed full to 
overflowing with a sense of the grandeur, 
wildness, beauty, and profuundnesa to be 
felt and enjoyed when communing with 
the glorious works of nature ; and 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



Aad lUtni ihoiigfau 1117 odSj gnjert. 

CHAPTER VII. 
^ filtmbing €taaiim. 

Expect ETHt tblngi, ftbtflmpl grul tblngi. 

Aa nDdefinable longing to look down 
from the top of the moaataio Tolls that 
encorapaas tbis vallej ; to examine the 
Burrounding country ab<we, and meaHure 
the width and depth of the Yo-Semite 
riTer, before it leaps down into the abjsa 
below, Btimulated the wriMr and Mr. J. 
Lamson, an artist, to make the attempt 
Accordingly we repaired to the foot of 
an almost inaccessible mountain gorge, 
named Indian Canon, situated aboat a 
quarter of a mile to the east of the Yo- 
Semite falls, and nearly opposite to the 
hotel, for the purpose of making the as- 
cent. It was a fatiguing and difficult 
task that few bad 
ever undertaken. 
In order the better 



Thus protected, we climbed orei, ore] 
beneath, or walked around, the huf 
boulders that formed the bed of tt 
gorge; and which, owing to their in 
mense eiie, frequently oompelled ns 1 
make a detour in the sun to avoid then 
or seek aa easy an ascent as posuble i 
the accomplishment of this our excessiT> 
ly fatiguing task. 

A cascade of considerable volume -wa 
leaping over this, dashing past that, rusb 
ing between those, and gurgling amoQ) 
these rooks, affording us gratuitous miisi> 
and drink as we climbed. 

Largo pine trees that had fallen acros. 
the canon during the rapid meltiDf 
of the enow, bad been lifted op bdc 
tossed, like a skiff by an angry sea, tt 
the top of some hnge rocks, and there 
left Onward and upward we toiled, th( 
perspiration rolling from our brows ; but 
we were cheered and rewarded by the ic' 
creasing novelty and beauty of the scenes 
that were momentarily opening to our 
view as we ascended. 



cess, we started ear- 
ly in the morning. 
The day proved to 
beoneofthe warm- 
est of the season, aa 
the Ihermomoter in 
the valley stood at 
104=. 

Yet after fwrly 
entering the canon, 
the trees and shrubs 
that grew between 
the rocks, afforded 
us a very grateful 
shelter for a quarter 

, , ,. ^ TBI rEBBr. 

of the distance up ; [n«m a PM<vrapA by 0. L, Wt»i\ 

when the almost vertical mountun side 1 When about half way up, progressing 
on our right, threv its refreshing shadow as well aa we could on hands and knees, 
across the ascent for the greater portion without a thought of danger, a large 
of the remaining distance. snake epmng his rattle before us, Justin 



THE GREAT TO-SEMTPE VALLEY. 



time to give infbniwtioD that » forked 
teniae Hid K piuT of fange were witbio 
a few inohM of oar face. To leap back, 
waa the prompt, ipontaDMOB act of a 
momeiit, and, wbeo dulj armed, we val- 
orously charged upon the enemj, and re- 
lieved him of Ur life and rattlei. 

At noon we reached the eammit of the 
monntuD. From its loflj top, the mag- 
nificent panorama that waa spread oat 
before m, it ia imponible to describe. 
Deep, deep below, in pe&ceful repoee, 
(lept the Tallej ; ita carpet of green cat 
ap bj iheeta of itsnding water and 
■nail brooks that ran down from ererj 
raTioa and gorge, while the lerpentiue 
cooree of the river reeembled a hnge lil- 



Ter ribbon, as ita ebeen flashed in the 
sun. On ita banks, and at the foot of the 
monntaina around, grovee of pines two 
bnndred feet in bight, looked like mere 

All the hollowe of the tndn chain of 
the ffierras, atretching to the eastward, 
and Bouthward, apparently but a few 
milea diatant, were yet filled with anow; 
above and out of which sharp and bare 
•aw-like peaka of rock, rose well defined, 
againat the clear blae akj. The eonlh 
dome from this elevation, as from the 
valley, ia the grandest of all the objects 
in sight; a oonieal monntoin beyond, 
and a little to the soath of the eoatb 
dome, is apparently at high, bnt few 



202 



HUTCHINQS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



points even of the summita of the Sierras 
seem to be but little higher than it. 

The bare, smooth granite top of this 
mountain upon which we stood; and the 
stunted and storm-beaten pines that 
struggled for existence and sustenance 
in the seams of the rock, with other 
scenes equally unprepossessing, present- 
ed a view of savage sterility and dreari- 
ness that was in striking contrast with 
the productive fertility of the lands be- 
low, or the heavily timbered forests 
through which we had passed on our 
way to the valley. 

From this ridge, which most probably 
is not less than 3,500 foet above the val- 
ley, we descended nearly 1,000 feet, at 
an easy grade, to the Yo-Semite river, 
where we took lunch. The current of 
this stream for half a mile above the 
edge of the falls runs at the rate of 
about eights knots an hour. Upon 
careful measurement with a line, we 
found it to be thirty-four and a half feet 
in width, with an average depth of twelve 
inches. The grey granite rock over which 
it runs is very hard, and as smooth 
as a sheet of ice, to tread which in safety 
great care is needed; or before one is 
aware of it he would find his head where 
his feet should be, when the force of the 
current would sweep him over the falls. 

After placing a flag upon the tree 
standing nearest the edge of the fall, the 
accomplishment of which was attended 
with considerable danger, owing to a 
very strong wind that blew through the 
gap, we prepared to return. 

But when we had reached the top of 
the ridge before mentioned, and again 
saw the wonders and glories that were 
beyond us, all that we seemed to wish or 
hope for was the posession of a single 
pound of bread, that, after building us a 
fire, by which to sleep for the night with- 
out blankets, we might pursue our inter- 
esting explorations to a more satisfactory 
oloee on the morrow. 

As the sun had nearly set before we 



were content to leave this charmed spot, 
and our descent occupied us busily Tot 
over four hours, we did not arrive at ttic 
hotel until very late at night, so that ^mre 
had to find our way over the jagged rooka 
and among the smooth boulders, of tiie 
gorge, in the dark, with the risk of bre&k- 
ing our limbs or neck. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

ionu pads of ^bxtjtrlattl^. 

While recruiUng a little, after our fa- 
tiguing jaunt to the top of the falls, wo 
had the pleasure of meeting the Rev. P. 
V. Veeder, who, having visited Switmer- 
land aud Savoy, has sent us the follow inj^ : 

According to promise, I send you a 
few notes of comparison between the 
scenery of Yo-Semite valley and that of 
some parts of Switserland. 

The Alps of Switserland and Savoy, 
may be compared to a vast shield, or 
buckler, lying on the bosom of the earth, 
and extending one hundred and fiAy 
miles, from the borders of Franoe to the 
Alps of the Tyrol, and one hundred miles 
Arom the plains of Piedmont to the broad 
valley between the Alps and the Jura 
Mountains. From this rough-seamed 
surface, there rise three immense bosses, 
or projecting points— three radiating cen- 
tres, sending off lofty chains of moun- 
tains towards each other, and into the 
plains of France, Italy, and Switserland, 
at their feet. The loftiest of these bosses 
or centres, is Mt. Blanc in Savoy, the 
height of which is 15,744 feet ; the next 
in height is Monte Rosa, 15,200 feet 
high ; and the third is the Bemeoe Alps, 
the culminating point of which is the 
Finster-aarhorn, 14,100 feet high. The^^e 
three grand centres are about sixty milei 
apart, and each has a scenery peculiar 
to itself. They are alike, vast rugged 



: 



mountain masses, towering 6,000 feet 



into the region of perpetual snow ; but 



THE GREAT TO-SEMITE VALLEY. 



uroiAif 
Ml BluohMiti"uguillM,"orneedlM; 
ModU Rom, its wooderfal aeighbor, Hf 
Corria; tnd th« B«rnese Alpa hnTe their 
beautirulTftlla/of miity waterf&llj, lasp- 
iDK over perpaodioalsr oliffa. The trsi- 
eler who risita Yo-Semite vftllej ftftsr 
•eeiDg the Alp*, will be reminded of «M;b 
of theee three gnnd centre*. He will 
■M the AigaillM of Ht. BIvio, in the 
" Sentinel," or " Cutle Rock," riiiag u 
•trkigbt M K needle, to the height of 
3.S00 feet abore the Tftllay, ud in Mve- 
r*l other pointed rooka of the Mme kind. 
He will be reminded of the anblimeet ob- 
ject in the fioinitj of Honte Rom, the 
Materhom, or HL Cerrio, the anmmitof 
which ia ft dark obeliek of porphjrj, 
riling from a ae* of anow, to the height 
of 4,500 feeL The " South Dome," kt 



CAitoir. 

To-Semit« fblle ia » aimilftr obeliak, 4,593 

feet in height. 

Bnt above all, the general ahape, the 
lite, and the waterfolla of Yo-Semite 
rallej giTe it the oloeeet reeemblance to 
the famooB Talley of Lauterbrunnen, at 
the baae of the Jungfran, in theBemeee 
Alpa. No part of Switserland ia more 
admired and naitad. To me, its chief 
charm ia not BO mnoh ita anblime preoi- 
picee, and ita lotij waterfalla, which gire 
the Taller >*■ """»• " Laoterbmnnen," 
meaning " aounding brooka," aa the mag- 
nifloent mountain lummila, towering up 
beyond the precipicea, and the unearthlj 
beauty and purity of the gliatening anowa 
on the boeom of the Jongfrau, and the 
mountaiuB at the bead of the tallej. 
But tbeea nmmiU are sot the peculiar 



204 



HUTOHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



characteristio features of Laaterbrunnen 
Tallej. These are the waterfalls, the 
perpendicular precipices, and the beauti- 
ful grassy and yine-clad vale between. 
And these are the grand features of Yo- 
Semite valley. Here you stand in a level 
valley of about the same dimensions as 
the Lauterbrunnen valley — ^from eight to 
ten miles long, and a little more than a 
mile wide — covered here with a magnifi- 
cent pine forest, the trees averaging two 
hundred feet in height — there, with a 
growth of noble oaks, and elsewhere, 
opening into broad grassy fields. These 
natural features almost equal in beauty 
the vineyards, gardens, and cultivated 
fields of Lauterbrunnen. 

But look now at the waterfalls : only 
one of them in the Swiss valley has a 
European celebrity — the Staubbach, or 
"Dust Brook,'' — ^known asrthe highest 
cascade in Europe. It falls at one leap, 
925 feet. Long before it reaches the 
ground, it becomes a veil of vapor, be- 
clouding acres of fertile soil at its foot. 
It is worthy of all the admiration and 
enthusiasm it excites in the beholder 
But the "Bridal Veil" Falls in To-Semite 
valley is higher, being 940 feet in altitude, 
leaps out of a smoother channel, in a 
clear, symmetrical arch of indescribable 
beauty — has a larger body of water, and 
is surrounded by far loftier, and grander 
precipices. 

When we come to the "To-Semite 
Falls " proper, we behold an object which 
has no parallel anywhere in the Alps. 
The upper part is the highest waterfall 
in the world, as yet discovered, being 
1,500 feet in height. It reminds me of 
nothing in the Alps, but the avalanches 
seen falling at intervals down the preci- 
pices of the Jungfrau. It is indeed a 
perpetual avalanche of water comminu- 
ted as finely as snow, and spreading as 
it descends into a transparent veil, like 
the train of the great comet of 1858. As 
you look at it from the valley beneath, a 



thousand feet below, it is not unlike a 
snowy comet, perpetualfy climbing, (not 
the heavens,) but the glorious cliffs which 
tower up 3,000 feet into the senith 
above, not unlike a firmament of rock. 

The lower section of the Yo-Semite 
Falls has its parallel in Switzerland, the 
Handeck, but is much higher. The scen- 
ery around the " Vernal Falls,'' which re- 
semble a section of the American Falls at 
Niagara, is like that of the Devil's Bridge, 
in the Great St. Gothard road, which j 
is perhaps the wildest and most savage 
spot in Switzerland, unless we except 
that wonderful gorge of the Rhine — the 
Yidellala. But when you climb through 
blinding spray, and up the " ladders," to 
the top of the Yemal Falls, and foUow 
the foaming river to the foot of the Ne- 
vada Falls, all comparison fails to convey 
an idea of the sublimity and wildness of 
the scene. The Swiss traveler must climb 
the rugged sides of Mt. Blanc, cross the 
Mere de Glace, and stationing himself on 
the broken rocks of the Gardin, imagine 
a river falUng in a snowy avalanche over 
the shoulder of one of the sharp Aiguil- 
les, or needle-shaped peaks, around him. 
There are no glaciers at the foot of the 
Nevada Falls, but every other feature of 
the scene, has an unearthly wildness, to 
be equalled only near Alpine summits. 

To return again to the comparison of 
the sister valleys — the Yo-Semite and 
the Lauterbrunnen. The third peculiar 
feature of the Swiss valley is the parallel 
precipices on each side, rising perpendic- 
ularly from 1,000 to 1,500 feet. They 
are indeed sublime, and where the clifif 
projects, in a rounded form, like the bas- 
tions of some huge castle, you might 
imagine that you beheld one of the strong- . 
holds of the fabled Titans of old. Bui 
what are they, compared with such a giant 
as Tutochahnulah, lifting up his square, 
granite forehead, 3,090 feet above the 
grassy plain at his feet, a rounded, curv- 
ing cliff, as smooth, as symmetrical, to 



THB GREAT YO^EMITE VALLEY. 



207 



like the substance of a fallen one, and 
many semblances were unreal and mis- 
leading. The safest course was to give 
Tour horse a full rein and trust to his 
sagacity or self-love for keeping the trail. 
A4 we descended by ligzags the north 
(kce of the all but perpendicular moun- 
tain, our moonlight soon left us, or was 
preMnt only by reflection from the oppo- 1 
site cliff. Soon, the trail became at once 
%> steep, so rough, and so tortuous, that 
we all dismounted, but my attempt at 
walking proved a miserable failure. I 
had been riding with a bad Mexican stir- 
rup, which baraly admitted the toes of 
niy left foot, and continual pressure on 
these had sprained and swelled them so 
that walking was positive torture. I peiv 
eldted in the attempt till my companions 
innitfted on my remounting, and then 
fli>undering slowly to the oottom. By 
»teady effort we descended the three 
mile^ (4,000 feet perpendicular) in two 
hours, and stood at midnight by the 
rushing, roaring waters of the Merced. 

That first full, deliberate gaze up the 
opposite hi^htl can I ever forget it? 
The valley is here scarcely half a mile 
wide, while its northern wall of mainly 
naked, perpendicular granite is at least 
4.(H)a feet high — probably more. But 
the modicum of moonlight that fell into 
this awful gorge eave to that precipice a 
Tagueness of outUne, an indefinite vast- 
nesji, a ghostly and weird spirituality. 
Had the mountain spoken to me in auai- 
ble voice, or begun to lean over with the 
purpose of burying me beneath its crush- 
ing mass, I should hardly have been sur- 
prised. Its whiteness, thrown into bold 
relief by the patches of trees or shrubs 
which frineea or flecked it wherever a 
fow bandfuTis of its moss, slowly decom- 
pii«ed to earUi, could contrive to hold on, 
continaallj suggested the presence of 
(inow, which suggestion, with difficulty 
rt'l'uted, was at once renewed. And, 
l<Njking up the valley, we saw just such 
m*»ttntain precipices, barely separated by 
interrening wateiHsourses (mainly dry 
at this season), of inconsiderable depth, 
and only receding sufficiently to make 
- vm for a very narrow meadow indos- 

g the river, to the furthest limit of 
viition. 

We dtsonssed the propriety of camping 
•iirectiy at the foot of the pass, but de- 
cided against it, because of the inade- 
(uaey of the grass at this point for our 



tired, hungry beasts, and resolved to 
push on to the nearest of the two houaes 
in the valley, which was said to be four 
miles distant. To my dying day, I shall 
remember that weary, interminable ride 
up the valley. We had been on foot 
since daylight; it was now past mid- 
night; all were nearly used up, and I in 
torture from over eleven hours' steady 
riding on the hardest trotting horse in 
America. Yet we pressed on, and on, 
through clumps of trees, and bits of for- 
est, and patches of meadow, and over 
hillocks of mountain d€bris, mainly gran- 
ite boulders of every size, often nearly as 
round as cannon balls, forming all but 
perpendicular banks to the capricious 
torrent that brought them hither — those 
stupendous precipices on either side glar- 
ing down upon us all the while. How 
many times our heavy eyes — I mean 
those of my San Francisco friend and my 
own — were lighted up by visions of that 
intensely desired cabin — visions which 
seemed distinct and unmistakable, but 
which, alasl a nearer view proved to be 
made up of moonlight and shadow, rock 
and tree, into which they faded one after 
another. It seemed at length that we 
should never reach the cabin, and my 
wavering mind recalled elfish German 
stories of the Wild Huntsman, and of 
men who, having accepted invitations to 
a midnight chase, found on their return 
that said chase had been prolonged till all 
their relatives and friends were dead, 
and no one could be induced to recognize 
or recollect them. Gladly could I have 
thrown myself recklessly from the sad- 
dle, and lain where I fell till morninir, 
but this would never answer, and we 
kept steadily on, 

** Time and the hour wear oat the longest daj." 

At length the real cabins-one made of 
posts and beams and wbipsawed boards 
instead of rock, and shadow, and moon- 
shine — was reached, and we all eagerly 
dismounted, turning out our weary steedfs 
into abundant grass, and stirring up the 
astonished landlord, who had never be- 
fore received guests at that unseemly 
hour. (It was after one A. M.^ He made 
us welcome, however, to his oest accom- 
modations, which would have found us 
lenient critics even had they been worse, 
and I crept into my rude but clean bed 
as soon as possible, while the rest await- 
ed the preparation of some refreshment 
for the inner man. There was never a 



208 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



dainty that could have tempted me to 
eat at that hour.' I am told that none 
ever before traveled from Bear Valley to 
Yosemite in one day — I am confident no 

freen-horns ever did. The distance can 
ardly exceed thirty miles by an air line ; 
but only a bird could traverse that line, 
while, by way of Mariposas and the 
South Fork, it must be fully sixty miles, 
with a rise and fall of not less than 20|- 
000 feet. 

The Fall of the Yosemite, so called, is 
a humbug. It is not the Merced Kiver 
that makes this fall, but a mere tributa- 
ry trout-brook, which pitches in from the 
north by a barely broken descent of 
2,600 feet, while the Merced enters the 
valley at its eastern extremity, over falls 
of 600 and 250 feet. But a river thrice 
as large as the Merced at this season 
would be utterly dwarfed by all the oth- 
er accessories of this prodigious chasm. 
Only a Mississippi or a Niagara could be 
adequate to their exactions. I readily 
concede that a hundred times the present 
amount of water may roll down the Yo- 
semite fall in the mont hs of May and 
June, when the snows melting from the 
central ranges of the Sierra Nevada 
which bound this abyss on the east; but 
this would not add a fraction to the won- 
der of this vivid exemplification of the 
Divine power and majesty. At present, 
the little stream that leaps down the Yo- 
semite and is all but shattered to mist 
by the amazing descent, looks more like 
a tape-line let down from the cloud- 
capped hight to measure the depth of 
the abyss. The Yosemite VcdUy (or 
Goree) is the most unique and majestic 
of Nature's marvels, but the Yosemite 
Fall is of little account. AYere it absent, 
the valley would not be perceptibly less 
worthy of a fatiguing visit. 

We traversed the Valley from end to 
end next day, but an accumulation of de- 
tails on such a subject only serve to con- 
fuse and blunt the observer's powers of 
perception and appreciation. Perhaps 
the visitor who should be content with a 
long look into the abyss from the most 
convenient hight, without braving the toil 
of a descent, would be wiser than all of 
U8 ; and yet that first glance upward 
from the K>ot will long haunt me as more 
impressive than any Ibok downward from 
the summit could be. 

I shall not multiply details, nor waste 
paper in noting all the foolish names 



— : r' 

which foolish people have given to di^ 
ferent peaks or turrets. Just think o| 
two giant stone towers or pillars,* whicli 
rise a thousand feet about the towerinfl 
cliff which forms their base, beine style] 
** The Two Sisters 1 " Could anythine be 
more maladroit and lackadaisical ? *' Tb* 
Dome'' is a high, round, naked peaky 
which rises between the Merced and iuf 
little tributary from the inmost recesses 
of the Sierra Nevada already instanced, 
and which towers to an altitude of over 
five thousand feet above the waters at its 
base. Picture to yourself a perpendicular 
wall of bare eranite nearly or quite one 
mile high I Yet there are some dozen or 
score 01 peaks in all, ranging from 3,000 
to 5,000 feet above the Valley, and a 
biscuit tossed from any of them would 
strike very near its base, and its frag- 
ments go bounding and falling still furth- 
er. I certainly miss here the Glaciers of 
Chamounix ; but I know no single won- 
der of Nature on earth which can claim 
a superiority over the Yosemite. Just 
dream yourself for one hour in a chasm 
nearly ten miles long, with egress for 
birds and water out at either extremity, 
and none elsewhere save at three points, 
up the face of precipices from 3,000 to 
4,000 feet high, the cnasm scarcely more 
than a mile wide at any point, and taper- 
ing to a mere gorge or canon at either 
end, with walls of mainly naked and per- 
pendicular white granite from 8,000 to 
5,000 feet high, so that looking up to the 
sky from it is like looking out of an un- 
fathomable profound — and you will have 
some conception of the Yosemite. 

We dined at two o'clock, and then rode 
leisurely down the Valley, gazing by 
daylight at the wonders we had previ- 
ously passed in the night. The spectaccle 
was immense, but I still think the moon- 
light view the more impressive. 

Our faithful beasts climbed the st«ep 
acclivity at a little more than the rate of 
a mile per hour, so that we had still an 
hour or two of sunshine before as as we 
stood at last on the summit I took a 
last long look into and up the Valley, 
with the sun still lighting up the greater 
portion of the opposite cliffs, and then 
turned my horse's head westward. We 
reached, at half past ten o'clock P. M., 
the rancho on the South Fork, kept by a 
solitary man, who has no neighbor nearer 
than sixteen miles, and there halted for 
the night. 



HE DID NOT SAY HE LOVED HER. — COUSIN NELL. 



209 



HB DID NOT SAY HE LOYBD HER. 



BT MS8. C. ▲. CHAJiBERLAUI. 



He did not saj be loved her ; 

But oft, with tender air, 
He brought her passion-breathing flowers 

That seemed love's tale to bear ; 
What right had she to trast in them, 

Or cherish them with care 7 

He did not say he loved her ; 

Yet, whatever was his theme, 
Lcve seemed aronnd his words to play, 

Like the music o*er the stream ; 
Aod the lovely young interpreter — 

She could not«choose but dream. 

Ue did not say he loved her ; 

Yet subtly, day by day, 
He round her wove his silken toils, 

That none might rend away ; 
And her young heart — ah I' that forgot 

For aught but him to pray I 

He did not say he loved her : 
And when, for pomp and power. 

He chose from lordly halls a bride. 
And left that cottage flower 

To perish in its first sweet bloom, 
Kone guess'd the spoiler's power. 

He did not say he loved her; 

And no broken vow confess'd. 
When the green earth took the weary child 

To her own tranquil breast. 
(), nature I kinder still than man, 

Our last friend, and our best 1 
Sacramento, Sept. IBth. 



COUSIN NELL. 



Br I>. N. D. 



The daj was drawing to m eloee, as 
after a long and tiresome ride tbroagh 
cities and rillages, open fields, and dark, 
tangled woods, my destination was final- 
ly reached. It was the place of my birth 
and early years, the place where mj 
Biother Btill lived — a mother I had not 
seen for five years— years thai bad chan- 



ged a country youth into a man of the 
world, had covered smooth cheeks with 
dark, heavy hair, bad given a more de- 
termined set to the eye, and maybe a 
little more hardened crust to the heart. 
California is a severe school ; she gradu- 
ates her followers rapidly, proficient in 
some lessons perhaps better unlearned. 
The time of wandering had been long 
and eventful, but it seemed annihilated, 
as through the glimmering and misty 
window of the car, I looked once more on 
those well-remembered scenes* First and 
most conspicuous, rose above the trees, 
the spire of the old meeting house, crown- 
ed by the tin weather-cock. Then came 
the store and post-office, and close by, the 
school house — still the same low, one 
story structure. Then through the mea- 
dow glided the brook, and the mill ooold 
not be a great way off. These things 
swept on my vision, and then came the 
whistle, the rough jarring of the brakes, 
and home was finally reached. The rain 
had been falling all day, and still contin- 
ued as I descended to the platform in 
front of the " station.'' The usual erowd 
of stragglers was housed, and the station- 
master, a stranger, was the sole one to 
receive me. I was not the sole one to 
•be received, however, as I learned on a 
second look. From the platform of the 
next car came a thin veil, brown travel- 
ing dress, and commendably small ankles 
and gaiters. The figure was neat, and 
interested me. Will she stop in this vil- 
lage? does she live here? who can she 
be? were enquiries my thoughts pot 
But they took a more worthy channel 
soon and centered on them. The station- 
keeper informed me there was no convey- 
ance of any kind to be had. This brought 
an exclamation of " Ob, dear 1 what shall 
I do?" from within the provokingly 
thick veil. 

" I don't know, ma'am," said the ofli- 
cial, "perhaps this gentleman mwj be 
going joor way and will help yon akng." 



210 



HUTCHING8' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



I offered my seryices instantaneously, 
and was rewarded by a low murmured 
" thank you." So leaving luggage to be 
sent for, we set off under an umbrella 
along the pathway that led to the vil- 
lage, the lady picking her way daintily 
along on those charming gaiters. Our 
conversation was very common-place ; my 
companion seemed disinclined to talk, 
and my own thoughts could not but be 
engaged by surrounding scenes and the 
near approach of home. We soon turned 
off on a road that led away from the 
village, my road as well as hers, and it 
was not long ere the tall poplars that 
shaded that roof hove in sight. What a 
welcome beacon I 

•* Oh dear I " again exclaimed my com- 
panion, " what a road I " True enough. 
One of those dear gaiters was drawn from 
a treacherous mud-hole in a pitiable con- 
dition. I remedied matters a little with 
a stick, and took greater care in piloting. 

One obstacle, apparently insurmount- 
able, was finally reached— a mud-hole 
the full width of the road ; it yawned 
threateningly and mysteriously. 

"Oh dear I" came the third time; 
"now we can right about and march 

back." 

" Not if you will allow me •— " I utter- 
ed, proceeding to reef my pants in bow- 
ery style. 

"Allow you to what, raise your pants?" 

"And yourself," I finished, then with- 
out waiting for positive permission, I 
lifted my fair companion in my arms, 
and plunged gallantly forward. My cap- 
dve submitted quietly, and the passage 
was effected safety, excepting to my 
boots, which were slightly muddied, and 
my heart a little discomposed. 

Not a word was said till the poplars 
were reached, and the little gate that 
opened into the small front yard. How 
thick the flowers used to be there in sum- 
Qiei« — ^the stately hollyhocks and sunflow- 
ers, the modest violets and rosy mari- 



golds — but now it was early spring, and 
everything was quite barren and drear. 

I was lamenting the necessity of pass- 
ing on with my eompanion, when she 
stopped, opened the gate, and commenced 
thanking me for my kindness, etc. 

The thought struck me that my mother 
must have moved, and the old homestead 
was occupied by strangers, as I ventured 
the enquiry, 

" Does Mrs. Day live here ? " 

" Yes ; will you walk in ? " 

" Thank you. You are acquainted with 
her ? " 1 asked, curious to know who the 
fair stranger might be. 

" She is my aunt, sir." 

" Your aunt ! " I burst out ; ''and yoa 
are my cousin 1 " 

" Your cousin I " came as wondrously. 
*' Who are you ? " and that confounded 
veil was dashed aside, and a pair of large, 
blue eyes stared at me a moment. And 
then, 

" Cousin Dan I " " Cousin Nell 1 " A 
warm embrace, and a pouting kiss com- 
pleted our introduction. 

From twelve to seventeen is a growing 
time, and transforms a girl into a woman. 
I had noted the changes time had pro- 
duced in me. It was not strange, that 
intimate as we had been in childhood, we 
met as strangers. But we were old friends 
now, and the little circle that gathered 
round a cosy tea-table that evening, was 
a happy one. Mother, Nell, and I. 
Mother had grown old some; wrinkles 
were deeper; gray hairs more numerous, 
but those deep, clear eyes shone with as 
much love as ever ; they were fixed on 
the long-absent one most, constantly. 
How often had they been raised to heaven 
in supplication for the wanderer — how 
often blended with tears, when letters were 
too long delayed, Gk>d knows, dear reader. 
I loved to gaze on them, and (ocoasion- 
ally) on those others, hidden under long 
ashes, at intervals coyly raised, and as 
suddenly drooped. 



COUSIN NBLL. 



211 



Nell had been quite silent since enter- 
ing the boase, and sud but litUe through 
the eTening, except when spoken to. 
Mother finally rallied her on her silence. 

** Nell, what is the matter? I never 
knew you to be so stupid. Left some 
**loTjer" behind? Perhaps Dan may 
an«wer as a substitttte." 

^'Yes, eooiiin, allow me to offer my 
humble serriceSf" I said. 

**I think you have proved yourself 
quite useful so far/' said Nellie, smiling, 
and thereupon she related our romantic 
jooraey from the cars. 

The evening, full of quiet happiness, 
e to a close. Fond good-night kisses 
those of mother's. Nellie simply 
offisred her hand. " Come," I said gent- 
ly drawing her towards me, '* this first 
nighty let us be children as of yore," and 
I pressed a kiss on the soft cheek that 
bloahed, unneceesarily, I thought. 



How the days and weeks flew — angel 
hoars, with angel-wings ! Spring came 
9a apeee, and the green sod, bright flow- 
era, and songs of birds, made almost an 
Sden. Glorious looked the little old 
homestead; the front yard was charming 
as ever, and the tall poplars seemed to 
stretch themselves with youthful vigor. 

Many a pleasant visit had I made 
around the neighborhood, receiving every- 
where a oordial welcome from the hon- 
est, untfopbisticated farmers. The haunts 
of my boyhood had been explored — the 
•efaool-hrtttse, and the meeting-house, with 
Bis square pews, and sounding-board. 
Bat all were as nothiog to home, mother, 
aod Nellie. Fur Nellie was still with 
«s — we would not let her leave. But it 
was not the Nellie of olden times — ^no 
nimping, and kissing, now — no, we were 
man and woman grown. On the con- 
trary, there was, at least on Nellie's 
part, a reserve towards me I could not 
explain. Scarcely one of her acquaint- 
ances that did not receive more smiles 



and chit-chit than myself. At first, I 
thought her disposition had undergone a 
complete revolution, and the gay girl be- 
come a semi-nun ; but at times, her old 
nature flashed out as bright as ever, libe- 
rated by excitement Then I became 
convinced she disliked me ; seldom was 
it we were alone together, and very brief 
were such tete-a-tetes. In presence of 
others, her conversation was never di- 
rected to me, and my questions received 
short replies. Yet, time and again, did 
I find those deep blue eyes fixed on me 
with a hesitating, longing gase, quickly 
removed on catching mine, and perhaps 
soon fluttering back. What glorious eyes 
she had! I finally spent my happiest 
moments watching them through the 
down-cast lashes. 

Earthly bliss never lasts long. The 
time drew near when I must plunge 
again into the maelstrom of life, and at 
the thought. Home, Mother, and Nellie, 
became more than ever precious. Must 
I leave them?^-could we not always live 
thus? — ^let the world go — here was my 
world. But one morning, Nellie told us 
she must leave, her visit had been much 
longer than she designed«-she could not 
stay any more. I awoke to a conscious- 
ness that, though she might be persuad- 
ed to linger a few days, I could not have 
her always with me, and without that I 
should be miserable I 

My feelings were in a sort of chaoa^ 
and I gased, I dare say, very stupidly al 
the fair speaker on the opposite side of 
the table — we were at breakfast — for 
mother spoke : 

'* Dan, what is the matter? Don't eat 
Nellie up 1" 

''I wish I could, mother," I burst 
forth, "if it would keep her with us." 

"I don't think it would, my son," she 
replied calmly, and with a half-smile; 
*'but there is another way" — 

" What — ^how ? " I exclaimed, eagerly. 

The smile deepened slowly on the be- 



212 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



nign oountenance. Nellie'e head hung 
low down, but, brow and cheeks were 
crimson. Slowly the state of affairs 
dawned on me. 

In a moment I was bending over the 
head that dropped still lower, asking 
softly, while my heart kept silence, 

"Will you stay, Nellie?" 



Nellie staid, dear reader ; staid, till in 
the little, old, square-pewed church, we 
stood up and promised to stay together 
all our lives. God grant we may i and 
when the time comes — go together 1 

CALIFORNIA GOLD. 

BT A. P. MOLITOR. 



Thb following valuable essay on Cali- 
fornia gold, originally appeared in the 
Alia California, but owing to its intrin- 
sic worth, for consultation and reference, 
we deem it desirable to depart from our 
usual custom and republish it in this 
work. 

INTRODUCTORT REMARKS. 

It is a curious fact that very few peo- 
ple, even in this, our Golden State, have 
any clear and distinct knowledge about 
the true nature of the metal by the magic 
power of which all of us have been at- 
tracted to this distant shore; which ev- 
erybody bandies, or at least vrishes and 
expects to handle, and which, no doubt, 
is the principal element, the soul — ^we 
would almost say, the God— of this fa- 
mous country of California. The hardy 
miner, though perhaps digging for years 
aftdr the glittering grains, generally 
knows little more about the natural prop- 
erties of the same than that he finas so 
many cents' worth in the bottom of his 
pan ; or, that he clears so many dollars a 
day; or, that he sells his "dusf for so 
many dollars and cents per ounce. The 
enterprising trader, in most cases, knows 
hardly more about his gold than that it 
came from this or that locality ; that he 

Eaid 80 much for it ; that, in consequence, 
e expects to gain at least two " bits " per 
ounce, and that something must be wrong 
somewhere if the returns should fall 



somewhat short of his calculation. Nay, 
even among that class of our population 
which is, or ought to be, imbued with a 
larger amount of general instruction* 
you will seldom meet a person that baa 
an accurate, substantial knowledge of 
the natural history of gold. Hence, ik 
arrives that so many absurd statements 
and descriptions, relating to gold or its 
exploration, make their appearance in 
the papers; this gives rise to so many 
wild theories about the ** origin of gold, 
about ''fountain heads" and "lakes" of 
gold ; to so many amusing stories about 
**big lumps of pure gold ; ' boulders and 
rocks quite " lousy with gold," 4sc., &c. 

For the purpose of throwing a little 
more light on tnis interesting and well 
deserving subject, this unassuming treat- 
ise has been written by one who, durin/; 
a series of years, had plenty of opportu- 
nity, and every facility to study the na- 
ture of the precious metal, theoretically 
as well as practically. It is, however, to 
be well understood that this woi^ being 
intended merely for popular Use, all 
lengthy details and scientifioal disquisi- 
tions about the geological formatioDS of 
the gold fields orCalifomia, or about the 
mineralogieal features of the same, or 
about the various ways and means^ of 
their exploration, must entirely fall with- 
out the range of our task. We intend 
to confine our observation principally to 
the shining metal after its extraction from 
its mother earth, and to accompany the 
same through all its phases of purifica- 
tion and valuation, until we see it arrive 
at its highest point of perfection, when 
assuming the shape of that most power* 
ful agent in our present state of civilisa- 
tion — money. 

qiNERAL CHARACTIRISTICS OF GOLD. 

Gold, by the ancient alchymists styled 
the king of metals — and till our epoch, 
the most precious of all of them— distin- 
guishes itself from the rest, when pure 
and unalloyed : 

1. By its deep yellow, or rather rich 
orange color, as lon^ as it remains cold 
and solid, but which color gradually 
changes into a bright green, when liquid 
or near the point of fusion. 

2. By its aptness to receive a most 
beautinil and resplendent polish. 

3. B^ its great density or heaviness, 
which IS 19 3-10 times greater than the 
weight of water. 



CALIFORNIA GOLD. 



213 



4. By its luunrpaMed daotilitj and 
nalleabilitj. 

5. Bt ita fanbiliiy at the 32d degree 
of Wedgwood's pyrometer, and its quick 
hardeninj; at a lower temperature. 

6. By its resistance to any acid-men- 
tfaraom, except a mixture of muriatic and 
nitric acids, called aqua regia, 

7. By its want of affinity for oxygen, 
wheaoe, if left alone, it never will get 
oxydixed, and only by artificial oombina- 
tion with other substances can pass into 
the state of an oxyde. 

Owing to the last mentioned peculiar- 
ity* gold is found in nature only in the 
metallic state. By reason of its infinite 
divaaibiUty, it may sometimes occur in 
•neb nunai» particles as to be inyisible 
to the naked eye ; but, in every instance, 
ft IS mechanically — never chemically — 
■ixed with its matrix: may this be 
foarts, pyrites, or whatever else. 

Another peculiarity of gold is, that it is 
Btfyer found in nature perfectly pure, but 
always contains a certain proportion of 
nlver, and sometimes a slight admixture 
of other metals, such as iron, tin, lead, 
Ae. The proportion of silver in the ni^ 
tiye gold vanes very much ; in fact, it 
■My be asserted that almost every degree 
of mixtore has been found between the 
two metals, litMn nearly fine gold, oon- 
laiaing some traces of silver, to stiver 

ntaining some traces of gold. 

Cot of this fact, which is generally ig- 

wed by the multitade, there arises the 
great variation in the value of the noble 
alloy. The lees the proportion of silver 
is the same, the finer, oroourse, in gold 
itwill be; and oonsequently the more val- 
nableu On the contrary, the more silver 
k eootains, the more it must decrease in 
gold, and consqnently in fineness and val- 



Qe. 



BOW foimn IN CALiffotsnA. 



Ia oar state the precious metal is found 
is the same mineral formations as in ev- 
ery other country where it exists. It Las 
ecareely been observed in any secondary 
JifrmaUon, but occurs in many instances, 
in its primitive state in leads or veins of 
qisarti: more seldom of some other gsn^ ; 
which lends we find again imbedded m 
duystaUine primary^ rocks or in eompad 
trtmsiHon rocks (serpentine trachi tic trap, 
etc,) of igneous origin. In most oases, 
however, the gold of this country occurs 
in allmfial grounds or drifl^Ms, prinoi pal- 
ly oompoeed of the dwris of tne forma- 



tions just mentioned. As a natoral se- 
quel, we always find our Gold more im- 
mediately accompanied by the same ores 
and mineral substences as met with in 
the gold mines of other countries. In its 
solid veins of quartz the precious metal 
sometimes occurs without any distinct 
satellite, but in most cases it is surround- 
ed either singly^r promiscuously by /roi»- 
CcmacT or Arsenical pyrites, by Galena 
(Sufph. of Lead)£2eiii(B, eU, In theoZJi*- 
vial sou it almost invariably is accompan- 
ied by Frotoxyde of Iron, commonly call- 
ed Black Sand, which probably is noth- 
ing else than pre^xistent Iron pyrites in 
a decomposed stete. Besides this, vari- 
ous sulpnurets and oxydes of other met- 
als ana metalloides, will b^ frequently 
found in our auriferous formations. Grains 
of native copper are of occasional occur- 
rence ; but in certain districte the shining 
grains and scales of a metalic substance 
composed of a group of the hardest and 
heaviest metels: Iridium, Platinium, 
Rhodium, Osmium, etc,, 6ccur in consider- 
able proportion, imparting to these gold 
fields the same feature as exhibited in the 
mining dtstricto of Siberia. 

This principally takes place in our 
northern mines, above Shasta, but most 
strikingly in the auriferous deposits on 
the northern coast, between Humboldt 
Bay and the Columlna river, where not 
less than one third of the precious metal 
washed out of the boaoh-sand consiste, 
on an average, of the above mentioned 
metallic combination, of which again 
about •one third consists of Platinum, 
the only valuable substance of the whole 

lot 

The beach just mentioned, being con- 
tinually exposed to the action of the tide 
of the Pacific Ocean, abounds in vast de- 
posito and layers of black sand, in which 
the roundish, fiat spangles of Gold and 
Iridio-platinum are imbedded. Nothing 
can be more gorgeous than some of this 
sand viewed through a microscope. The 
coriona eye will wander among huge 
blocks of quartz, splendid cubes and crys- 
tals of a^l shapes and colors: €ametSt 
AmMystSt Corindans^ Beryls^ Chryso- 
lites, etc., eto. — and here and there it 
will be startled by some big chunk of 
glittering gold, or some heavy slab of 
shining Flatina. 

VATOKAL 8HAPI8 OF CALirORKlA GOLO. 



The most appropriate general 
cation of Gold in thia country, ia the pop- 



214 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



ular one, into Quartz-Oold and Flacer- 
Gold, 

In its Quartz veins Gold always occurs 
irregularly distributed, mostly in loose 
parSeles, hidden in holes and clefts of 
the chrystalline mass, which in most 
cases, were originally filled with pyrites 
and oxydes, after the decomposition of 
which, the unalterable precious metal 
was left behind in spangles or flakes of 
various shapes or sizes. Sometimes it is 
found firmly imbedded in the compact 
rock, in which form it is eagerly sought 
after by lapidaries of our city, and work- 
ed up by them into all sorts of elegant 
jewelry articles. Both kinds of aurife- 
rous quarU are sometimes met with in 
one and the same lead. 

More seldom quartz-gold is found in 
the shape of thin leaves, cleaving to the 
sides of occasional crevices in the rock ; 
still more seldom in continuous veins or 
threads, branching out in every direction ; 
and most seldom in its crystalline form, 
exhibiting a series of octahedral crystals 
of more or less perfection. 

For those places in the leads where 
gold is found accumulated in considerable 
quantities, the California miner has in- 
vented the graphic name of pockets; quartz 
containing no gold at all, he calls just as 
pointedly dead rock. 

It is the capricious dissemination of 
gold through its gang, which makes 
the working of quartz mines so very pre- 
carious. Veins of most other metals 
may be worked for many years with a 
sure prospect of a constant yield; but 
the owner of the richest quartz-ledge can 
never be sure whether his source of treas- 
ure will last for many days, or come to a 
sadden end only a few feet deeper. Such 
a calamity is more to be dreaded in veins 
containing rich pockets, with intervals 
of dead quartz between, than in rock 
through which the precious metal is more 
equalfy distributed, even if in very mi- 
nute and almost microscopic particles. 

Auriferous quarts has to be crushed to 
powder in stamping miUs, of various con- 
struotion, or by arasir<u and other works 
more or less fit for the purpose, before 
the ^Id can be extracted, which gei^er- 
ally IS done by amalgamation with Quick- 
silver. After the evaporation or the 
mercury, the amalgam-gold mostly ap- 
pears in the bullion market in lumps of 
various sizes, moulded according to the 
shape of the retort, or vessel in which 



the process of evaporation had been per- 
formed; but frequently, also, in loose, ir- 
regular fragments of such lumps. Some- 
times, however, it is formed into the 
shape of Jlai cakes or balls, which is 
mostly done by the Mexican miner. 

In the alluvial grounds, commonly call- 
ed Placers, by far the greater part of Cal- 
ifornia gold is found. It is extracted 
from the surrounding dirt, partly by ac- 
tion of water, partly by quicksilver, and 
goes by the common term of Gold-dustf 
though not often occurring in such a fine 
state of disintegration as to warrant this 
generally adopted name. 

Placer gola having invariably and 
through a great length of time been sub- 
jected to the mechanic action of water, 
appears in most cases in lumps and grains 
or various sizes, with their edges and 
sides rounded or ground off, to a certain 
extent. These ^ains, although general- 
ly of the most diversified shapes, show in 
certain localities a kind of family like- 
ness, so that an experienced eye often is 
able to designate the place where a parcel 
of gold hails from, by the particular ap- 
pearance of the "dust" 

In many locations, especially on river 
banks or bars, these grains are almost of 
a uniform size, small, thin, and round- 
ish, very much of the shape of small fish 
scales (scale gold). In otner cases they 
are more thick and plump, sometimes 
approaching the form of melon seeds, 
beans, etc. (shot gold). But most com- 
monly they are irregularly rough, with 
all sorts of holes, wrinkles and creases 
on their surface, which not seldom are 
filled with earthy particles, clay, small 
bits of quartz, and the like. Sometimes 
the grains are partly or entirely covered 
with oxydes, imparting to them, in many 
cases, a fake ana deceptive coloring. 

In certain places the gold grains ex- 
hibit an eminetitly crystcUline formation. 
Single perfect octahedrons, with more or 
less worn off corners, are very scarce; 
but specimens with some crystallio sides 
and edges, or groupings of imperfect 
crystals, are of more irequent occurrence. 
The rarest and most beautiful of all gold 
specimens, however, are those of dendritic 
(tree-like) construction, being composed 
of minute crystallic spangles, and fash- 
ioned in such a way as to imitate almost 
a vegetable-like grovrth. 

In other places, namely, in the south- 
em district of our mines, on the rivers 



CALIFORNIA GOLD. 



215 



Fresno mnd Chowchilla, the precious met- 
al frequently occurs in elongated fibre^ or 
mtedSe^hapei grains, owing probably to 
•ome previous admixture or lead. By 
the beautiful appearance and seemingly 
Tery rich color of this sort of dust, many 
an unlucky gold dealer has come to harm, 
this being one of the coarsest kind of 
gold in the State, on account of the great 
proportion of silver it contains. 

VAUATION or QUALITy, OR FINENESS. 

About five Tears ago, a gold specimen 
of the sixe of a man's hand, found some* 
where in the neighborhood of DownievilU 
(aiseording to the statement of the depos- 
itor), was assayed in the laboratory of the 
Ute firm of IFofft, Molitor dh 60,, and 
foand to be 992 thous. fine. This was 
quite an unique case; but gold of above 
970 thous. fineness has been frequently as- 
sayed in this city. On the other side 
the gold from the Kern river mines con- 
tains such a large proportion of silver, as 
to be almost identical with the EUetrum 
of the ancients, or the Zaroehe of the Mex- 
icans, which means, a metal consisting 
<«f about half and half, silver and gold. 
Between these two extremes all de- 
grees of mixture of the two metals have 
beea found In this country. The experi- 
eaee of several years shows, however, 
that 885 thous. would be about the me- 
dium fineness of California gold, to which 
it most be added, that by far the greater 
part of the whole gold produce seems to 
group itself, in regard to fineness, close 
around the above average figure. On the 
Ttrtiie of this statement we may sav, 
therelbre, that the greatest part of the gold 
of thisoountry ranges, as a rule, between 
140 and 9^ thous. fineness, and that all 
cases exceeding these limits may be re- 
gafdod as exceptions to the general rule. 

It is impoesiDle, even to the most prao- 
tissd eye, to determine the quality or any 
known sort of gold dust by merely 
lookinr at the same, and even in judging 
a wsUluiown description of dust, the pur- 
ehadsr may deceive himself very easily, 
to his own damage* The gold may, for 
instanrm, by some natural accident, pos- 
ses a richer oolor than entitled to by its 
quality; or it may be taken for a superi- 
er kind of gold, on account of the snape 
of its grains, which may be similar to 
so— known dost of good C|uality; or, it 
may be mixed with some inferior gold, 
either with or without an intention to 



defraud the buyer; or adulterated in 
some way or another; and so on. 

Even the knowledge of the r(*gion, or 
^Id field, from where a certain descrip- 
tion of gold originated is not always a 
sure evidence of its quality. Nobody can 
depend on it, that the gold taken out of 
one and the same flat, hill, bar, or even 
the same claim^ or ouartz lead, will al- 
ways be the same, very often the most 
astonishing differences in this regard are 
found within comparatively short dis- 
tances. Thus, there are quartz leads 
with very low gold, surrounded by pla- 
cers famous for the fineness of their metal; 
and on the contrary, veins with very rich 
metal in the vicinity of diggings not 
much renowned for the superior quality 
of their ^old crops. 

There is, in fact, only one sure method 
to determine the fineness, and consequent- 
ly the exact value of the precious metal, 
and that is the regular metallurgic pro- 
cess of assaying, after the previous meU- 
ing of the dust into a bar, or ingot. 

riNXNxss or gold in different digginos. 

As a conclusion to this work, we are 
going to make some remarks on the fine- 
ness of gold found in various localities of 
the great Pacific gold district, taking all 
the data from our own experience. 

1. Gold cominit from British ColufMa 
or the Frazer River mines, generally 
ranges between 840 and 860 thous. fine> 
ness. In some oases it was found as low 
as 820 ; in others, some thous. above 860; 
but these may be considered as excep- 
tions to the rule. It mostly appears in 
our market as coarse lumps of amalgam 
gold, and suffers an average loss of 10 
per cent, by melting. 

2. The average fineness of dust from 
the OM Beach, above and below Bort 
Orford, (Oregon), is 880 thous. The 
gold dust appears throughout in fine 
scales, and is extracted from the sand 
and accompanying minerals, including 
Iridio-Platinum, chiefly by amalgama- 
tion. 

3. The gold which finds its way to this 
place principally by Crescent City, and 
therefore has been worked chiefly on the 
Klamath River and its tributaries, sel- 
dom exceeds 880 fine, and seldom de- 
scends below 850. The average fineness 
of the same would be, therefore, 865. In 
this district we include the counties Del 
Norte^ Klamath and Siskiyou^ and the 



316 



nUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



adjoining southern border-tract of Ore- 
gon. This gold mostly appears in coarse 
and heavy grains, and sometimes contains 
a considerable admixture of Iridium. 

4. The placers on Trinity River and 
on the western tributaries of the upper 
Sacramento^ belonging to Trinity and 
Shasta counties, seem in general to yield 
a better quantity, and we may safely put 
the average 10 thous. higher than under 
the previous number. Some dust from 
the neighborhood of WeaverviUe shows 
the fineness of above 900 thous. 

5. Feather River gold shows an ave> 
age fineness of 890, and most frequentlv 
occurs in very regularly shaped and al- 
most uniform grams or scales. 

6. Gold on the north Jorks of the Tuba 
is generally much finer than the above, 
in many cases going up as high as 950, 
and seldom below 900. We don't think 
to be far off the mark if we put the av- 
erage of the same at 920. This dust is 
also mostly of a scaly description, and a 
great deal of it appears in market as 
amalgam gold. We have before men- 
tioned, that the very finest specimen of 
gold that we know of was found in the 
neighborhood of DovoniemUe. 

7. On the south fork of the Yuba the 

Sineral fineness seems again to decrease, 
round Nevada placer ^Id seldom shows 
more than 880 thous. JThe quartz gold 
from the various veins of Grass Valley 
ranges between 800 and 850, and may be 
put down at 820 thous. average fineness. 

8. On the north and middle forks of 
the American River, gold is again rising 
in fineness, especially in the diggings 
aroand Aubumf approaching here the 
figare of 900 thous. 

9. On the south fdrk of the same river, 
in the vicinity of the towns of Coloma 
and PlacerviUe, the fineness of the dust 
varies very much. Coloma gold seldom 
ranges above 890, and generally comes 
nearer to 870. But in the neighborhood 
to PlacerviUe, the gold rises in most 
cases up to 900, and in some places there- 
about, still much higher. At Coon EoU 
low a peculiar kind of dust, of a dark, 
msty appearance, is found, which is over 
940 thous. fine. 

10. In Amador county, around Dry- 
imon, Jackson and Volcano, the fineness 
of gold 18 rather below the general aver- 
age of 885. 

11. In Caiavercu county, great varie- 
ties occnr in this respect. Mokdumne 



Hill gold is seldom above 890 ; San An- 
dres averages 890 ; Campo Seco, 905 ; 
VaUeeUo rises up to 910-920. 

12. Tuolumne is the county most re- 
nowned for the fineness of its gold. So- 
nera and Columbia dust seldom falls be- 
low 900, and often rises above 950. The 
average ma^ be marked down at 930 
thous. This gold is generally rough 
and coarse grained, and of a very rich 
color. 

13. In the adjoining county, Maripo- 
sa, the fineness of the precious metal 
decreases very sensibly ; the average can 
scarcely be put higher than 850 thous. 
The fineness of the Merced Mining Com- 
pany's quartz gold is about 820 thous. 

14. Still farther south, on the upper 
San Joaquin and its first tributaries, the 
rivers Chowchilla and Fresno, the fineness 
of the gold falls below 800, and some- 
times even as low as 700 thous. This 
dust consists generally of diminutive 
spangles of a treacherously rich appear- 
ance, intermixed with curiously elongatr 
ed, almost needle-shaped grains. 

15. The lowest decree in the fineness 
of gold in this State, is found in the most 
southern parts on the diggings of Kei n 
river and its numerous branches. This 
dust gold seldom reaches above 700, and 
oflen falls down to near 600 thous. The 
average fineness of the same may be fix- 
ed at 660 thous. 

16. Carson Valley dust, on the eastern 
slope of the Sierra Nevada, although 
beautiful to the eye, is also exceedinglj 
low — ^generally below 800 thous. 

17. OUa and Colorado river gold, which 
finds its way to this city in small quanti- 
ties, is of a very fine description, with 
grains similar to Australia gold. Some 
parcels of it have shown the fineness of 
above 970 ; others fell below 920 thous. 

The foregoing statements about the 
fineness of different sorts of gold dust 
which make their appearance in our 
market, have to be considered merely as 
approximative, and based on the experi- 
ence of only one private assay office in 
this city. It would be rather a difficult 
task to collect more precise statistical 
data in this matter, as the gold is bought 
up in the mining towns and camps most- 
ly in small quantities, from miners dig- 
ging and working in all directions around 
the trading post, and afterwards deposit- 
ed for assay in larger lots of a generally 
mixed description. Besides this circam- 



MY HOME. — DRAWING THE LONG BOW. 



217 



stance, the depositor himself sometimes 
is littl0 ioelined to name the particular 
place where his duat la coming from, be- 
ug, perhapa, jealous of opposition, es- 
pedalljif tnegold be of a superior quality. 

MY HOME. 



BT O. T. BPROAT. 



Mine is not a ball of marble, 

Built hj some proud lord of old, 
Glittering in the gorgeous sunlight 

With barbaric gems and gold ; 
Where the crimson rays are flashing 

On the tesselated floors, 
And the festal song is pealing 

Through the loftj corridors. 

Tis a cottage in a valley, 

With broad meadows girt around ; 
Nestling in the elm trees' shadow, 

And with trailing roses crowned. 
There, in spring, the blue-eyed violets 

Early rising burst the sod ; 
There look up the summer lilies, 

Smiling in the face of God. 

There, all day, three white- winged angels 

Through that dwelling gently rove, 
Ever whispering, ever singing 

Words of comfort — words of love. 
Oh I with these, my home is lovelier 

Than the palaces of Kings ; 
All my cup o*erfloira with blessings, 

And my heart leaps up and sings. 

Beantifol the morning shineth 

On me with these angels there, 
AAd (he gentle evening closeth 

With its anthem and it prayer. 
And a holy calm comes o'er me, 

And a blessing falls on me ; 
Tia reflected all around me, 

Ob each flower, and bird, and tree. 

Love, and Joy, and Peace — ^thBte angels 

Ever there upon me wait, 
Dwelling with me and my loved ones, 

In our lowly cottage gate. 
Ob I with these, I am rich past telling ; 

All I ask is freely given — 
Heaven Is with me here already — 

All beyond me, too, is heaven. 



DRAWING THE LONG BOW. 
A Naval Reminiscence, 



BT ROLLING STOIOU 

Few who have read Gapt. Marryat'a 
"Peter Simple," but will recollect Capt. 
Kearney, the lying commander of one of 
the ships which Peter served in, — the au- 
dacious falshoods which he had been in 
the habit of telling, until by a sort of 
idiosyncrasy, he in a manner believed 
them himself — his wonderfully inoonsiat- 
ent habit of constantly inculcating the 
necessity of truth upon the minds of his 
juniors, and his final death with the 
same moral advice given to those around 
him, and then with his last breath utter- 
ing possibly his very greatest lie. 

The characters in Marryat's nautical 
novels are almost all taken from life, and 
the leading ones are many of them re- 
cognizable by officers in the naval service 
of Great Britain; that of Captfun Kearney 
is understood by the naval service gene- 
rally, or at least by a number of officers 
of old atanding, to be a somewhat exag^ 
gerated expose dF a well known and gal- 
lant officer, whose conduct in all other 
respects was most exemplary, and who 
was one of the highest ornamente of hia 
profession. 

It is singular that although the career 
of the late Sir John R — of Arctic notorie- 
ty, afforded ample material for the narra- 
tion of extraordinary adventures, and 
that with the strictest adherence to fact, 
yet that world known man, had imbibed 
a habit of exaggeration and even of inven- 
ting fictions which militated mnch againat 
his interests; and which indeed waa prob- 
ably the cause of his being laid on Ihe 
ahdfhj bis government, instead of being 
employed on those further voyages of dia- 
covery which were afterwards projected. 

A statement of some of these really 
wonderful vicissitudes that he experi- 
enced in hiB earlier life may be interaat- 
ing. 



218 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



John K , acquired a thorough know- 
ledge of his profession at a very early age, 
and amongst other places became well 
acquainted with the navigation of the 
Firth of Forth and a portion of the North 
Sea. 

Subsequently he entered the service of 
the East India Company, and rose to the 
rank of third officer in one of their trad- 
ing ships. 

In those days the many perquisites al- 
lowed, and the many opportunities to 
trade which were afforded to their officers 
by the company, (who then possessed 
the entire monopoly of the East India 
traffic), rendered the pofaition of third 
officer in their employ worth some 2 to 
3000 dollars per year. 

At that time and for many years after 
John R was a single man ; not so his 
brother James, who with a wife and 
young family, an inaptitude for busi- 
ness, and improvident habits, seemed to 
be continually struggling out of one diffi- 
culty just to fall into another. 

The father of the writer of this article, 
was once his partner, for some seven or 
eight weeks only, in the wholesale wine 
trade, and during that short time sunk 
some $10,000, winding up with a docket 
of bankruptcy. 

John R . arrived home from the 

East Indies and China, shortly after a 
failure of his brother's which had left 
him and his family in actual want. 

The act of the sailor on that occasion 
was an example of fraternal love and in- 
considerate generosity, which is seldom 
to be found save in those possessed like- 
wise of indomitable energy and extraor- 
dinarily great mental as well as animal 
courage. From James' representations, 
he believed that his brother could again 
be placed in a position to maintain his 
family, and recover his losses, if a cer- 
tain not very large sum of money was 
forthcoming. The whole of this sum 
John R had not at command, but 



with him to think was to decide, to jde- 
cide was to act. Within twenty-four 
hours he had sold his large stock of 
clothes, his uniforms, instruments, books, 
rings, watch and chain, and even his col- 
lection of Indian curiosities, which he 
greatly valued, had drawn his pay, dis- 
posed also of the merchandise he had 
brought home on his recent voyage, and 
placed the proceeds in his brother's hands. 

''Take it, James," said he, "it will 
help you and yours. I have a profession 
and can work up again. I can not be 
floored as long as I have health." 

John R retained £10, (about $50), 

and walked down to Woolwich, ten miles 
from London ; he there purchaped a fore- 
mast seaman's limited outfit of strong, 
servicable clothing, and shipped as an 
able seaman, on board the ten gun brig- 
of-war, the Wasp, bound for a cruise in 
the North Sea. 

After cruising for some time, and when 
well to the northward a fearful gale came 
on. The ten gun brig (coffins, they used 
te be called,) was thrown on her beam- 
ends, and only righted, half full of water, 
after the mainmast had been cut awaj. 
In the performance of this service, the 
sailing master met with an acoident 
which completely disabled him, and he 
was carried below. The Captain and 
Lieutenants were but very little acquaint- 
ed with North Sea navigation, so that the 
accident to the master was a very seri- 
ous matter — a crippled ship, a northeast- 
erly hurricane, a lee shore, and ignore 
ance of the localities on the part of the 
officers, placed the ship, indeed, in an 
extremely precarious situation. 

At this time, the Captain had all 
hands called aft, by the boatswain, and 
asked if any man was thoroughly ac- 
quainted with the Firth of Forth, and 
could pilot the ship to a safe anchorage. 

John R stepped forward, and said, 

that having served years on the ground, 
he knew it well, and could do so. 



LIFE SCULPTURE. 



219 



Gaptua having noticed the bold- 

actiTity and intelligence of R 



when the brig was on her beam-enda, af- 
ter a few more questions told him to con- 
ader himself in charge of the yessel as 
pilot 

John R gave the course, ordered a 

light jary-mask to be got up with all 
speed, and in a few moments, as the cap- 
tain aAerwards described it, showed that 
he was one of those men formed by na- 
ture to command. 

It was a fearful night ; the position of 
the brig was not certainly known by sev- 
eral miles : but by an approximate lati- 
tude, gained by a momentary glimpse of 
the polar star, a quick eye and a steady 
nerve, the Firth was entered. Nine ves- 
ieia were lost the same night, at or near 
the entrance of the Firth of Forth. 

The next day found H. M. Brig Wasp 
•sfely at anchor in Leith Roads, where 
Ibe admiral of the station was. 

Captain sent for John R , and 

with great delicacy drew from him a 
■ketch of his life, and the reason of his 
being in his present humble sphere. 
Tbenoe the captain proceeded to the ad- 
miral, and on his return again summon- 
ed him to his cabin. Captain at 

<Aee offered to place him on the quarter- 
<leck as midshipman ; but at the same 
time, told him he would, after a necessa- 
ry examination, have an acting order as 
iieoteaant, as the second lieutenant wish- 
ed to invalid. Of course the* examina- 

tico was nothing to John R , who 

W paMad a much severer one when in 
the service of the East India Company. 

For the following six years he was on- 
ly a pa9$ed midshipman, and ineligible 
fiif promotion, but during that time he 
*f9et perjormed mid*hipm€tn*» duty, nor 
joined the yoang gentlemen's mess — ^he 
had wtadc ki$ mark, and was moved from 
•hip to ship, with acting Lieutenant's 
orders, until the period required by the 
rales of the service had elapsed, when 



he was immediately promoted. In no 
other case was such a thing ever known. 

Two or three years after that, the Ad- 
miralty had, in one month, six applica- 
tions from Captains, appointed to ships, 

each one requesting that John R 

might be appointed as his first Lieuten- 
ant, so highly was his ability appreciated. 
Indeed, throughout his early naval ca- 
reer, John R was continually on ao- 
tive service; in action, in boarding, in 
cutting out, or in the performance of oth- 
er dangerous duties, he was always the 
first and most daring. He was many 
times wounded, and that was the only 
claim he had, together with his conduct, 
to promotion ; and his claim was allowed 
even in those days of favoriteism, though 
he had neither Parliamentary or family 
interest at the Admiralty. 

From step to step he progressed, and, 
in all probability, but for the failing be- 
fore adverted to, would have held the very 
first position amongst Arctic Discoverers. 

Many have been examples to their fel- 
low men, and have achieved greatness, 
but the reader must rest assured that 
there can be no greater stumbling-block 
in the way of fame and honor, than the 
foolish — nay, culpable practice of Dkaw- 

INO THB LOKG BoW. 

LIFE SCULPTURE. 



BT MARIA BARBBB. 



** Seolptora of life are we, m we etand, 
With oar eoolf nncarred before nt, 

WaltiDf ttie how when, at God*e eonuBSod, 
Our UfeHtream ehall paae o'er as. 

If we eanre It then, on the jleMlnf etooe, 

WIUi maoy a eharp locMon, 
Ite hearenl/ beaatjr shall be oar own. 

Oar llres, that aogel-Ttolon.** 

As I stood wondering why man was 
plaoed upon this world, a sleeping rision 
of beauty appeared, floating upon a wave 
of Time, attended by an angel, bearing 
upon her left an unpolished gem, or 
lifiHitODe» known to mortals as the Soul. 



220 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



Those heavenly eyes were melting into 
dewy Bofbness as she lefl with the sleeper 
her priceless gifl. Pearly tear-drops 
shone amid the wavy ringlets, christen- 
ing the babe a " Sculptor/' whose mission 
was to carve this life-block and beautify 
with our Father's gifts the Soul. An 
unseen radiance left dimpling smiles 
chasing each other over the face of Inno- 
cence, and tiny hands nervously grasped 
after the angel-vision that vanished I 

The immortal artist is attended both 
by seraphs of Light and angels of Dark- 
ness, through a sphere filled with the 
spirits and demons of two worlds ; and 
when Death gives to dust its stray atoms, 
the victor will bring before the angelic 
throng an unpolished, shapeless mass of 
deformity, that reflects no saving light, 
or a carved, transparent gem, made lim- 
pid by the light of Heaven. 

The infantile Sculptor totters forward 
at the first faint rays proceeding from 
the internal light, Knowledge, when the 
star of Reason rises, revealing to him a 
life-model, perfect and symmetrical in 
every feature, carved from an earthly 
nature for the diadem of Heaven, or an 
opaque gem fitted for the crown of Mis- 
ery and Death, and worn by the Prince 
of Darkness. As these two models rise 
before the Sculptor, Faith sees in the one 
a reflection of the great original proto- 
type, of which man is a faint shadow, 
and in the other a fearful spectre of the 
evil one that beguiled the heirs of Heaven. 
While beholding these two types of 
life, the Sculptor's eye brightens with 
pleasure, as he sees his ideal model por- 
trayed in the first ; and joyfully does he 
beautify, with his glorious gifts, Knowl- 
edge and Genius, the life-block — not with 
the bold, triumphant strokes of a master 
workman, but tremblingly, and with fear, 
as an humble apprentice, who feels that 
even a life-service may fail to transcribe 
the beauties of this heavenly model. 
Infant years endow the babe with bold- 



ness and strength ; dimpling smiles, baby 
cooings, and innocent, artless prattlings, 
chisel their semblance of beauty and 
sweetness upon childish features. Hope, 
fancy, and memory steal from the divine- 
ly sculptured model its boldest angles, 
and most graceful curves, blending them 
in wild confusion, till the artist knows 
not his master-stroke, whether 'tis seen 
in the dimpled track of the smile, the 
quivering of the delicately chiseled lip, 
or in the flash of the eye, dispensing the 
wildest joy, or the deepest ^rrow. 

From the pleasing yet laborious trials 
of infancy the happy youth steps forth 
into Lhe arena, with a magical Sculptor, 
Thought, as his assistant — an Artist that 
inhales the essence of etherial life, drinks 
of the mysteries of creation, bathes in 
the ocean's liquid depths, rests upon its 
foaming billows, and roams through a 
shoreless space upon lightning flashes 
stolen from the thunder-bolt, to behold 
the world a Statuary Receptacle, filled 
with deformed, virtueless statues of Ig- 
norance, and with noble master-pieces of 
Wisdom. 

By this magician, baby innocence, del- 
icate beauty, and childish sympathy, are 
transformed into emotions of untold earn- 
estness; careless glee and delight into 
enthusiastic wants and desires, which, 
like sand grains, wear away the jutting 
points left upon this life-jewel 1 

His bold, rapid strokes, retain the gay 
fancies of early childhood and the wild 
longings of strengthened boyhood, cloth- 
ing their bright, fantastic shapes, in the 
sober garb of truth, till the manly face 
is beautiful with the light of love, and 
more heavenly in its expression as it is 
tinged with the softer glow of virtue. 

The Sculptor gazes, entranced, up>0Q 
this higher beauty. He beholds the eye, 
radiating the steady light of knowledge, 
in its softened, though none the less bril- 
liant flashings; the curling lip, firmly 
compressed, trembling anon with honor 



MY PHILOSOPHY. 



221 



ud pride, or with loachiog and contempt; 
the infant brow, where once sported onlj 
joy and sorrow, now placidly serene from 
the delicate pencilings of Thought, who 
has engraved npon it the seal of man- 
hood. 

The beaaUfal vision that left a gift 
vith the passive babe, became invisible 
in the dream-light of its sleeping world, 
bat ever hovered near the prattling boj, 
and though tfal child, and was caught up 
bj manhood. 

The angeMream, that left flitting shad- 
ows chasing each other o'er the smiling 
babe, b carved into the perfect man, and 
reflected as the image of the Supreme 
lATisible, whose only form is wisdon, 
goodnces, holiness, love, mercy and truth. 

Heaven's lost treasure has been borne 
bj the tides of life down the stream of 
time, now concealed from the loving gaze 
ud watchful care of that Guardian Spirit 
UiAt launched it forth upon a surf-beaten 
•tread ; and again, led onward midst the 
fo7 and angry strifes of a more stormy 
life-seat ^U manhood is wrecked, and 
the dust-casket broken. 

Bending o'er the sinking mariner, Old 
Age, is an angel form, watching the rend- 
ing of the silken chain that binds the 
iflunortal soul to earth, and, as soon as 
the last link is broken, that winged 
Hrmph speeds heavenward, bearing the 
fited amd to angel keeping, where, in 
eoniciotta beauty, it rests till the Divine 
SaUpior declares it "FBRncrl" 

MY PHILOSOPHY. 



Dnl gently with the world, my friend, 

If Urns thon'det have it deal with thee ; 
Spenk nobly of its honest worth, 

Bat of its faults — ^in charity. 
Uok on its brighter side to-dsy, 

There's time enongh to grieve to-morrow; 
^us discontent and mnrmnring by, 

And smile at grief and langh at sorrow. 



II. 

When gloomy cynics growl and f^, 

And say the world is full of woe, 
Why, don't believe them, they are false, 

And not the world — so let them go. 
The earth Is full of love and truth — 

Bright Friendship sparkles everywhere. 
There's not a day but brings some good 

To hearts deserving of a share ! 

III. 

The man's a fool who mocks at life 
And calls it bat a fleeting breath, 

Yet looks to find a happiness 

) I Beyond the gloomy shades of death ; 

The soul that finds no pleasure here — 
No joy in aught that God has given 

To bless the lifo He gave to man — 
Would grumble in the courts of Heaven ! 

IV. 

I doubt the wisdom of the man 

Who, proving all things in the past. 
Held fast to nothing, good or bad, 

And said << all's vanity" at last. 
A thousand better thoughts than that, 

Are whispered every day and hour 
By Nature's Universal Voice, [flower * 

That speaks through forest, field and 

V. 

The passing and the changing ills 

That flit across our sunlight skies. 
And nerve oar hearts to noble deeds, 

Are naught bat blessings in disguise. 
Were earth all fair — mankind all trne— 

And all hearts free from care and woe-^ 
Were all seals sinless here, my friend, 

'Twere not a virtue to be so t 

VI. 

So then, hurrah I for Life and Love I 

Hurrah for earth I just as it is — 
Its Joys and griefs, its hopes and fears. 

Its yearly, daily, hoorly bliss I 
Let every ft-lendly heart rejoice. 

Let no one list a mnrm*ring breath ; 
Hurrah for Life 1 — while yet we live— 

And then ? — why, then hurrah for Death I 






224 



HUTCHINOS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



With this brother, however, Mrs. Har- 
rison had not been on the most affection- 
ate terms ; indeed, it may be said they 
had cordially hated each other. This 
estrangement had arisen from constant 
disagreements between her brother's wife 
(an ambitious parvenu,) and herself. 
Mrs. Harrison had, indeed, mortally of- 
fended her brother by refusing to present 
his wife at the Royal Drawing-room after 
his marriage ; desiring him to find some 
other to perform the humiliating office 
of presenting so vulgar a person at court. 
For many years, therefore, little or no 
intercourse had been maintained between 
the families, and Admiral Harrison's 
three sons had no personal knowledge of 
their wealthier relations. 

George's mother had, however, been 
dead many years at the period of which 
we are now writing, and his father, who 
had been a bon vivani of the olden time, 
was now far advanced in years, and from 
his generous, not to say extravagant man- 
ner of living, had greatly reduced the 
fortune which he had obtained by his 
marriage. 

A hundred pounds a year, to each, was 
consequently all the allowance that the 
Admiral could now afford to make to his 
sons. The eldest of these, however, had 
attained the rank of Major in the British 
army, and was on staff employment in 
England, whilst the second was a Cap- 
tain in an infantry regiment, stationed in 
the West Indies. 

George Harrison had been educated at 
Eton, and, after leaving that seminary, 
had been for twelve months in London, 
awaiting his commission, which his fath- 
er had obtained the promise of. Being 

at length appointed to the 1 Regiment, 

he was stationed within a few miles of 
the metropolis ; and even after the em- 
barkation of his corps for America, he 
was retained some months at the Dep6t 
in England, until he was finally shipped 
off in charge of a number of recruits to 
join the Regimental Head Quarters. 



During his stay in and near London, 
the violent discussions at this time arising 
in the House of Commons, on the sub- 
ject of the American rebellion, bad great- 
ly interested him. His father being a 
member, he had constant admission to 
the House, and he had, from the debates 
he there heard, and other sources, grad- 
ually formed opinions decidedly favorable 
to the Americans, but which he dare not 
hint to his father, a stern and somewhat 
fanatical Royalist. 

Having premised this much, we will 
return to our tale. 



CHAPTER II. 

The Battle, — Female Beauty, 

" Though far and near the ballets hiss, 
IVe 'scaped a bloodier hour than this.** 

Btioh. 

"Herhalr, 

In ringlets rather dark than fair. 
Does down her Ivory bosom roU, 
And, hiding half, adorns the whole."— Paiom. 

A few days subsequent to the convex^ 
sation between Captain Hartley and Har- 
rison, above related, preparations were 
commenced by the British Commander- 
in-chief for evacuating Philadelphia, and 
marching to New York. On the 18th of 
June he finally quitted the former place, 
and as the last of the Royalist troops de- 
filed from the town, the Americans came 
flocking into it. 

Washington, on hearing of the British 
movements, had quitted Valley Forge, 
and, having been joined by the New Jer- 
sey militia, overtook the rear of Sir Uen-> 
ry Clinton's army and brought them to 
battle near Monmouth. 

To risk a general action, with bis lim- 
ited and badly equipped force, was con* 
trary to the general able policy of the 
American Commander-in-chief, and which 
was to harass the enemy only, bo as to 
inflict, at small cost of blood to them- 
selves, the greater injury upon the Roy« 
alists. The attack wa;i, however, al>ly 
conceited, but owing to the iU-judged 
conduct of General Lee, (who had op> 



AGNES EMERSON. 



225 



poMd the idea of a pitched battle), the 
oeaal eacceee of General Washington 
did not, in this case, attend him. 

Both tides have always, hitherto, claim- 
ed the advantage; and certain it is, that 
the loas on the side of the British was 
the heavier of the two, being, by official 
retoros of Sir H. Clinton, 513; whilst, 
on the other hand, the forces under his 
eoounand continued their march to New 
York, without a renewal of the combat. 

Soeh being the facts, and without re- 
ferring further to the different opinions 
of historians, we can leave the readers to 
form their own conclusions on the point, 
from the facts stated, merely remarking 
that the British officers present always 
allowed that but for General Lee's beha- 
vior, at the commencement of the battle, 
the Americans would have had occasion 
to eoogratulate themselves on a much 
gveater success. 

It was when the ground lost by Lee, 
was being partially recovered by General 
Washington, that George Harrison re- 
cdved a musket ball in the shoulder, 
which seriously shattered the collar bone. 
Ib tliia state he was removed in the bag- 
gage train to New York. The jolting, 
and other inconveniences to which he 
was snbjected on the transit, increased 
the inflammation, and a high fever hav- 
ing enperyened, his situation became ex- 
tremely precarious. 

For some days after the arrival of the 
British in New York, Harrison remained 
in a elate of delirium ; but, at length a 
fisvorable torn took place, and weak, 
powerless, and considerably emaciated, 
George awoke from a sweet and refresh- 
ing sleep to consciousness. 

The room in which he found himself 
was old-fashioned, built in the Butch 
slyln, and heavily wainscotted with dark 
walnut; grotesque figures were carved 
en the entablatures of the heavy beams 
overbead, and on the many salient points 
prodneed by that style of architecture. 



Facing his bed were two windows, and 
sleeping in the embrasure of one of them 
he could perceive the well known figure 
of his friend. Captain Hartley, whilst in 
the other embrasure sat a young lady 
occupied with embroidery. 

For a few moments, the events of the 
last fortnight seemed to crowd upon his 
memory, to the exclusion even of the ob- 
jects which now met his eye, but bis 
recollection was confused, and the last 
thing that he could distinctly remember 
was being removed from a wagon and 
carefully placed by Hartly on a litter, 
carried by four men of his company ; 
from that time all appeared to be a blank. 
Dismissing, therefore, from his mind the 
attempt to recall recent events, Harrison 
endeavored in the meanwhile to realise 
his present situadon. That he was well 
cared for and kindly nursed, was clear 
from the position that he found himself 
in, and his curiosity was excited to know 
what part or interest, if any, in his well- 
doing, was taken by the fair embroideress, 
on whom his eyes were now fixed. 

A lovelier rision, indeed, could hardly 
be imagined, than that on which our in- 
valid now gated; long tresses, of the 
richest auburn, floated over a neck and 
figuirt which were moulded in the per> 
fection of lithe and graceful beauty, and 
as she stooped over her work, the light 
fell on one of the most perfectly formed 
faces it is possible to conceive; whilst 
the constant smile that seemed to hang 
around her mouth, and the merry spar^ 
kle of her brilliant eyes, seemed, as if for 
the time, charged by graver and sadder 
thoughts than were mete for so joyous 
a looking creature. 

Sadder and sadder seemed these 
thoughts to become, for, afU'r a while, 
she paused in her embroidery, and pres- 
ently a hot tear dropped upon her white 
hand, where it had listlessly fallen on 
her lap. Hastily wiping her eyes, she 
now looked to George's bed, and seein 



226 



HUTCHINGS' CAUFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



that he was awake, gently approached 
him with some cooling mixture from a 
neighboring table. Placing one hand 
gently beneath his head, she adminis- 
tered two or three spoonfuls of a febri- 
fuge in which the taste of lemon was 
principally perceptible. 

"Thank you, thank you,'' faintly said 
George, but she placed her finger to her 
lips to enjoin silence, saying, " You must 
not talk till you have seen the Doctor ; 
you are not strong enough/' 

"But tell me where I am/' persisted 
Harrison, "and if angel nurses always 
float around the beds of sufferers here, 
investing even pain and sickness with a 
charm/' 

"Hush, hush, or I shall leave you; 
the surgeons have desired the most per- 
fect silence to be kept/' 

"At least you know, fair lady, how to 
enforce silence, and I obey," said George, 
and in truth his prostration was so great, 
that even these few words seemed to have 
exhausted him. 

Captain Hartley shortly awoke, and 
after a few words with the lady, advanced 
to the bed, she at the same time sofUy 
quitting the apartment. 

" Harrison, you must not talk, for you 
are frightfully weak," said Hartley kind- 
ly, "but I will tell you what you asked 
Miss Agnes, in a few words, so as to set 
your mind at rest, as you are doubtless 
anxious to know your whereabouts. On 
your arrival in New York, we were met 
at the landing by Wm. Emerson, who 
was with you at Eton, and whose fag you 
were. He is, as you know, independent, 
but has been for three years with a law- 
yer in this city, and purposes following 
that profession. He has purchased this 
house, to which he insisted on your being 
at once brought, and for which we got 
permission from head quarters. Miss 
Agnes, his sister, is staying with him, 
whilst his father is at present in Virginia 
(and a loyalist, by the way) and would 



have returned ere this, but for the mr 
settled state of the country. Both she, 
her brother, and Aunt Martha, their fa- 
vorite negress, have been unremitting in 
their attentions to you, since you have 
been here. Andre has had a letter from 
your brother in the West Indies, and all 
are well at home by latest intelligence, 
so now try and rest till the doctors come, 
with your mind at ease, for iM>8itively I 
will talk no more to you at present." 

Hartley once more returned to the 
window, and drawing the blinds closer, 
betook himself to a book, leaving the 
wounded man to his own now pleasant 
reflections, and to repose. 

Not one word had the wild, but kind- 
hearted Captain, hinted of his own watch- 
ful and sleepless nights, passed at the 
bedside of his comrade, where, indeed, 
every hour he could be absent from his 
own duty, had been spent. 

The love of one man for another h.<!s 
often been exemplified, and, unquestion- 
ably, the more than fraternal affection of 
Hartley for our hero, was, up to this time, 
as pure as it was disinterested. Indeed, 
the frank, affectionate, and generous dis- 
position of Harrison, had insensibly won 
upon the gay but somewhat dissipated 
Captain, in a manner that was unaccount- 
able even to himself. 

So it is through life; the careless, 
dashing man of the world, will, while 
the heart is yet in the right place, turn 
with pleasure to the freshness and kind- 
liness of those young minds, as yet un- 
tainted by rough contact with the grosser 
vices of manhood, and which were, alas, 
but too general in the circles in which 
our dramatis persona at that time moved. 
[Toht cowUmud^l 



A courteous answer is as cheaply given 
as a ruffiauly one; for the former you re- 
ceive thanks and a smile, and for the latter 
you obtain neither; there lies the differ- 
ence. 



THK UNKNOWN LOV«R.— PACIFIC RAILROAD CONVENTION. 227 



THIi UKKKOWK LOVER. 



BT J. R. B. 



She knowB not, bright nnconscioas thing, 
That in my soul she is enshrined, 

With inch sweet pain as love mny bring — 
A Itring portion of the mind. 

She cnanot know my life is nought, 

Bzcept A daily dream of her, 
The regnant, bright, eternal Thought, 

Which makes me still a worshiper. 

Accnrsed I am to feel how blest 
I might bat cannot hope to be ; 

To know that love is in that breast, 
Bat love that ne*er will smile on me I 

For who eonid ask a boon so rare 
As dwells in her delicious kiss ? 

Or dare aspire to arms which are 
The wreathM bonodary of bliss ? 

The rose may tonch her lips of red. 
The wave receive each glowing charm, 

And night its downy curtains spread 
Aroand her sweetly slambering form ; 

Bot I mast stlU at distance gaze, 
And mourn my dark, unhappy fate. 

And siog to one these dreamy lays 
Who neither bears me love nor hate. 



THB PACIFIC RAILROAD CON VBNriON. 

HIHOBIAl. 

To tJU PretideiU of tkt Unittd Staiet^ the 
Htad» of DepartmeniSf and to the Senate 
mnd Houee of R^etentattvee of the U. S, 

The andersigoed,the President and Mem- 
bers comprisiog the Pacific Railroad Con- 
vention, held in San Francisco, California, 
September, A. D. 1859, have the honor to 
address you on behalf of the said Conven- 
tion, and the People of the States of Cali- 
fornia, Oregon, and the Territory of Wash- 
ington, whom we represent, on the subject 
of a Continental Railroad, from the Pacific 
to the Valley of the Mississippi. 

The Convention was called in pursuance 
of the following 



CONCURRBNT RtSOLDTIOVS 

Of the Leffielature of the State of California, 

Reeolvedy By the Assembly, the Senate 
concurring, that to promote the interest 
and insure the protection and security of 
the People of the State of California and 
Oregon, and the Territories of Washington 
and Arizona; and especially to consider 
the refusal of Congress to take efficient 
measures for the construction of a Railroad 
from the Atlantic States to the Pacific, and 
to adopt measures whereby the building of 
said Railroad can be accomplished, it is 
expedient that a Convention be held on 
the twentieth day of September, A. D. 
eighteen hundred and fifty-nine, at the 
City of San Francisco, in the State of Cal- 
ifornia, composed of Delegates from the 
said States and Territories. 

Reeolvedf That the people of the several 
counties of the said States and Territories, 
are hereby especially requested to send to 
said Convention, Delegates equal to the 
number of the members of the Legislature 
of the said States and Territories, to which 
they are entitled, to represent them in said 
Convention. 

Reeolvedy That His Excellency, the Qov- 
ernor of this State, be requested to send 
copies of the foregoing Resolutions to the 
Governor of the State of Oregon and Ter- 
ritories of Washington and Arizona, re- 
spectively. 

Passed, April 6th, 1859. 

Office of the Secretary of State, \ 
Sacramento^ Col., Auguet 4, 1859./ 
I, FERRIS FORM AN, Secretary of State 
of the State of California, do hereby certi- 
fy that the foregoing is a full, true and 
correct copy of Concurrent Itesolution No. 
25, passed April 6th, 1859, noif on file at 
my office. 
^^^^^ Witness my hand and the Great 

{1 Seal of State, at office in Sacra- 
8<A^ \ mento, California, the 4th day of 
wvW^ Augttsi, 1859. 

FERRIS FORMAN, 

Secretary of State. 

The Convention was numerously attend- 
ed ; representing two of the sovereign 
States, and one of the great Territories of 
the General Government; embracing the 
entire extant of United Statas territory on 
the Pacific Coast. 

The Convention continued iU session 
through five days, carefully canvassing, in 
all iU relations and bearings, the snbjeot 
of the Continental Railway, and reachad 
ita conclusions and adopted Ita measores 



228 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



with remarkable and most gratifying nnan- 
imitj. 

As the resalt of the deliberations of that 
body, touching the subjects relating to 
Congressional action in behalf of the States 
and Territo^ bordering upon the Pacific, 
we are authorized respectfiillj to present 
to you the following statements and sug- 
gestions : 

California has been a sovereign State of 
the Union more than nine jears- She has 
a population exceeding five hundred thou- 
sand — actiye, intelligent and loyal. 

For ten years, and without intermission, 
has her people contributed unprecedented 
sums to the gain and prosperity of the na- 
tion. She possesses unrivalled mineral, 
agricultural and manufacturing resources, 
excellence of climate, and commercial po- 
sition 

These, with her harbors, navigable bays 
and rivers, geographical position, commer- 
cial relations, and intermediate station on 
the direct line of Asiatic and European 
trade, justly entitle the State and her peo- 
ple to a consideration fVom the General 
Government far greater than has been 
granted. 

Notwithstanding the abundance of her 
local resources, and the great advantage of 
her commercial position, the State has 
failed to make that progress in improve- 
ments, population, and general development 
legitimately anticipated. The causes ope- 
rating so unhappily to embarrass the due 
development of California, and tending so 
decisively to prevrat the anterprise of the 
citizens of this coast from resulting in 
forms of progress equal to the superior lo- 
cal advantages enumerated, exist mainly 
in the relation California sustains to the 
Atlantic States. 

The States of California and Oregon, 
and the Territory of Washington, are the 
most distant and difficult of access of any 
over which the Government is pledged to 
exercise its protection and fostering care. 
They are without the ordinary means of a 
healthy and natural growth. While the 
avenues of emigration are comparatively 



open, easy and safe to every other part of 
the Union, the route to its Pacific posses- 
sions, whether by land or sea, is constantly 
beset with every species of difficulty and 
danger. Our remote position and the dif- 
ficulties encountered in travel, transit and 
general commerce with the eastern and 
more populous States of the Union, are 
sufficient to explain the slow degrees which 
have marked the progress and development 
of the Pacific Coast. 

There are other great diffieulties with 
which these States have to contend, ope- 
rating to prevent State aid of railroad en- 
terprise within their limits. 

In the State of California the revenue is 
unjustly and most unequally divided. Her 
taxable area of land does not exceed one- 
ninth of the area of the State ; the re- 
mainder contributes nothing to the reve- 
nues of the State, because it is a part of 
the public domain, and therefore not sub- 
ject to taxation. 

Three-fourths of the population of the 
State occupy what is denominated as the 
'* mining lands." These lands are, and 
have been to this time, acknowledged to 
be the property of the Genera] Govern- 
ment The State is called upon to exercise 
all its governmental functions over the 
people occupying said territory, without 
deriviog revenue from the land so occu- 
pied. Although this question of federal 
exercise of power against the true interests 
of a sovereign State is important, and 
claims early and serious consideration, we 
do not now propose to discuss it f^irther. 

Oregon and the Territory of Washington 
stand in a similar relation upon this im- 
portant question. 

It is referred to here for the purpose of 
explaining to the General Government a 
hardship which has seriously affected the 
progress and development of this Sute. 

It cannot be charged as the fault of the 
Pacific States, that their revenue is so un- 
equally derived ; nor will the General Gov- 
ernment be at a loss to account for the 
present inability of these States to aid in 
the construction of expensive railroad en- 



PACIFIC RAILROAD CONVENTION. 



229 



icrpriMS, when thej learn, what is the fact, 
that bat an inconsiderable part of the 
people of the State contribute to the sap- 
port of the QoTemment. 

Tile State of Oregon — although a young 
State, inexperienced in the demands upon, 
and in the exercise of sovereign power — 
alreadj wiselj foresees her inability to 
constnict, or to aid in the construction of 
railroads within her limits, without the help 
vsaally granted by the General Qoyernment. 

It will be obserred, that the State of 
California ha« an unprotected Coast line, 
exceeding seren hundred miles. Oregon, 
five hundred miles, and the Territory of 
Washington, including the waters of Paget 
Sound, of one thousand miles. The peo- 
ple on this Coast entertain very firm con- 
▼ictiont that their interests, as well as the 
geaarml security of the territory of the 
United States on this Coast, have been 
constantly overlooked. 

The SUtes of California and Oregon, 
and Washington Territory, represent the 
intelligence and patriotism of every sec- 
tion of the Union. They are national in 
sentiment, and in action; and have no 
eonnccaon with the local difficulties which 
exctto and tend to divide the Eastern States 
of our Union. While they claim to un- 
derstand their duties, as consistent parts 
of the confederacy, they also claim to be 
informed of their Sovereign rights, and 
believe them to be at least equal to those 
of other States, and entitled to respect and 
consideration. These States hold that 
they understand the objects and purposes 
of a federal compact; they believe that 
the principal purposes to be answered by 
mmiam, are the common defense of its mem- 
bers ;^-the preservation of the public peace 
(internally and externally) and the proper 
adjustment of differences arising between 
the several sovereignties. 
That for such purposes the States are united 
in conferring and centralizing power in the 
Federal Government ; and that if it be put 
10 spee, it is fit and proper, to be directed 
to any and every National exigency which 
ssay arise. 



The circumstances tending to endanger 
the safety and tranquility of this portion 
of the Union, are too numerous to be 
herein specified ; and, if the power or in- 
fluence of the Federal Government were 
not created only to be exercised upon the 
Eastern seaboard, it can be called upon 
to provide for the defhnae and protection 
of the States and Territories on this coast. 

While yielding to no other portion of 
the Union, in the devotion of its people to 
the General Government, the reflection may 
not be amiss, that there is growing up on 
this portion of the continent a new gene- 
ration, bound by no ties of birth to the 
older States, and that, should their inter- 
ests be neglected after the manner of the 
nine years past, there will naturally spring 
up a coldness and indifference, which it is 
the part of wisdom to avoid. 

It is both unwise and impolitic, on the 
part of the General Government, longer to 
delay a practical racognition of the claims 
of the States and Territories on this coast. 
In a national, or any other point of view, 
works which increase our means of defense, 
or which afford to us an independent, 
speedy, and reliable communication with 
the Eastern portion of the Union and the 
seat of the Central Government, art of 
paramount importance. 

The known policy of the Government, 
respecting foreign intervention in American 
affairs, although most cordially approved 
by the people of this coast, but adds to the 
liability to be involved in all the disasters 
of war, and that, too, while it is utterly 
beyond the power of the Government to 
strike one effective blow in their defence ; 
at the same time, also, the people on the 
whole frontier line of these States and 
Territory are exposed to forays and rapine, 
(torn numerous and powerful Indian tribes. 

It is a true principle, never to be for- 
gotten by statesmen, that while it is the 
duty of the citisen to obey the Govern- 
ment, it is no less the duty of the Govern- 
ment to protect the citisen ; and it is an 
admitted truism, that a free people will 
not long endure a Government which re- 



230 



HU1K3HINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



fuses to a£ford them that protection for 
which Governments were instituted. 

Addressing those who are presumed to 
survey the great interests of the Republic 
—who regard the common dictates of good 
faith, and who recognize the binding force 
and equal obligation which characterize 
our federal compact, we belieye it will not 
be in yain to represent the condition of 
these sovereignties, and demand that meas- 
ure of relief which has been too long de- 
layed. 

The great project of constructing a 
trans-continental Railway, answering the 
purpose of protection of this coast— of 
stimulating immigration — of securing a 
speedy settiement of the country lying be- 
tween the Sierra Nevada and the Rocky 
Mountains^-of developing our great re- 
sources — of putting our people in a line of 
success— of building up our commercial 
interests — of turning the commerce of 
Asia through the United States, and of 
realizing generally the benefits of uninter- 
rupted, cheap, and speedy communication 
with our sister States— we commend to 
your earnest consideration. 

This Convention and the people of this 
coast are united in a demand for a Railroad, 
which shall be constructed from some 
point upon the western border of the At- 
lantic States, along whal is known as the 
*< Central Route," to some point on the 
frontier of California; whence divergent 
lines can be run— one to the waters of Co- 
lumbia River, or Pugot Sound, of the north, 
and one to San FranciMo, in the south. 

They are also united in demanding of 
the General Government a liberal donation 
of the public land, by which they shall be 
enabled to aid the construction of the 
said branch lines of Railroad. 

It cannot be believed that Congress will 
refuse so simple an act of justice to these 
States, or will be so blind and unmindful 
of the interest and duty of the Govern- 
menty as not to meet their expectation in 
this behalf, or that it will fail to extend to 
this coast the benefit and security of Rail- 
road communication with the East. 



It is a fact universally conceded, that an 
expenditure of one hundred million dollars 
in the construction b( fortifications upon 
this coast, will not render it as secure 
against invasion as the construction of the 
Pacific Railroad. 

The celerity, too, (having a Continental 
Railway), with which an army and its ac- 
companying tupplies woald be transferred 
across the continent, in any national exig- 
ency requiring expeditious movement to 
this frontier, is worthy of great considera.- 
tion at your hands. 

The completion of the Continental Rail- 
road will be the nation's announcement of 
readiness to Uke part in the stirring events 
of the coming time. Its construction is 
practicable^ necessary, and promising the 
greatest results. Once completed, the 
SUtes of the Union will realize the advan- 
tages resulting from the trade of naUons 
passing over this great highway. It will 
heal the political asperities which afflict 
the nation, hush the elements of discord 
and fanaticism which spread dismay over 
the country, and afford ready employment 
to a multitude who labor for their bread. 
It will lead to the establishment of steam- 
ship communication between San Francis- 
co and the ports of Japan and the Chinese 
Empire — inaugurate a new era in the com- 
mercial exchanges between these countries 
and our own — greatly benefit every interest 
of the North, South, East and West. It 
will rescue a hundred thousand leagues of 
land from desolation, and will people the 
same with millions of stout hearts and 
strong arms. 

Are not these objects which should in- 
cite our representatives in Congress to the 
greatest effort ? Are they not advantages 
worthy of immediate and zealous consid- 
eration ? Are these not interests, so com- 
mon to the Republic, that the South and 
the ybrth, the Haat and the West may unite 
in fraternal &ith and patriotic purpose, to 
attain ? 

If, like Csesar, men would be read, to their 
great praite^ let them favor a scheme which 
has for its object the benefit of this State, 



PACIFIC RAILROAD CONVENTION. 



231 



tbii coASty our territories intermediate, the 
whole Union, and the deyelopmeat of a 
great aad gloriovs destiny. Let them give 
their adhesion to an enterprise which thall 
kmk our teotral 9avereignHe$ in amity so 
strong that sable, intriguing artifices wtfft- 
m, or foes and envioas fbrce irtMoui, may 
B«Ter vnraTel the federal covenants we 
inherit. 

These grand results to the nation, and 
simple justice to these distant sorereign- 
tios, bonni to yon by strong ties, aay, in 
the estimation of the undersigned, be at- 
taiaed in the greatest degree by the favor- 
able consideration of the Government, 
graated to the following propositions : 

#Srst — ^Thatthe GkiTemmentaid the con- 
strnction of the Continental Railroad across 
the territory of the United States, by the 
foaranty by the Qovemment, of the pay- 
meat of interest not exceeding five per 
eeotam per annum during twenty years, on 
the bonds which may be issued by the 
ipany constructing the said Road, rep- 
iting a sum not exceeding the actual 
of the Road. 

Saot m d. — ^That the GoTemment grant llb- 
esally from the public lands of the territory 
•v«r which the said Road shall pass, to 
nmh company or companies as shall con- 
atmel the same from the Western Frontier 
of the Atlantic Stotes, to the lEastem Fron- 
tier oT the 8Ute of California. 

nUrdl^-That la such grant of lands, the 
Oay era ment oAr a bomu^ conditional, to 
wH: if the company construct the said 
Bead, and put the same in complete opera- 
tioa within Ave years from the date of the 
eoBtract, graat to the company alternate 
•aelions thirty miles deep, on each side of 
the road; but If the company occupy a 
longer period of time in lis construction, 
grant timm sections only ten miles deep. 

These grants and these conditions, with 
the right of way, and such subsidies and 
tfansportation contracts, as the GoTem- 
ment can well give, will insure the speedy 
undertaking and completion of the work. 

JbarCl. — ^That the Government donate to 
the Stale of Calilbnila all the public lands 




within her limits, (excepting the mining 
lands), also to repay to said State the sum 
of two million seven hundred and six thou- 
sand five hundred and twelve dollars, 
claimed to be legally due said State, hav- 
ing been collected as customs, at the port 
of San Francisco, between the dates of 
August 6th, A. D. 1848, and September 9th, 
A. D. 1860; these lands and this sum to 
be placed to the credit of '* State Railroad 
Fund," and used as the Legislature of the 
State may direct, in aid of the construction 
of that portion of the Pacific Railroad, 
which shall run from San Francisco to 
connect with the Grand Trunk Road, au- 
thorised by Government to be constructed 
to the Eastern Frontier of the State. 

I)fth. — ^That the Government grant like 
and similar aid to the State of Oregon, and 
to Washington Territory; whereby they 
may be enabled to construct a line of Rail- 
way to intercept the Grand Trunk Road of 
the Government, at such a point as shall 
be practicable at or near the Eastern Fron- 
tier of California, 

JOHN BIDWELL, Pmsidkit. 

Thomas J. Dryer, M. H. Farley, 

Thos. A. Savier, F. A. Bee, 

A. B. Hallock, J. A. McDougall, 

J. Ramsdell, L. Archer, 

Nath'I Holland, Wm. J. Lewis, 

Louis R Lull, T. B. Wade, 

W. S. Watson, J. F. Farley, 

Wm. H. Dalrymple, R. W. Russell, 

Joseph Levinson, T. RobertsoD, 

Thomas Baker. Thos. H. Pearne, 
Rich'd P. Hammond, Marcus Kimball, 

Geo. W. Crane, E. Landiir, 

Z. Montgomery, Seth Luelling, 

Jno. Gillig, B. S. Lippencott, 

H. Mills, E. McCarthy, 

J. A. Taylor, A. Meek, 

F. S. Balch, James Michael, 

J. A. Amerman, G. M. Hansom, 

Grove K. Godfrey, A. C. Hinkson, 

Henry 8. Fitch, L. Hite, 

T. Dame. M. Hirsh, 

Jas. C. Cobb, S. J. Axtell, 

Horace Austin, John H. Atchison, 

R J. Lets, G. Baechtetl, 

J. 8. Ormsby, W. T. Barbeur, 

J. H. Carothers, A. T. Bailey, 

J. G. McCallnm, J. M. Blossom, 

Benj. R. Nickerson, R. Hale, 

Dan'l S. Howard, Theo. D. Jndab, 

S. D. Mastick, J. B. Crockett, 



232 



nUTCHINGS* CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



S. M. MezeSi 
Jos. 0. McSibben, 
J. W. Osborn, 
Wm. H. Rhodes, 
Ed. M. flail, 
E. E. Yandecar, 
Alex. P. Ankeny, 
W. B. Farwell, 
G. M. Hanson, 
E. 9. Holden, 
J. 8. Titns, 
R. 0. Gere, 
Henry Gerke, 
T. W. Lander, 
E. Burke, 
R. S. Miller, 
Phil. Wasserman, 
W. S. Sherwood, 
Lafayette Balch, 
R. Matheson, 



Wm. Blackburn, 
Eugene Orowell, 
Ira P. Rankin, 
Henry M. Hale, 

D. 0. MiU0, 

H. G. Worthington, 
Levi Parsons, 
Lewis If. Starr, 
Francis B. Gamp, 
F. A. Bishop, 
Thomas J. Arnold, 

E. A. Rockwell, 
Daniel Gibb, 
R. H. Mitchell, 
W. W. Porter, 
Geo. W. Prescott, 
W. H. Rector, 
Chester N. Terry, 

F. Hooker, 
W. A. Houseli 



G. P. Jackson, 
Ed. Janssen, 
E. Joynt, 
J. Kamp, 
J. B. Knapp, 
Joha Gonneas, 
J. H. Cutter, 
V. B. Daub, 



A. D. Ellis, 
George Flave,! 
F. Ford, 
E. 8. Gillespie, 
A. B. GoTe, 
L. C. Gray, 
J. E. Hale, 
L. A. Booth. 



CUif of San Fnmaaeo^ \ 



October 10, 1859. 
I, William Rabi, Secretary of the Pacific 
Railroad Convention, do hereby certify that 
the foregoing is a full, tnie and exact copy 
of the Memorial No. 2, ordeMd on file 
among the documents of the Conyention. 

WILLIAM RABE, 
Secretary Pacific R, M. Convention. 



• mmm 



#nr SotUI C^air. 



TO that nature which is truly noble, 
it is ever a sonrce of pleasurable 
^satisfaction to realize that the hu- 
manizing and heart ^enlarging influences 
of social conyerse, which, while making 
eyery member of our oommon family hap- 
pier, raises them to a higher life and desti- 
ny. To such, existence is simply one long 
day in which to make people happy ; the 
crowning hope and end of an ^araest 
"brotherhood of sympathy; the joy of the 
inner life, and the carrj'ing out of the great 
plans of the Infinite One. Selfishness, the 
great bane and stumbling-block of the 
narrow-min4ed, has stood in the way of 
the realisation of this God-Uke principle; 
yet, as a consequence, while its policy has 
defeated its own purposes, by abridging 
rather than enlarging its ei^oyments, its 
yery defeat has asserted the perfection of 
the Diyine plan that secures the greatest 
amount of happiness and joy to him who 
deals out these heart-gladdening gifts, 
without stint or measure to others. No 
man ever did a good action but he met 
with an instantaneous reward. No word of 
encouragement in the ear of the disheart- 



ened; no kindly spoken word of sympa- 
thy to the bereayed or poor; no well-meant 
and unostentatious assistance to the needy, 
whether its recipient be clothed in rags or 
broadcloth ; in short, no proof whateyer 
that a man possessed the heart of a true 
brother, eyen though it were neyer breath- 
ed to human ear, ever went without im- 
mediate payment, *' in full of all demands " 
by the happy warmth and contentment 
enjoyed within, from the conisiotion of the 
pleasure given when the duty was perform- 
ed. The acquisition of riches is generally 
understood to be synonymous with the 
acquisition of happiness : and, to a certain 
extent, this is true; but it is none the 
less equally true, that often all those finer 
feelings that make life itself a luxury, are 
sacrificed, or crushed out by the iron heel 
of Avarice, so that when the goal of their 
heaven is reached, those ministers ef grace, 
Charity and Love, are no longer abiding 
guests in their hearts. 

There is truth as well as poetry in the 
wise aphorism, — "Contentment is great 
gain,"— ^o that, whether the reader or the 
writer be rich, or " no better off than he 



OUR SOCIAL CHAIR. 



233 



might be," let each reflect that there is a 
probabili^ thai we could easily be is a 
worse position than we are ; and, ai there 
are annoyances and perplexities^ and al- 
most insormonntable difficolties in every 
calling, business, or profession, the best 
that we can all do is to meet them like 
men, and make the best of them. 

In this connection we remark that we 
take pleasure in witnessing that not only 
are onr socially-inclined friends gradually 
hitching their chairs closer together, lest 
some preciovs thought or happy circum- 
stance, or good joke, should elude their 
grasp, by escaping their attention, but 
that, one by one, other chairs are seeking 
to join our magic circle ; and we know it 
need not be said — * most cordially are they 
welcome.' And, although we confess to 
feeling a decided preference for those chairs 
thai are polished by contentment and 
cheerflilness, we would not wish to ez- 
clnde those, whose frequent 'movings' and 
sundry bnmpings from place to place, have 
mbbed off some of the>amish, or brokeo 
away some portions of the yeneering, if 
their condition does not necessarily imply a 
habit of perpetual screeching — ^in which 
case they are inadmissible to the circle; 
for, from screeching beds and chairs we 
devoutly say, good workmanship, glue, and 
timber ever deliver us. 

Now, permit us, gentle reader, to intro- 
duce a new acquaintance, who modestly 
seeks admission to our jovial circle, and 
abont whom many hard, and even agoniz- 
ing stories have been told ; and the very 
name of which, at first, may to some re- 
vive an unpleasant chain of reminiscences, 
or of thankful deliverances : 
SjfmpaikiMmg Social Chair : 

'TIs said, '< The Gods are just." If this 
be tme, then " Fate" should not be blamed 
for moulding one to noble, and another 
to base purposes. But exaggerating one's 
misery seems to be an impiety, because it 
is • reflection upon our maker, and the 
clay should not say to the potter << why 
made ye me thus?" So I will set down 



tiny. Still, I keep up a terrible thinking 
if I were thus and so, I should be the hap- 
piest chair alive. Out upon the theory that 
there is less suffering in the world than 
formerly. I ought to know, for I have had 
a vast deal of experience. Day by day gives 
me fresh proof that this is not so, and that 
pain and anguish were bequeathed to eve- 
ery mother's son of us, when that fatal 
apple was munched. I never could blame 
Eve as much as some people do. I think 
I should have done just the same, provid- 
ed it was a good foil pippin, and I could 
reach it by standing on tip-toe, and with- 
out disarranging my costume. To that one 
little circumstance I owe my being. From 
that ftttal hour, the molar organs began to 
assert their privileges, and Eve's apple 
tooth was the first to *♦ grumble." (For a 
frill account of the method of extracting in 
those days, I would refer you to the fourth 
volume of Dow Jr's Profane History, and 
for the size, shape,' color, and peculiar 
flavor of the said apple, to Caxton's late 
edition of "Eve in Bden.") Both deserved- 
ly popular works. But for the disobedience 
of that rolicking little piece of femininity, 
I might at this day be towering in primi* 
tive grandeur on the banks of the south 
fork of the stream she used for her looking 
glass, or what is better, been transformed 
into an envied " Social chair," " Teacher's 
Chair," "Chair of Sute," or a "PoUtical 
Platform," " Board of Delegates,/ an " Ora- 
tor's Stump," a "Limb of the Law," or 
anything you please, rather than live to 
curse my being! Of all the miserable 
wretches on the face of this terrestrial foot- 
stool of Providence, you may count on my 
being the most to be pitied. The atmos* 
phcre which surrounds me is rife with 
shrieks, and pain, and fear. The strong 
man trembles as he approaches me ; his 
blood runs back, " his knees against each 
other knock"; women— even the "strong 
minded"— weep and go into hysterics at 
the sight of me, and children are instructed 
from their infant years to shun me as they 
would some frightful ogre in the dark. I 



naught la malice, nor grumble at my des- | have seen the brow of beauty pale at my 



234 



HUTCHINGS* CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



approach, and yoa wonder bow I can " be- 
hold Buch sights of blood and torture, and 
keep the natural ruby of mj cheeks, when 
theirs are blanched with fear." I call up 
yisions of the grave-yard ; and the high 
road to that " undiscovered country" is 
opening to the mental vision of all whom I 
embrace* The wretched are my compan- 
ions. I am seldom free from paia during 
the day, and am never sure of a sound 
•leep at night. It is true, I pay no taxes, 
am exempt from sitting on juries, or serv- 
ing in the militia, but these are small evils, 
compared with those entailed upon a 

DiNTIBT'B 0R1.IB. 

But here is another, A*onLa Miss in her 
teens, written in one of the prettiest and 
most lady-like hands that can be imagined ; 
and, moreover, folded, enclosed, and ad- 
dressed iu as methodical a manner as 
though it had been invented (we mean the 
«tyle) on purpose to embody the idea of 
neainej*9^9.'iid nothing more : 

Kind Social Chair : 

I hope you will not think me forward in 
addressing you [of course we do not, nor 
will the reader, when he has read your let- 
ter to the end] but I have so much longed 
to say a few words to you, more perhaps to 
ask your advice than to say anything un- 
pleasant of any one ; hut, my teacher gives 
me such hard lessons to learn in mathe- 
matics that my head aches very hard be- 
fore I have a quarter solved a single prob- 
lem, and when I have conquered — which I 
generally do — I am so weak and dispirited 
that I have not strength or courage to at- 
tempt any other study. Now, do you not 
think that it would be better for me to de- 
vote the same amount of time to other sub- 
jects that would be more useful and much 
more agreeable to me (as I dislike that 
very much), and in which I might have 
some hope of excelling — or at least, be able 
to keep up with my class? I am also 
growing very thin and pale, and my dear 
mother looks so anxiously at me, as much 
as to say, *' what is the matter with you, 
Jenny, my dear?" (and I sometimes can 
see that she goes out of the room on purpose 



to cry, where I cannot see her), and know- 
ing how much she longs to see me become 
an excellent scholar, I do not like to hurt 
her feelings by telling her the cause. Hop- 
ing that you will excuse the liberty I have 
taken, and not tell any one vj name, I 
remain, very respectfully, 

Yours, SoBooL Stool. 

Now, Miss Jenny, it is a difficult matter 
for this Chair to stand between you and 
your teacher ijx giving advice, because we 
think that were we in his position, we 
should not like for any one to interfere be- 
tween us; and were we in yours, we should 
go straight to him and candidly explain 
the whole matter, when, he will doubt- 
less, 6nd the remedy ; for w« cannot think 
that any one who occupies so responsible 
a post would, for a moment, wish to sacri- 
fice your health and prospects, or the carry- 
ing out of the darling wish of your mother's 
heart, did he know it, by neglecting the 
other, and to our thoughts, the more im- 
portant portions of a good education, by 
offering you upon the Mathematical altar. 
We thank you for your confidence, which 
we shall endeavor to deserve, by attending 
to your wishes ; and when this is in print 
we shall enclose it to your teacher ; sin- 
cerely hoping that others will take this 
gentle hint. 

Different to the above, in almost every 
essential particular, is the annexed epistle , 
and as it will tell its own story, we intro- 
duce it at once : 
Sappy Social Chair:- 



It may be matter of surprise to those who 
do not reflect that I should presume to 
have any existence whatever; or, at all 
events, other than at the back of other 
chairs, there to be perpetually on the 
watch for any beckoning look or nod from 
my more aristocratic neighbors. Yet, I 
think that as I have to live, and, after all 
am a very useful piece of fumitttre, in my 
place; and moreover give standing evidence 
of my existence and utility, from very early 
in the morning until very late at night, at 
which time I am stowed away, until want- 
ed, on a cot, in some very small, yet, exalted 



OUR SOCIAL CHAIR. 



285 



poMtion, in the cock-lofi; or, low *< down 
ftBOBg the dead" — rats, as well as Htc 
ones, with the proyisions tn the earthj 
hasement, (and where, on one oecasion, 
one of the largest of m j long-tailed fellow 
lodg era or rather mnners, who * ran all 
night,* took a fanej to a piece of my ankle), 
I think that I am entitled to a little eon* 
sideralion, and a email portion of jonr 
comfortable seat — ^if onlj as large as mj 
skj-tendlttg bed-room. 

Now, dear sympathising Social Chair, 
let me pour into yoor ear a few of my sor- 
rows — I will not eall them sufferings, but 
timpi/ repinings — in the hope that the 
opening of the heart to another, may re- 
liere it of its superabundant oppressive- 
aces ; and possibly make my occupation a 
little more endurable. First, then, a gen- 
tlemanly chair — or ai least, one that 
might pass as such, judging from its or- 
namental earring and gilding •— says, 
*' Waiter, did I erdbr yon to bring me gntyy 
to my meat? " *«No, sir." ** Then why did 
yon bring me that which 1 did not order 7" 
la vaia do I explain that gentlemen in gen- 
eral prefer gravy to their meat — ^that it is as 
c asto m a r y to carry gravy with the meat as 
it is to carry a plale to contain the meat, 
naleasit is otherwise ordered. "Gentle- 
men in general," did you say? I am not 
of the * gentlemen in general,' but one in 
partienlar, and particularly request that 
7o« do not give me anything that I do not 
order in the future, sir, d'ye hear?" "Yes, 
sir." When he requested me to pass him 
the potatoes, or preserves, had I enquired 
if he wonld like the dish passed that con- 
taioed them, he would have denounced me 
sa Impertinent puppy, no doubt ; and yet, 
ia obeying his instmcUons to the letter, I 
onghi simply to have passed the potatoes — 
without the dish. Then, again, when he 
ttked me for "pudlling," I took him pud- 
ding; bni M he bad not instructed me 
cooccming the sauce, I dare not presume 
to add sauce to it without his particular 
order; and when he enquired why I 
broagbt him *'8nch dry stuff as that to 
eat?" and ^ if the house could not afford 



sauce to its pudding? " I very humbly sug- 
gested that he had not ordered sauce ; and 
as I did not wish to offend him, I of course, 
as per his order, did not bring it without 
that order, he immediately flew into a pas- 
sion, and threatened that "if I gave him 
any of my sauce, (with or without the pud- 
ding) he would throw it at my head," but 
as lie did not mention whether it was the 
padding or the sauce that he intended to 
present me with in such a playful manner; 
and, as the boisterous confusion this cre- 
ated had not only attracted the attention 
of every one at the table, but had even 
brought my employer from a far-off corner 
in the cellar, where he had been engaged 
in roasting old monldy crusts of bread to 
make coffee of, I was ordered out of the 
room without the satisfaction of ascertain- 
ing anything further about it. 

Then, again, one tells me that I " ought 
not to bring him such ancient and muscu- 
lar flesh, under the deceptive cognomen of 
* roast beef,' as though /bad either grown, 
or provided, or cooked the meat. Another 
asks me how many years I have eigoyed the 
personal acqaaintance of that chicken? 
A third suggests that if the meat before 
him was brought for <lamb,' that I ex- 
change it for a nice, rare slice of that 
' lamb's mother,' instanter. One frowns at 
me because this 'Was too cool'; another, 
swears at me for not * informing him that 
that was so infernally hot,* *this is too 
fat,' and * that too lean ' ; so you see I get 
all the blame, and none of the credit, and 
yet am only 

A Waim't Caaim. 

A DAOUBRREOTTPB MUSINO, 

on, AM BPIBTLI TO TBB BDITOB. 

My room-mate, a pedagogue tall, — 

He was raised in the Oreen Mountain 
Has rolled himself up in a ball [State, 

And forgotten his flea-bitten fitte. 
He has left in plain sight on the table 

A daguerreotype set in a locket; 
I really wish /were able 

To have such an one in my pocket 




^ • 



236 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



He sajTB it's his sister — ^no doubt — 

Hy perceptions are not very keenj 
But I really can't make the point oat 

That the slightest resemblance is seen. 
For he is long, lean, lank and tall ; 

The ladj a delicate HA^-- 
No family likeness at all , 

No sister then, to him, can she be 1 

Some "notes" folded neater than wax. 

Are lying close by on the stand, 
And now I observe on the backs 

Is a delicate, lady-like hand. 
I can guu9 how this all comes to pass : 

This pedagogue tall, left behind [lass, 
Some " school ma'am/' or sweet Yankee 

Round whom his affections are twined. 

The original most be very fair. 

It is strange he ever fivsook it, 
And as for the ideal there, 

I declare, I am tempted to hook it 1 
But lo 1 by some magical freak 

Of that pretty daguerreotype face, 
Those rosy lips suddenly speak, 

Applying these lines to my case : 

" Pedagogue 1 I advise you to wed, 

No longer about the thing tarry. 
Like that sensible fellow in bed. 

Who has promised nu that he'll marry I 
Ton certainly look, my dear teacher. 

As if you had half of a soul. 
The other — am I not a true preacher. 

Would produce one harmonious whole ! 

Your romantic days are all past. 

And permit « young lady to say 
It is certainly time you should cast 

About you without a delay. 
Don't tell me you ' really don't know," 

Or will think in the future about it; 
You never will get along so, 

You can't exist longer without it. 

Your hair and your coat have turned gray, 

A wrinkle is set in your face, 
A wife now, would smooth it away, 

And put all your wardrobe in place. 
Your life is so trying in school, 

I'll tell you jnst what you must do, 
Before you can pleasantly rule, 

Somebody must tmU over you I 



But mind — if you write a love letter, 

Don't run into doggerel rhyme, 
You are old enough, now, to know better. 

You will only waste paper and time. 
It is really strange you don't know it, 

Were you ever in love in yonr life ? 
If you try to pass off for a poet. 

You never will get you a wife. 

Don't pen a poetical ditty. 

Or sit like a furnace and sigh. 
You might as well quote to her ' Ghitty,' 

But say like a man, ' / wiU try I ' 
If you want to get married, just say 

That you want to, and that is enough \ 
You never will get on your way. 

By penning poetical stuff." 

Shall I take photographic advice, 

And as pictures are taken of maifti 
Do the thing neatly up in a trice 

By placing myself under ban ? 
I really think if some Miss 

Wonld g^ve me a sweet little fiice, 
I could glide into honeymoon bliss 

With a very commendable grace. 

Fixia. 

To those whose sympathies for the be- 
reaved may lead them in imagination to 
the sad scene, the annexed touching inci- 
dent, from the Tuolumne Courier, will be 
read with melancholy tenderness : — 

When the conflagration which destroyed 
Murphy's Camp broke out, the moamful 
services of a funeral were being performed. 
A mother had lost her little child of some 
two years old. The little procession had 
reached the village church, and were there 
paying the last sad tribute of affection, 
when the fearful cry of fire smote upon the 
ear of that little group. So great was the 
panic, as the flames burst upon their sight 
through the church windows, that, in vol* 
untarily, all rushed out to render aid in 
staying the progress of the flames. In a 
moment, the poor mother found herself 
alone with her dead child; and, taking up 
the little coffin, retomtd to her home alone 
and unnoticed 1 

Poor lonely mother, at that moment thou 

must have needed the angel-ministerings 

of thy departed little one, to soothe and 

comfort thee on thy sorrowing journey of 

return. God help thee. 



OUR SOCIAL CHAIR. 



237 



Far o'er yon distent mounteinsi in Sierra's lorelj Tale, 
Where the summer's softest breezes woo the stormj winter gale, 
And the Storm-spirit sings her requiem, in its low weeping wail ; 
Where the tell pines are robed in white, like gianto ghostlj pale, 
Where grow the opening flowers, and glows the glittering snow, 
And white-hooded peaks, like hoarj monks, frown on the plain below. 
And laughing little brooklets adown the mountain flow, 
Singing their summer song, as merrilj they go ,* 
There huge rocks and giant trees, upon the mountein side, 
Kaep sentry, like grim Warders, o'er that valley, fair and wide. 
Where a bright and fairy landscape unfolds to every view. 
And nature weaves her carpet of ever- varied hue ; 
There snowy clouds above float in the ether blue^ 
Fit canopy for hearts, as ever, fbnd and true. 
I love the grassy margin of thy deep and crystal streams, 
And in the ever shady groves indulge in sunny dreams. 
Waked by the dashing, flashing water, as fitfully it gleams 
From out the darkened shadow, and in the silver beams ; 
And with nature's book before me,*1n these enchanted bowers, 
Read the volume of the skies, andtnark itt Uavea withfUmert; 
When, at the sephyrs' kiss, the blossoms fall in showers. 
Unmindful of the march of Time, or of his passing hours. 



In that bright distant valley I know a fair retreat; 
The way is plainly marked, by many a pilgrim's feet — 
From many a far-off home, and many a distent shore — 
That leads you to a dwelling, with its ever open door, 
Which makes a sunny dial upon the polished floor. 
I remember well the place, and the welcome smile it wore— 
A broad and spacious mansion, and yet a peaceful cot, 
Where the ever welcome sojourner will always bless his lot — 
For here the rites of hospitelity are never once forgot 
Who the ministering genius of this loved and lovely spot, 
Where the stranger finds a welcome, the friend a holy shrine, 
Y\\ answer, then, 'tis "Alice," and *' A hialth to thki and thivi." 
o CU^f Sq^t. 23dj 1869. E. R. C. 



CIsilf. 
The sise of this garment is very large — 
reaching nearly, or quite to the bottom of 
the dfHi, and fidling in ample folds ; the 
pattema T«ry much, but Jtst » mdi^tMabU. 
The fisTorite appears to be the Pardessns, 
made of either cloth or velvet, and cut the 
nine, (nse excepted) as the summer silks 
have been. The cloth is mostly trimmed 
with quilling of the same, around the hot- 
sleeves, and top of the hood. 



The hood is correspondingly large, and 
has two large tessels, which terminate 
nearly half the length of the skirt below 
the waist. Some of the most costly are cut 
" double circular," the upper one reaching 
a little less than half way, and elaborately 
covered, with pasammtem^ finished with 
deep fringe, same shade as the material 
of the cloak ; the largest proportion of the 
embroidery is put upon the upper circular. 
The firinge on the bottom one should be at 
least two inches the deepest, — they are not 
joined together, but left for convenience, 



238 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



BO that thej may be worn singlCi whenever 
the state of the weather demands it. 

Another is the " Solferino/' a large man- 
tle of striped cloth, with a deep hood, cut 
pointed, and bound with galoon. Our 
opinion is, that it will not find fayor in 
California ; it is too gaudy, bj far. 

The greatest novelty of this Fall, in New 
York City, has been a '< circular," with a 
hood reaching nearly to the bottom, made 
of a material called Velourt de Farit ; 
it is of wool, with smali chintz pattern of 
silk woven in, and is worn only with a 
dress of the same stuff, both trimmed with 
black velvet. The mildness of this cli- 
mate, notwithstanding the advanced sea- 
son, renders this dress aceeptable still. 

We have not space for more on the sub- 
ject of fashions, this time, and conclude 
by mentioning that "Valenciennes lace" is 
most fashionable for Sets. Ribbons are 
wider, and dark bright plaids, and bro- 
cades with black grounds, and bright 
bunches of flowers. No. 30 in width. 



Pont^If $tcorb of Csrrtnt €btxdB, 

The convicts of the State prison made 
numerous attempts to escape, during the 
moDth| when many were fired upon, some 
killed, and others mortally wounded. 

Honte Cristo was almost totally de- 
stroyed by fire on the 20th Aug. 

The citizens of Downieville gave a mag- 
nificent ball of celebration on the 22d Sep- 
tember, on the opening of the Sierra Turn- 
pike road, which unites their mountain 
city with the valleys below, by stage. 

Diamond Springs, £1 Dorado county, 
was almost entirely destroyed by fire Sep- 
tember 23d. 

James M. Crane, delegate to Congress 
from the new Territory of Nevada, died 
suddenly at Gold Hill, ndar Sonora, Sep- 
tember 26tb. 

The ladies of Columbia gave a festival, 
the proceeds of which, amounting to $846 
75, were devoted towards the purchase of 
a fire engine for that town. 

The Sonora arrived with 682 passengers 
Sept. 28th. 

The Cortex arrived Sept. 29th with 486 
passengers. 

The commencement of the Jewish New 
Year, 6620, was celebrated Sept. 28th. 



The El Dorado county Treasurer's ofiice 
was robbed of $ 8,600 on the night of tlie 
28th Sept., $ 6,000 of which belonged to 
the State. 

A. C. Lawrence, Assemblyman elect from 
Trinity county, caught a grizzly in a trap. 
While waiting for assistance the bear got 
loose, gave chase, and ran him up a tree, 

after taking a bite off the teat of his 

pantaloons. 

The Rabbit Creek Flume Company, and a 
large number of the citizens of La Porte 
purchased of John Conley, the two East 
Branch ditches, and the Rabbit Creek and 
the Yankee Hill ditch, for $20,000. 

The heavy jolt of an earthquake was 
experienced in San Francisco At 16 min- 
utes past 12 o'clock, H., on the 6th ult. 

The first annual Fair of the Alameda 
Agricultural Society was held at Oakland, 
from the 4th to the 14th ult., and proved a 
great success. 

The Cortes sailed on the 6th nit. with 
550 passengers, and the United States Mail, 
for the first time. The Qolden Gate had 
665 passengers and $ 1,663,280 in treasure. 

Gold dust was deposited In the San 
Francisco Branch Mint to the amount of 
$669,988 80 during the month of Sep- 
tember. 

There are at present 600 hands working 
on the San Francisco and Marysville Rail- 
road, says the National Democrat; 160 of 
these are Chinese, employed by a Chinese 
sub-contractor. 

A man named Geo. Kohler was suffo- 
cated, on the 30th Sept., by fumes from a 
charcoal furnace, while attempting to sol- 
der a lead pipe in a well, at Benicia. 

Frezno City was entirely destroyed by 
fire on the 2nd ult., with the exception of 
the Overland Mail Company's stables, and 
A. J. Downer's store. 

A new semi-weekly line of stages to run 
across the Sierra Nevadas, between Placer- 
ville and Genoa, (Carson Valley), has been 
started by the undaunted mountain ex- 
pressman, J. A. Thompson — fare $ 15. Mr. 
Thompson used to carry the mail over the 
Sierras alone and in the depth of winter, 
using the Norwegian snow shoes. 

One fourth of the town of Auburn, 
Placer county, was destroyed by fire on 

the 9th ult. 

The stock owners of Yuba county, in 
the vicinity of the Oregon House, have or- 
ganized themselves into a Vigilance Com- 
mittee, for the purpose of suppressing cat- 
tle stealing. 

On the afternoon of 11th ult. the first 
Quaker nuptials ever celebrated in this 



EDITOR'S TABLE. 



239 



dtf , took pUc« before Jostice Galver, wtoA 
Mr. 0. W. SlUl and Miss A. If. Peanon 
vere anited in the holj bon40 of matri* 
moaj. 

Fo«r ftearaboats are aow pljing between 
this clt/ and the '* Haystack," (near Peta- 
lana.) 

The itcamship Uade Sam arriTed from 
pAoaiaa at I o'clock, A. M., on the 14th 
alu, with 626 passengers. 

The Golden Age brought 687 passengers 
oa the 16th. 

Lleot. Gen. Wtafield Scott, commander- 
ia-cbief of the 0. S. army, and suite, ar- 
rired fr«Mi the East on the Golden Age, on 



the 16th alt., to whom an imposing pablio 
reception was given. AU thtf varions av- 
enoes of the city, through which the sol- 
dier-hero was to pass, was densely packed 
with people, and every window, and front 
of every honse-top covered with specta- 
tors. At 6 o'clock on the evening of the 
17th, Gen. Scott embarked on board the 
Northerner for San Juan Island, to exam- 
ine into the difficulty between Gen. Harney 
and the English authorities there. 

The Sonora sailed on the 20th ult. with 
450 passengers, and $1,559,648.50 in treas- 
ure. The Uncle Sam had 633 passengers, 
and the United States Mails. 



tm9m* 



(^yiiat*s €uhlt. 



OF ALL other giOs, Chat of Charity 
It «ud to be, and doubtless is, the 
greatest; and yet, we very much 
lonbt if aay, aye, all others put together, 
could chronicle as much abase as that one. 
Ton eee a human face, for the first time, 
•ad there is something about that first im- 
pressioo which makes you feel sospicioos 
of it ; aad yet, as tfne rolls on and a su- 
perficial aeqaaintanoe is formed with its 
owner, yoiv charitable nature makes you 
Itftr that your first impression has made 
yoQ a^nst ; and, in order to repair the in- 
jeiy dona, yoa trust him, and— -suffer for 
it. A man, whose life and history would 
write him down a scoundrel, shows signs 
of repentance, by attending and perhaps 
joiaiag himself to a christian chnrch, or 
some temperance organisation ; every one 
rt|oieca In it, and willingly extends a help- 
ing band in every way that may encourage 
sad proaper him in his good intentions and 
vork— and this is very commendable— yet 
in bow many cases has all this assisting 
coafideoce been thrown away ? " The mo- 
tive,** say yon, ''was a good and laudable 
oae, bat it was abased." Aye, verily. Of 
eoorva, each illnstrations could be multi- 
plied md w ^ niiwm^ bat It Is far from our in - 
leatioo to say a word that should lessen 
the nunber, or the power of such exalted 
and God-Uke actions and attributes among 



the children of men, for, " We are brethren 
all." And, " Let him that is without sin, 
cast the first stone." 

But we wish to call the reader's atten- 
tion to the charitable and conciliatory spirit 
with which the U. 8. Government has met 
the treasonable, and even murderous, ac- 
tions of the Mormons in Utah, and shew its 
utter and hopless failure to effect a change 
in their unholy practices. With their reli- 
gious views, as such, we have nothing to 
do ; but the moment those views are embod- 
ied in actions, and those actions encroach 
upon the privileges and rights of others, 
then we have something to say. That they 
should believe that " the earth is the 
Lord's, and the foUness thereof," and that 
they are " His people," is all very well : 
but, when one of those " people " comes 
and steals our property, and says the Lord 
sent him, then we say, that he Is not only 
a blasphemer, but a thief, and having vio- 
lated criminal law, should be made amena- 
ble to that law. 

Again, when a system of religious be- 
lief, like that of the Mormons, instrncts its 
disciples that to cut of all the enemies of 
their chnrch is *' doing God a service," 
however much we may deplore and depre- 
cate such Satanic doctrines, while they are 
simply doctrines, we have nothing to say 
or to do concerning them ; but the mo* 



^w 



240 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



ment that its believers attempt to put their 
tenets into actions, and organize them- 
selves into a band of murderous zealots, 
and commence by stealthy wayside shoot- 
ing, poison, tomahawk, or knife, to take 
away life, then are they amenable to crim- 
inal law— or should be — and their just de- 
serts be dealt out to them upon the scaf- 
fold. 

Our readers are well aware that for the 
last ten years there has existed, among 
the Mormons, such an organization as that 
to which we have alluded, who bear the 
name of "Danites," or « Angels of Death." 
These men are elected to their dark ofiSce, 
and supported in the execution of its duties, 
bjf the church. And never, ^ince the days 
of the Spanish Inquisition, hare as ma^y 
fallen under ban. 

By their bloody hands several hundred 
have been quietly and ignominiously mur- 
dered and disposed of — but how many the 
last day alone will disclose. Scarcely a 
mail, or messenger, has reached California 
that had not some deed of violence to re- 
late, under different aspects, f^om members 
of this band. And yet, the United States 
Government has permitted this to go on, 
unpunished and uncorrected, from year to 
year; and that, too, when every officer 
sent by it has met with nothing but defeat 
and abuse. We would, therefore, earnestly 
ask : '' How long is Murder to go unpun- 
ished ? How long is Treason to stalk de- 
fiantly abroad in Utah, and the Govern- 
ment do nothing to suppress it ?" 

The testimony of P. K. Dotson, U. S. 
Marshal for Utah Territory, will add an- 
other to the many warning voices that 
have been received, hni as yet, have re- 
mained unheeded, and as it will clearly 
explain our position there, we present it to 
the reader for his consideration : 

Great Salt Lakb City, U. T., \ 
August 1st, 1859. / 

To Sit Excellency f Jamet Buehatumy Pren^ 
dent of the United States : 

Sir — I hereby tender to your Excellency 
my resignation as United States Marshal 
for the Territory of Utah, to take effect 
from the 20th instant. 



In tendering this resignation, I deem it 
my duty to warn you, so far as my humble 
voice will avail, that the present policy 
of the Government towards this Terri- 
tory will be fatal to Federal supremacy 
in Utah, and can only tend to build up, 
consolidate and perpetuate the political 
and ecclesiastical power of Brigham Young 
and his successors. The unasked, and to 
this day, derided pardon extended to treas- 
on, has only tended to encourage treason; 
and the presence of Federal tooops, crip- 
pled and humiliated by the instructions 
and restraints imposed upon them, serves 
only the purposes of enriching the coffers 
of the Mormon church, and of subserving 
the ends of Mormon policy. 

The Courts of the United States in the 
Territory, powerless to do good, in dread- 
ful mockery of justice, are compelled to 
lend the power and mojesty of the law to 
subserve the evil designs of the very crim- 
inals whom they seek to punish. Impotent 
to protect innocence, they encourage 
crime. The Federal officers of the Terri- 
tory, opposed and annoyed continually by 
those whose cardinal support and co-ope- 
ration could alone enable them, effectively, 
to sustain the dignity of the positions 
which they occupy, are as forms without 
substance, shadows without reality. Tho' 
willing to serve the Administration from 
which I received my appointment, I cannot 
remain an officer of the Government with- 
out the power to maintain its dignity. 



So Aoirinbtttors anb Contsponbtnis. 

J, H, W, — ^There is considerable merit in 
your article, but the subject has been so 
frequently before the public, and treated 
in such a vast variety of styles, by very 
able hands, that it is worn thread-bare ; 
we must therefore decline it. Try some 
other. 

/Vq/l Jlom, — Thank you, for your good will 
and friendly expressions — *' almost thou 
persuadest us to be," &c. But that al- 
phabet beats us. And your earnestness 
is equal to any 2:30 time on record. 
May you win ; or, in other words, ** may 
you niver die at all, at all, but fwither 
like a po-esy " — may you. Still, a 

little more system might not be amiss. 

A. J» II. — We should be happy to oblige 
you, but think that you had better re- 
write it first, and in various ways im- 
prove it. 

PhUo. — The word Arizona is said to be de- 
rived f^om the Aztec, and means tilvfr- 
bearing. 



is 
8| 



HUTCHINGS' 

CALIFORSIA MAGAZINE. 

Vol. IA^. DECEMB.ER, 1859. JSTo. 6. 
THE GREAT TO-SEMITE VALLEY. 
CHAPTER IX. 
CnsiRim la l^i 



JV RIDE down 
yot this Tslley to 

PubatM fkll u d«- 
•erredlj eowudered 
uae «C >r not tbo 
ouMt cbumiDg of 
th«m bU. Leafing 
the boMl, our path- 
wftj U7 vnoog gi- 
tat pines, from two 
bondnd to two hun- 
dred ukI fifty feet 
la height, mod bo- 
iw»tbtbe refreshing 
■hade of oaUpreod- 
ingosks u>d other 
ireea. Not k (onnd 
toiAe (he es pressive 
Millneee tbmt reign- 
ed, M*e the oeca»- 

iuobI eUrping ud ainging of birds, or | the tope of the forest. Crystal itreanu 
'b« knr distant sighing of the hreeie in ! occaiionelly gurgled and rippled across 



242 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



the trail, whose sides are fringed with 
willows and wild flowers that are ever 
blossoming, and grass that is perpetually 
green. On either side of us stood al- 
most perpendicular cliffs, to the height 
of thirty-fiye hundred feet ; and on whose 
rugged faces, or in their uneyen tops and 
sides, here and there a stunted pine 
struggled to live, and eyery crag seemed 
crowned wkh some shrub or tree. The 
bright sheen of the riyer occasionally 
glistened from among the dense foliage 
of several long vistas that continually 
opened before us. At every step, some 
new picture of great beauty would pre- 
sent itself, and some new shapes and 
shadows from trees and mountains form 
new combinations of light and shade in 
this great kaleidoscope of nature. 

Surrounded by such scenes of lovliness 
and sublimity, we felt a reluctance to 
break the charm they had thrown upon 
us, by speech ; when our guide informed 
us that it would now be necessary for us 
to dismount and tie our animals, as we 
had nearly reached the foot of the faU, 
and the remaining distance was over a 
rough ascent of rocks, and would have to 
be accomplished on foot. As this was 
short, we threaded our way among bush- 
es and boulders, without much difficulty, 
until the heavy spray that saturated our 
clothing, and the velvety softness of the 
moist grasses growing upon the little 
ridge we had climbed, reminded us that 
we had reached the goal of our desire, 
and stood at the foot of the fall. 

The feeling of awe, wonder, and admi- 
ration^ — almost amounting to adoration — 
that thrilled our very souls, it is impossi- 
ble to portray, as we looked upon this 
enchanting scene. The gracefully un- 
dulating and wavy sheets of spray that 
fell in gauze-like and etherial folds ; now 
expanding, now contracting; now glit- 
tering in the sunlight, like a veil of dia- 
monds ; now changed into one vast many- 
colored cloud, that threw its misty drap- 



ery over the falling torrent, as if in very 
modesty, to veil its unspeakable beauty 
from our too eagerly admiring sight. 

In order to see this to the best advan- 
tage, the eye should take in only the foot 
of the fall at first, then a short section 
upwards, then higher, until, by degrees, 
the top is reached. In this way, the 
majesty of the waterfall is more fully 
realized and appreciated. 

The stream itself — about forty feet in 
width — resembles an avalanche of watery 
rockets, that shoots out over the preci- 
pice above you, at the height of nearly 
nine hundred feet, and then leaps down 
in one unbroken train to the immense 
cauldron of boulders beneath, where it 
surges and boils in its angry fury, throw- 
ing up large volumes of spray, over 
which the sun forms two magnificent 
rainbows that arch the abyss. 

Like most other tributaries of the 

* 

main middle fork of the Merced, this 
stream falls very low towards the close 
of the summer, but is seldom, if ever, 
encirely dry. When we visited the val- 
ley in July, 1855, this branch did not 
contain more than one-tenth the water 
seen in June of the present year ; and 
that amount was not more than the half 
of what it was three weeks before our 
visit. 

This river has its origin in a lake at 
the foot of a bold, crescent-shaped, per- 
pendicular rock, about thirteen miles 
above the edge of the Pohono fall. On 
this lake a strong wind is said to be con- 
tinually blowing ; and as several Indians 
have lost their life there, and in the 
stream, their exceedingly acute and su- 
perstitious imaginations have made it 
bewitched. 

One Indian woman was out gathering 
seeds, a short distance above these falls, 
when, by some mishap, she lost her bal- 
ance, and fell intx) the stream, and the 
force of the current carried her down 
with such velocity, that before any as- 



THE GREAT YO-SEMITE VALLEY. 



243 



oonld bo rendered, sbe wm 
tw«pt over the precipice, and wm never 
«een Afterw&rda. 

**PiAono," — from whom the rtream 
and the waUriall received their musical 
Indian name — ii an evil spirit, whoee 
brwth is a blighting and fatal wind, and 
oonseqaentlj is to be dreaded and shnn- 
D«d. On thia account, 
wfaonnar, from necessitj, 
the Indiana have to pasa 
it, k feeling of dietresa 
•tCMla over them, and thej 
few it at much as the 
wandering Arab doea the 
Aimooma of the African 
deaert; they huny paat 
h at the height of their 
■peed. To point at the 
iraterikll, when traveling 
in the valley, to their 
f ■■">■, ia certain death. 
So inducement could be 
oflered anfficiently large to 
unpt them to aleep near 
it. In fact, they believe 
that they hear the voices 
«f tkoae that have been 
diowned there, perpetually 
wantinc them to abun 
•' Pobono." 

How nnch more deeira- ' 
ble ia it to perpetuate 
Umm axprcMive Indian 
wamn — many of which 
mmboiy the euperstitiona 
and highly imaginative characteriatica of 
the Indian mind — than to give them 
Anglicised ones, be they never ao prettyT 
Wa think the name of "Bridal Veil" 
te thia waterfall is not only by far 
the Moat mnaical and suitable of any 
er of all others yet given, but is the 
oalj cae that ia at all worthy of the object 
named; and yet we coofesa, that we 
ihimid mnefa prefar the beantiful and 
) Indian name of " Pobono" 



to the "Bridal Veil." What say our 

The vertical, and at some pointa, over- 
hanging mountains on either aide of the 
Pobono posaoBs quite as much intereatas 
the fall itself, and add much to the 
grandeur and magnificence of the whole 
scene. A tower-shaped rock, about 2700 



THB POBOKO, OB BBIDAL VBIL nhh. 
[AvM • natagrvpk, bf C. L. ITHif.] 

feet in height, standing at the aoutfaweat 
aide of the fall, and nearly oppoeita "Tn- 
tooh'ab-nn-lah," having on its top a num- 
ber of prtgaoting rocks that very mnch 
reaemble cannon. In order to assist in 
perpetuating the beautiful legend pven 
inonrlaat number concerning that In- 
dian semi-deity, we chiist«ned itTu-toch- 
ab-nn-lah'a Citadel. 

Other wild and weird-like pwnta of 
equal interest atand before yon on I*- 



246 



norCHINGS' CAUFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



leaving aDimals, when Tisitors an 
their way to the Pi-wy-ac (Vemal), Yo- 
wi-ye, (NevftiJa) and other falls- on the 
main broncli of the river; the trail, in 
its present condiCioo, being loo rocky and 
rough t« admit of ita being traveled by 
horses or mules above this point. Now, 
however, we had to turn out of it, and 
soon found that, poor as it undoubtedly 
was, we were prepared to accord it any 
amount of excellence in comparison with 
the Bteep, boulder-filled and traillesB 
caAon of the south fork. 

Here we bad to stoop or creep beneath 
low arches ; there we assisted each other 
to climb a rock; yonder a spur shot out 
from the mountain to the vary margin of 
the stream, forcing us to cross it. At 
such places, fortunately, the few who bad 



THI SOCTD DOHE, AS SEBH FROM TUB CiVQH 

lottTB roBK. 

[fivm a fheiograiA bi a L. Wti.} 



preceded us, had bridged the riTer, by 
felling trees over it, thus enabling na to 
follow in their footsteps with great ad- 
vantage to ourselves. Miniature moon* 
ttUDS of loose rocks seemed to be piled 
on each other, still higher and hi^er, aa 
we advanced. 

It was aa amusing as it was aatooisb- 
ing, to see " Buck " advancing vrith enre 
and shoelese feet, seeking to aToid the 
overhanging limbs of this tree, or that 
rock, lest the inverted hurdy gurdy- 
looking instrument, one end of which 
was nearly a foot above his head, should 
strike them, and not only throw him 
backwards, at the risk of his neck, bat 
break the instrument into numberleas 
and unnecessary parts. 
About a mile and a half above the 
confluence of the south with 
the middle fork, we emer- 
ged from a heavy growth 
of timber, into an open and 
treeless chasm, the bed of 
which was covered with 
large angular rocks, bound- 
ed on either side with ver~ 
tjcal walla of time-worn and 
rain-stained granite. On 
the uneven tops of theae, a 
few of the Douglass spruce 
trees were struggling to 
weather the storms and live. 
Aboutthreeo'cIook,P.M., 
we reaohed the head of the 
cafion, and tii« foot of the 
Too-lu-lu-waok fall This 
oaflon here ia suddenly ter- 
minated by an irref^ular, 
borse-shoe shaped end, the 
sides and circle of which on 
the one side are perpendic- 
nlar, and on the other so 
maoh so a« to be inaccessi- 
ble, without great danger of 
slipping, and, oonsequentlj 
of being dashed to pieoes. 



THE GREAT TO-SBMITB VALLEY. 



247 



This waterfall u about htbh boiidred 
and fiftj feet in height, which, after 
■booting Of er the precipice, meets with 
no obstaele to break its deftoen^ antil it 
iiearl<r reaches the badn into which it 
falU. It is a fine sheet of water, of 
aboQt the tame Tolome as the To-Semite 
Inaoivd bj the Indians Cho-look), at the 
tine we Tisited and mesenred it. As we 
had no instraments for aioertaining the 
altitude of the Too-lu4u-wack fall, of 
coarM, the aboTe ie onlj given as iu ap- 
proumate height. 

The engraTing given of this on the pre- 
nding page twing taken below, presentg 
a side section onlj, as the diBtsnce sorosB 
the canon, opposite the fall, not being 
orer one handred and fiftjr jards, was 
r too short to allow 
o take in the 
wbule front Tiew on one pic- 

OurfadgaingBaceot hating 
occupied the greater portioD 
of the daj, and the lUDBhine 
baling al read J departed from 
the west tide of the canon, 
and as we were not prepared 
tu pass the night here, our 
work end return had to be 
oondncted with brsTitj snd 
despatch ; conse^jnentlj, the 
uoment the picture WBB taken 
we eommenced the descent. 
Od oar wBj down, we secur- 
ed • Tiew of Tis-sa'ack [the 
Soalh Dome) froni the south 
canon, and which from this 
point, presents a singular 
eooieal shape of that moun- 
tain whieh is not to be s«en 
from an J other poinL 

We fortunatelr reached our 
((oailersat the hotel in safety 
jnst aft«r dark, wall pleaaed 
with the remit of our diffi- 
en It nndertaking. While dis- 



cussing the Tiands of onr much relished 
erening's repast, we ventured to predict 
that, before five years bad elapsed, we 
should be able to ride to the very foot of 
each of thoee magnificent waterfalls. 
And we would respectfully suggest to 
residents in the valley, or others, that a 
good mule trail constructed, not only to 
the Tn-lu-ln-wack, but to the foot of the 
¥o-wi-ye fall i and up Indian canon, to 
the topof the great Yo-Semite, would not 
only prove a good investnient, at a &ir 
toll, but be a strong additional induce- 
ment to partiee of pleasure in visiting 
the valley. And we know, too, that 
every visitor will heartily respond with 
a hear^ — amen. 



HUTCHIKGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



niVBK BUSBINO TOSOUGH TBI OOBOE ABOVE TBI PI-WT-ACK FALL. 



CHAPTER XI. 
Oiul lo % ^i-iDj2-a[li, or Vtaal, aitb 

Wltboul good Eompuf' >U dilDtltrs 



BeiDforoed bj a party of old friends, 
of both Bezes, when our caralctkde set 
ODt the following morniiig, for the Fi- 
wj-aot and Yo-wi-je falls, it present 
ed quite a respectable appeBrtmce again, 
— we allude to the number, and not to the 
dress of either ladies or gentlemen, for, 
although many, especially of the gentler 
sex, when Tiuting this valley, have too 
often sacrificed good taste to show, and 
substantial comfort to preteutiouB display, 
we are happy to be able to sa; that those 



of this party did not indulge in any such 
iodiacretion. 

Journeying npon the ssme course as 
that described in our last chapter, to the 
point there alluded to, we fastened our 
animals and proceeded ou foot, by a bro- 
ken and rough trul, ap the mun and 
middle fork. Ou our left, at interrats, 
the uneven pathway lay beside the river; 
the thundering boom of whose waters 
rose at times above the sound of oar 
voices, for as soon as we had fairiy left 
the level valley and oommeuced our as- 
cent, that large stream formed one mag- 
nificent cataract, up to the very foot of 
the fall. 

Soon we came to the month of the 
South Fork, which we crossed on a nide 
and log-formed bridge. An eieelleat 
and nearly correct estimate of the qnan* 
tity of water rolling over the fall of this 
stream, can be formed from examining 
the several branches into which this 
stream is here divided. 



THE GREAT TO^^HITE VALLET. 



Cpwmid uid onwud we toiled; and &f- 
tv [Mating a point, we obtuned inddan- 
Ij, the int lijclit or the Pi-WT-«ok, or 
r«na] Fall. While gaiing at ita beau- 
liM, tet iu, now and fonrer, eanieatlj 
protest agwnat tha perpotnation of anj 
otbar noaenclatore to this wonder than 
Pi-^f-adb, the name which ia giTSn to it 
bj tha Indiani, and meana a thtnetr of 
tparkUng cryttalt, while "Temal" ooald 
with mDch more appropriataneaa be be- 
Bhnrad npon the name-giTer, aa the fall 



THs TO-wi-TK, om nxrtHL mll. 

iFrcm a PhalBffnipA ty (7. £. WUd.] 

ilaelf ia one t 



mat aheet of aparkUng 
brightneaa and anowj whiteneaa, in 
whloh there is not the ilighteat approii* 
mation, even in the tint, to anjUung 

Still Mowding and adTanoing, we w«a 
aoon enToloped in a aheet of batrj apray, 
driren down npon u with ioeb foroe aa 
to reaemble a hM*7 atotm of eomminnted 
rain. Now manj might anppoaa that 
tbia woold be aanojing, but it is no^ 
ai the onlj reallj onpleaaant part of 



250 



HUTCmNGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



the trip is that which we have here to 
take, through a wet, alluvial soil, from 
which, at every footstep, the water splash- 
es, or rather spirts out, much to the in- 
convenience and discomfort of ladies who 
wear long dresses. As the distance 
through this is but short, it is soon ao- 
complished, and in a few minutes we 
stood at the foot of ** the ladders.'^ Be- 
neath a large, overhanging rock, at our 
right, a man who takes toll for ascend- 
ing the ladders, eats, and " turns in'' to 
sleep upon the rock. The charge for as- 
cending and descending was seventy-five 
cents; and as this included the trail as 
well as the ladders, the charge was reas- 
onable. 

This fall we estimated — it has not been 
measured we believe — at two hundred 
and fifty or three hundred feet ; others 
have placed it as high as four hundred 
and fifty, but we think that such an esti- 
mate is altogether too high. It is cer- 
tainly an awe-inspiring and wonderful 
object to look upon. 

Ascending the ladders, we reached an 
elevated plateau of rock, on the edge of 
which, and about breast high, is a natu- 
ral wall of granite that seems to have 
been constructed by nature for the espe- 
cial benefit and convenience of people 
with weak nerves, enabling them to lean 
upon it and look down over the precipice 
into the deep chasm below. 

Advancing gently and pleasantly, we 
arrived at a gorge, through which the 
river rushed with great speed and power, 
and on the angry bosom of which, dead 
trees, that we rolled in were as mere 
waifs. Near this we took lunch. 

About half a mile above is the great 
Yo-wi-ye, or Nevada fall, the estimated 
height of which is seven hundred feet. 
After the base of this fall is reached, or 
as nearly so as the eddying clouds of 
spray will permit, it appears to be differ- 
ent in shape to either of the others ; for, 
although it shoots over the precipice in 



a curve, and descends almost perpendicur 
larly for four-fifths of the distance, it then 
strikes the smooth surface of the moun- 
tain, and spreads, and forms a beautiful 
sheet of silvery whiteness, about on^ 
hundred and thirty feet in width. 



A wandering Camp Stool, from the 
mountains, claims to introduce its load 
of indignation. 

The Hon. Horace Greeley, having spent 
a whole day in the Yo-Semite Valley, has 
gone and published to his two hundred 
thousand readers, as the result of his ob- 
servations, that the Great Fall is "a Aiim- 
bugl" 

Now this Camp Stool holds up its three 
legs, and in the most solemn manner 
which a Camp Stool is capable of assum- 
ing, asseverates that the fall is not " a 
humbug." Camp Stool protests against 
any of nature's works being termed ''a 
humbug.'' Least of all, one of the grand- 
est ever created. 

Ask the painters of California, who 
now make their annual pilgrimage to 
this Art Gallery of Nature, to receive in- 
spiration among its sublime pictures, if 
it is a " a humbug " 7 Who, better than 
they, are capable of determining whether 
it is so or not ? It is their hourly occu- 
pation, to watch the ever-changing beau- 
ty and grandeur of nature, and their 
delightful business, day by day, to trans- 
fer, as far as in their power lies, that 
beauty and that grandeur, to the can- 
vass. Were the Fall " a humbug," they 
would not sit, as they do, for days, vainly 
endeavoring to catch the fleeting forms 
of its gauzy mist, or watch so eagerly the 
glorious majesty of its waters, thunder- 
ing down its rocky steeps. To them it 
is a Great Teacher; and, in love and 
humbleness do they receive its lessons. 

Ask the hunters, who, in pursuit of 
game, have penetrated to the valley, 
while it was buried beneath the deep 
snows of winter, and when the sculptor- 



ipHE GREAT TCM3EMITE YALLEY. 



251 



ed whiteness of the giant mountains 
pierced vith dazzling brightness the 
dark and threatening clonds which low- 
ered round their summits. When the 
spraj of falls, becoming congealed, forms 
at their base a multitude of icy pinnacles, 
each a hundred feet in height And when 
the mist, driven by the bleak winds, 
along the face of the cliffs, encrusts them 
with an armor of ice, which sparkles and 
glistens in the morning sun, like burnish- 
ed sOrer. And when, as the day ad- 
▼aneee, great sheets of this icy coating 
become detached, and go thundering 
down the abyss, dashing themselves up- 
on the rocks below, with a crash, which 
seems to shake the very foundations of 
the mountains. 

Ask the hundreds of travelers, who, 
later in the season, when the winter's 
aceamiilation of snow was melting fast, 
hare seen the swollen torrent come over 
the cliils in a compact mass, leaping en- 
tirrfy clear of the precipice, and strick- 
tng the shelving ledge below, with a con- 
tinaoQS roar, whose thunders echoed and 
re-echoed along the cliffs, until every 
turret, dome and spire, for miles around, 
added its voice to the universal din. 
When the whole valley becomes a lake, 
froin the vast overflowing of the great 
wmtera. 

Ask the reverend divines, who have 
stood at the base of the falling flood, and 
while gazing upon the inspiring specta- 
cle, have ezcldmed with deep emotion, 
•• The Lord God reigneth " I I 

Ask any one of the thousands of trav- 
elers, who have visited the valley, who 
has a soul in his body capable of appre- 
ciating the grandeur of nature, in her 
wildest moods, if the Fall is "a humbug I" 
Ask the everlasting rocks, themselves, 
if "a humbug" carved those frightful 
chasms, deep in their adamantine sides. 
No ! Not one of all this " cloud of wit- 
Dcnes " will sustain the heartless, the 
eoU-hlooded asaertion. 
Ton, Mr. Editor, have chunbered up 



to the top of the dizzy hight, and can tell 
the honorable calumniator the dimen- 
sions of his " trout atreamJ* You can 
tell him that it was thirty-four fed and 
six inches teide, and with an average 
depth of one foot. And this in June! 
when the volume was not half so lar^e 
as it was in May. 

But the man who can see no beauty in 
the Fall, even when its waters are di- 
minished to a mere " tape line^" could 
not truly appreciate it, if '* a Niagara " 
occupied its place. 

There is no such phenomenon as " a 
Niagara" or '*a Mississippi," falling 
from a great hight. All lotty cascades 
are small in volume. It is their chief 
attribute, to ornament with contrasting 
beauty, the massive ruggedness of the 
rocks over which they fall. The very 
attenuation of the stream increases the 
grandeur of the cliffs. 

Camp Stool may almost assert that aU 
substances having great height, are small 
in circumference. As, for instance, the 
pine trees and the palms ; and, in a com- 
parative sense, the attenuated stalk of 
wheat, than which, nothing can be more 
graceful. 

Man but imitates the proportions of 
nature, when he gives to a beautiful 
monumental column the greatest height 
which ite circumference will sustain with 
safety. Did Mr. Greeley, while at the 
grove of Big Trees, happen to notice one 
of the thousand graceful firs, whose 
plume-like summit was not greatlv over* 
topped even by ite ** big brothers ''^of the 
forest T If he was not too busily engaged 
in calculating how manv boards the Tat- 
ter would make, to cast his practical eye 
on ordinary trees. Camp Stool would like 
to ask him which were the more beauti- 
ful, the Fir — perfect in proportion, tow- 
erine to the utmost height which ^ ite 
slender trunk could sustain, or ite neigh- 
bor, the bloated, apoplectic "Big Tree;'? 
Perhaps it is presumptuous for an in- 
significant Camp Stool to attack so dis- 
tinguished a person as the honorable 
Horace Greeley; but a warm love for 
the grand scenery of the noble State 
which he calls hu own, is one of the 
chief of a Califomian's virtues. And by 
virtue of this feeling, if the Chair Presi- 
dential, the august chur of Buchanan, 
himself, should publish to the world stioh 
a downright insmt to the great Califomis 
family of wonhippors of the sublime in 
nature, this particular Camp Stool would 



252 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



raise its le^ in feeble, though earnest 
protest against it. Oamp Stool. 



THE HONEY BEE OF CALIFORNIA. 

In connection with the illustration 
which we present to our readers, of the 
Apiary of Harbison & Bros, we also give 
a statistical sketch of the rise and pro- 
gress of this, now quite lucrative branch 
of husbandry. 

During the month of February, 1853, 
Mr. C. A. Shelton, formerly of Galveston, 
Texas, started from New York ' with 
twelve swarms of bees (in which Com- 
modore Stockton and G. W. Aspinwall 
were interested) and arrived in San 
Francisco during the month of March 
following, with but one live swarm : this 
he put on board a steamer bound for 
San Jose ; en route the steamer burst her 
boiler and, though Mr. Shelton was num- 
bered with the dead, his bees escaped 
uninjured, and were taken to San Jose. 
Of their increase we are not fully advised. 
In the fall of 1854, Messrs. Buck & Ap- 
pleton, of San Jose, received the next 
swarm which was brought to California. 
During the fall of 1855, Mr. J. S. Harbi- 
son, of Sacramento, who was thoroughly 
acquainted with the habits and treatment 
of the bee from an early period of his 
life, sent East for a swarm, which arriv- 
ed in Sacramento February 1st, 1856; 
most of the bees had died during the 
passage. Enough, however, remained to 
prove that, with careful handling, they 
could be successfully imported and al- 
lowed to propagate in California. Hav- 
ing full confidence in this, he returned to 
the Atlantic States in the spring of 1857, 
and prepared for shipment, sixty-seven 
Bwarms, with which he arrived in Sacra- 
mento December 1st of the same year. 
By the March following, the effects of 
the voyage reduced them to fifty, at which 
time they were again reduced to thiriy- 
foari by sale. During the ensuing sum- 



mer (1858) he increased these to one 
hundred and twenty; and in the fidl he 
sold all save six. Again, on the steamer 
of September 20th, 1858, he went East 
for the purpose of transporting another 
stock, which had been prepared for that 
purpose during the previous spring and 
summer. On the 6th of December, he 
sailed from New York with one hundred 
and fourteen colonies, and arrived in 
Sacramento January 1st, 1859, vrith one 
hundred and three, in a living condition. 
Of this importation, sixty-eight were 
from Centralia, Illinois — the longest dis- 
tance which bees have been knovm to be 
transported — the remaining forty-six 
were from Lawrence county, Penn. The 
length of his last voyage, together with 
the backward and unfavorable spring of 
1859, decreased the number of this im- 
portation to sixty-two: these, with the 
remaining six from the previous year, he 
increased to four hundred and twentj- 
two colonies; or, at an average increase 
to the hive of five and seven thirty- 
fourths. During the fall just past^ he sold 
two hundred and eighty-four swarms. 
The plan for the now celebrated " Harbi- 
son Hive,'' was perfected by J. S. Harb- 
ison, between the 20th of December, 
1857, and the 18th of January, 1858, at 
which time he mailed his application for 
the patent, which was issued January 
4th, of the present year; farther im- 
provements have since been made by him 
which, in due time, will be made public. 
From as close an estimation as can be 
made, by those well informed, the State 
now contains three thousand two hun- 
dred swarms, of which number twelve 
hundred are in the Harbison hive. 

Of the modes of importing bees to Cali- 
fornia, the most novel was that of Mr. J. 
Gridley, who brought four swarms across 
the plains from Michigan, lashed to the 
back part of his wagon ; he arrived at 
Sacramento on the 3d of August last, 
and seemed much surprised on learning 



THE HONEY BEE IN OALITORNIA. 253 



4 



254 



HUTCHING8' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



this 



the extent of their cultiyatioii in 
State. 

Ab an instance of the growing im- 
portance of this branch of industry, it 
may be of interest to state that Mr. L. 
Warner, at Sacramento, (who is the Gen- 
eral Agent of Mr. Harbison) has sold, 
since the 1st of August of this year, up- 
wards of sixteen thousand dollars worth 
of bees. Mr. W. has been engaged in 
the business since the year 1855, and 
sold the first swarm of bees in the Sac- 
ramento valley. 

Many of those interested in bees, have 
of late expressed fears lest the country 
would soon be overstocked : if such per- 
sons will consider for a few moments the 
large population of this State, and which 
is daily increasing, but few of whom, as 
yet, have a single swarm, (for all the bees 
in the State are contained in nine coun- 
ties) and let them also consider that the 
people of the United States are hut just 
finding out how to make bee keeping 
profitable, and if this will not quiet their 
nerves, let them make a few figures on 
the demand and limited supply of honey. 
In Germany, where the best and most 
scientific attention has been devoted to 
bee keeping, for the last two centurieSf 
and whose authors have thrown more 
light upon the natural history of the bee, 
than any others in the knovm world, 
the people find the business very lucra- 
tive. To one who has not made a close 
calculation, it may seem a bold assertion, 
but it is an undeniable fact, that Califor- 
nia can export honey and wax with profit 
to the New York market 1 The climate 
of California is peculiarly adapted to bee 
culture ; for, while a swarm in the At- 
lantic States does well when it produces 
two swarms and from twenty-five to 
thrity pounds of honey, in the vicinity 
of the Sacramento river, five strong 
swarms can be made from the one that 
will yield surplus honey during the sea- 
8on» which may be set down as from the 



latter part of February to the first of 
November,— eight months ! two-thirds of 
the year I And there is not a month in 
the year' but what they may be seen oat 
of the hive. It has been said that *' the 
bee will cease to lay up stores for winter 
when it learns that forage is so easily 
obtained''; those who speak thus, cer- 
tainly know nothing of its natural hia- 
tory, for no bee (save the queen) ever lives 
over six months, and during the height of 
the working season, they seldom attain 
the age of fifty days ; hence, if no better 
reason could be produced (and there can 
be) they would never find out the fiftct in 
time to profit by it. In any and all 

countries, bees will work, as long as they 
have pasturage, and room in which to 
store the produce of their labors. 

The honey bee, which from the early 
dawn of civilisation, has been the wonder 
of philosophers and the admiration of 
poets, is now attracting a degree of at- 
tention in this land of fiowers, that will, 
in the course of a few years, enable us 
to speak of our State as one literally 
" flowing with milk and honey." 

Much in regard to the habits of this 
interesting insect, which was formerly 
enveloped in profound mystery, has re- 
cently been explained, through the agen- 
cy of the ingenious transparent hives that 
are now in common use ; and many of 
the facts which curiosity has disoovered, 
have been of great pecuniary benefit to 
the practical apiarian. 

In the family of twenty-four thousand, 
which compose a good swarm of bees, 
there are about two thousand drones and 
one queen. The others are called work- 
ers. The queen is a large, long, grace- 
ful insect, with a small waist and small 
wings ; she moves about in the hive with 
great rapidity, depositing her eggs in the 
cells prepared by the workers for that 
purpose, and acts as the leader in the 
exodus of the new swarm. She lives 
about three years. 



THE HONET BEE IN CALIFORNIA. 



255 



The workers whioh, of coarse, oom- 
po0e the most of the hive, are small and 
eompactin form, and vigorous in their 
moTemenls. They are supposed to be 
imperfectly developed females, and are 
generally called neuters. They have the 
power of producing from the ordinary 
grub or egg, a queen, when, from any 
eaoee, one is required. The means by 
which this singular result is accomplish- 
ed, is not known, but it is believed by 
•ome of those who have given the matter 
their careful attention ,that a peculiar kind 
of food, which unerring instinct desig- 
natea, has much to do in producing the 
queen! 

The drones, which are the males, are 
coneiderably larger than the workers, 
and move about slowly, rarely leaving 
the interior of the hive, except in very 
pleasant weather. They collect no honey, 
and in antunm they are nearly all des- 
troyed by the workers, to which they fall 
an easy prey, being destitute of stings. 
Nursing the young, building the cells 
and collecting the honey together, with 
all the fif^hting with rival swarms, de- 
Tolvea upon the workers ; which in in- 
dnstryt and in fidelity to their superiors, 
affofd an example worthy of the imita- 
tion of rational creatures. 

Volumes might be written upon the 
singalar habits of the bee, but I propose 
to simply state a few practical facte in 
eooneetion with bee raising in California, 
and to point out the great advantages it 
has over other localities. It has by some 
been iagely assumed that, on account of 
the mildness of our winters, bees will 
have DO moiive for working, and will, 
eosieeqnently, become ** lazy ** ; but this 
belief is unfounded in philosophy or fact, 
for, bees work from instinctf and not from 
motive, as for the attainment of an olject 
which reason shows to be necessary, and 
it is a laet that in the Red river swamps, 
idiere the climate is more mild than that 
of this State, bees abound in the greatest 



profusion, and fill the trees with vast 
quantities of honey which they never 
consume. 

All things considered, California, as a 
honey producing State, has no equal. 
The climate is not so warm as to melt 
the combs, and so mild are our winters 
that the bees can work during the entire 
year, in the vallies. During about two 
months in the rainy season, they do not 
collect quite so much honey as they con- 
sume; but, during the remaining ten 
months, they are constantly accumulat- 
ing a surplus. 

In the Atlantic States, they produce 
but little honey between the last of June 
and the middle of September, the time 
at which the buckwheat fields are in 
bloom, when they enjoy a short season of 
honey-gathering, that is suddenly termi- 
nated by the frosts, which make them 
consumers until the blooming of orchards 
in the ensuing spring. In this State, at 
all seasons, they have access to rich 
honey-producing sources, among which 
I may mention the tule swamps, the bot- 
tom willows, the mustard fields, the num- 
erous flower gardens, and the vast pro- 
fusion of wild flowers which, during a 
considerable portion of the year, beautify 
our fertile plains, and gracefully undulat- 
ing foot hills, and adorn even the lofty 
summits of our mountains. In the val- 
ley of the Sacramento, there is a pecu- 
liar plant or shrub which, in the drye^it 
part of the year, affords largo quantities 
of the flnest honey. 

In the valley of the San Joaquin, after 
the spring flowers are past, during the 
months of July and August, they gather 
mainly from the Button-bush; and from 
that time to the end of the year, nearly 
every oak tree being covered with a kind 
of honey dew, they gather from this their 
mmn harvest The sap of the Osage or- 
ange is also much used. Their principal 
time of working is from ten to three 
o^clock. 



256 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



From ODO hive, in Capt. Webber's 
garden, at Stockton, housed April 5th, 
1857, the following quantities of honey 
were taken the same year : — 

27th April 18 pounds 6 ounces. 

4th June 17 do 

6th July 17 do 8 do 

20th July 20 do 

11th August 20 do 

2d September 19 do 

and during the same month, twenty lbs. 
more, giving a total of 132 pounds sur- 
plus honey, and one swarm of bees. 

To every twenty pounds of honey, 
about one pound of wax is produced. 
Honey left for their sustenance during 
the winter was never touched ; proving 
that a certain amount of honey is pro- 
duced here all the year. Since then they 
have yielded from two to three swarms of 
bees per year, and when this is done, less 
honey is gathered and stored. 

Moths, and other insects, which often 
prove destructive to bees in the Atlantic 
States, have seldom given the apiarian 
any trouble, except in the case of weak 
hives, brought from the East. The nat- 
ural vigor of the bees in this country, 
enables them to repel all such foreign in- 
vaders. 

In the Atlantic States a hive rarely 
swarms more than once in a season ; but 
here, a single hive has been known to 
produce in one year, no less than nine 
healthy swarms, making, with the origi- 
nal, ten swarms ; and, in one instance, 
in Sacramento county, a single hive pro- 
duced eight swarms direct — two from the 
first new one, and two from the second — 
making an increase of twelve swarms in 
one year, which, with the original hive, 
yielded one hundred and twenty-five 
pounds of honey. 

When the production of honey is the 
principal object, the swarms are not di- 
vided 80 often as when the multiplication 
of the number of hives is desired by the 
owner. Under favorable circumstances, 



five good swarms can yearly be produced 
from one, when increase in the number 
of hives is the main object ; and, under 
ordinary circumstances, an increase of 
four per year may be put down as a 
moderate average. If the production of 
honey be the leading object, each old 
hive will annually yield two new swarms, 
and with these new swarms, furnish one 
hundred and fifty pounds of honey. In 
this State each hive will, of itself, yearly 
produce twice the quantity of honey 
which, with the same amount of atten- 
tion, it would yield in the Atlantic States. 

The ruling price for a full hive of bees 
is one hundred doll&rs. Eighteen months 
ago, a gentleman in San Jose, purchased 
six good hives for six hundred dollars, and 
since that time, he has realized from 
their increase alone, the snug sum (in 
cash) of eight thousand dollars. 

Such are a few brief but significant 
facts concerning the culture of bees in 
this State. The demand for honey which, 
at wholesale, is worth about fifty cents 
per pound, is greater than the supply, 
and even at greatly reduced prices, bee 
raising must, with the facilities afforded 
by California, remain a safe, profitable 
and agreeable business. 

Of the many moveable comb hives now 
in use, Langstroth's is considered by 
many practical apiarians, as one of the 
best ; but the common bee hive answers 
a very good purpose, and perhaps, fur 
those unacquainted with the bee busi- 
ness, they are preferable to any of the 
complicated patent hives. 

Among the books on bee culture that 
may be read with profit by those inter- 
ested in the further examination of this 
subject, I may mention Quimby on Bee 
Keeping, and the last edition of Lang- | 
stroth on Bees. They contain much cu- 
rious and valuable practical information 
in regard to matters pertaining to bees, 
and should form part of the library of 
every apiarian. J. A. B. 



OUR LITTLE ANGEL. 



257 



#nr JMe %^l 



Words by G. T. 8FBOAT. 
J(0!Btmo9O eon ttprMtione. 



Kusio bj JAB. O, ITRMP. 





dra - per - y Stainless and white ; Bright - Ij the morn -ing Is 



tg 



S 



m- 




i^i-f4- 



S 



f 



^^^^ 



£ 




i^^^^#4^#^ 



shin - ing a - broad — Our lit - tie an - gel Has gone home to God. 




n. 

Sweet birds are singing 

On rose-tree and thorn. 
Are they rejoicing 

A sweet spirit born ? 
Bora into heaven — 

Her life-journejr trod ? 
Oor little angel 

Haa gone home to God 1 



m. 

Weep no more for her f 

There let her rest I 
With her hands folded 

Calm on her breast. 
Dress her with violets 

Fresh from the sod !-^ 
Our little angel 

Has gone home to God t 



258 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



"GOOD BYE." 

BT A MIW C0KTEIBT7T0B. 

"Goodbye!" 
How maDj an ear bae sadly beard 
That heart-felt, dear old Saxon word; 
How many a shadow has it cast 
Upon the sunlight of the past. 
And so yon pen it — does it end 
In thoughts and memories of a friend? 
And for the fntnre, does "good bye" 
Mean that yon pass one coldly by 
Like the great crowd of other men ? 
If so, my hand can never pen 

"Goodbye." 



Good bye I 
It is an easy word to trace ; 
Good byel thy quiet soul-lit face 
Has been to me a daily prayer, — 
Good bye, God keep thee in his care ! 
Our kindred thoughts are all unspoken, 
Kind memories will remain unbroken ; 
The glance and tone that wound the heart. 
With no " good bye " will e'er depart. 
The pott is mine — I claim it yet — 
I could not, if I would, forget. 

"Goodbye!" 



Goodbye! 
I gazed upon the heavens to-night, 
And saw the stars, in splendor bright, 
Look down from that great silver sea 
Upon a mortal man like me j — 
Thy soul has ever seemed as far 
Above me as an nndimmed star ; 
I saw its spirit-radiance shine 
And reverenced as a light divine. 
Forgive me, that I dared to dream 
My eye might catch a single beam. 
Unworthy though I seem to thee, 
A silent friend still let me be, 
Then will I gaee once in thine eye 
And say, with thee, a last " Good bye !" 

"Goodbye!" 

"Goodbye!" 



AGNES EMERSON. 
A Talc of the Revolution, 

BY GOKDON QKSINLAW. 
EPOCH FIKST.~THB AMERICAN KKVOLUTION. 



[OonMniud from page S96.] 
CRAPTXK III. 

Convdlescence.^Love, — The Quarrd, 

** To My he loTed 
Wts to affirm what oft hii eye arouch'd. 
What many an aetlon testified, and yet 
What watfted confirmation of hia tODgae.** 

Bbiudav Kvowlsb. 

It was some days before Harrison was 
able to be moved from his bed, and dur- 
ing that time the constant attention nec- 
essary for one in his condition, continued 
to be shown to him by Hartley, as well as 
by his kind hosts. 

He saw, however, but little of the 
young lady, who had already to some 
extent captivated his heart ; two or three 
brief visits a day being all that he had 
been favored with. When, however, he 
was able to move into the adjoining room, 
his strength, too, being equal to prolong- 
ed conversation, he enjoyed lengthy* and 
frequent interviews with both Miss Em- 
erson and her brother. From his old 
schoolfellow he learned much of the ac- 
tual condition, not only of the city, but 
of the whole country, and these details 
served but the more to strengthen the 
sympathy he already felt for the revolu- 
tionists. 

Wm. Emerson and his sister were, in 
heart, supporters of the cause of eman- 
cipation from the thraldom of the mother 
country ; but their father, a large Vir- 
ginian proprietor, always had been and 
still was, strongly opposed to that resort 
to arms which a long system of injustice 
had eventuated in. Nevertheless, Mr. 
Emerson, senior, being well acquainted 
with all the facts, was, truth to say, but 
a lukewarm Royalist, and but for early 
associations, and fixed opinions bb U> the 



AGNES EMERSON. 



259 



isme rigkU of Kings^ might possibly 
hftTe been a rebel whig himself. 

The old gentleman had, in early youth, 
hddaeommiMioninthearmy; had been 
out in what was then termed The Affair 
of Ibrtif^fice^ and nsed proudly to point 
to the stamp of his amputated arm, the 
resnlt of a slight tap from one of those 
fearfal weapons, the Sootoh broadsword. 
It woold nerer do, he used to remark, 
tat him who had onoe drawn the Kinf^'s 
pay, and enjoyed a pension for his lost 
m e m ba t fin* over thirty years, to use his 
other arm in opposing the Royal forces ; 
aad« mereorer, as he had only the left 
arm ieft^ further swcmi drawing had bet- 
ter be left alone. 

Soefa were the particulars gathered by 
George, in his oonTorsations with Emer- 
son and his sister, the- former of whom 
longed to join the American army, and 
would, ere this, haTO done so, but for the 
fear of wounding the feelings of his fath- 
er, who was expected, wheneyer oppor- 
tunity offered, to arrive in New York. 

Weeks now passed away. George was 
imlj gaining health and strength, and 
would be compelled shortly to resume 
his military seryice. His constant inters 
course with the beautiful and fascinating 
Agnes, bad matured his first predilections 
into the warmest and most deroted affec- 
tion, but to give utterance to the feelings 
of hie heart seemed to him impossible. 
Was be not about to return to duties 
whieh would place him in opposition to 
thoee for whose welfare aid success were 
offend the daily and hourly prayers of 
the Aaaerieaa maiden T Oh, how he now 
haled the profession that he had em- 
braced. Already, through Hartley, he 
had aaeertained that no application, eith- 
m fcr esehange or for permission to quit 
the ssrviee, would be for a moment en- 
tertained at Head Quarters. Misery, on 
tbe one hand, and death and dishonor on 
the other, were apparently the only al- 

laMer, to one of his noble 



disposition, were impossible, and it only 
remained to nerve himself to the beariug 
of the former. 

Partly from its being known that Mr. 
Emerson, senior, was an old soldier 
and a loyalist, and partly from the re- 
ports of its inmates, spread by Hartley, 
Wm. Emerson's house was frequently 
visited by British officers ; and even Sir 
Henry Clinton, amidst his moltifarioas 
duties, had found time to call twice: 
once to see Harrison, and once, as he ex- 
pressed it, to pay the proper respect due 
to the daughter of an old King's officer. 

The young lady, however, showed such 
a lack of loyalty in the manner she re- 
plied to Sir Henry's remarks, that he d'd 
not repeat his vbit, and had she consult- 
ed some spiritualist of the day (if there 
were any) she might have learned that 
she figured in the British Commander's 
memoranda of Rebels, as " Enthusiastic, 
beautiful and dangerous ; under the con' 
trol of a worthy and loyal faihety and a 
dreamy and doubtful brother" 

The constant visits of the officers of 
Harrison's and other regiments, gave 
that young gentleman a new opportunity 
of studying the character of Agnes, 
namely, how she conducted herself in 
the reception of the many flatteries and 
compliments offered her on all hands. 
Truly, she maintained her part well, re- 
ceiving them with just such sufficient 
acknowledgment as politeness demanded, 
but in so cool and quiet a way as plainly 
showed that they dwelt not a moment in 
her memory. 

Towards George, however, her manner 
had insensibly become warmer. Invol- 
untarily she found herself stealing looks 
towards him, even when surrounded by 
others. On his opinion she seemed to 
depend, when any subject was under 
discussion ; whilst his tender, assiduous, 
but never obtrusive attentions to herself, 
were treasured up in the innermost re- 
oeseea of her heart. 



260 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



Agnes was not woman of the world 
enough to conceal a partiality she could 
not deny to herself; and some there were 
who, not perceiving the delicate and af- 
fectionate attentions of Harrison, saw 
with clearer eyes her evident preference 
of him to the hutterflies around her. 

Among the occasional visitors to the 
house was Lord Edward Thynne, a young 
Lieutenant of Cavalry, with a handsome 
person, but by no means corresponding 
disposition. Lord Edward was a clever 
man, well read, satirical, and spiteful ; 
but his most prominent feature was self- 
love. Vain of his family, vain of his 
person, vain of his acquirements, he con- 
sidered he had but to come, to see, and 
to conquer. To the world at large, so 
well did he play his part, that his lord- 
ship actually appeared all he wished to 
be thought; he was called handsome, 
high spirited, generous, well bred, and 
clever. To Agnes, however, he was 
simply odious, and she made but little 
effort to conceal her aversion. 

It was one evening, two days before 
George was to return to his regimental 
duties, that Wm. Emerson had invited 
four or five of his brother officers to din- 
ner, as a parting compliment to his old 
schoolfellow. After dinner. Miss Emer- 
son retired, with three lady guests, re- 
questing her brother and the gentlemen 
to follow soon, as several others had been 
asked to drop in to coffee. 

Among the latter, was Lord Edward 
Thynne, and he arrived in company with 
Captain Barclay and another, just as 
Harrison, having made his escape from 
the gentlemen below, entered the draw- 
ing-room. 

The conversation turned on the late 
horrible massacre .at Wyoming, and, 
while all condemned it in most unquali- 
fied terms, the expressions of loathing 
and hatred for the perpetrators, which 
fell from the lips of Miss Emerson, were 
the strongest and most vehemently utter- 



ed. From Lord Edward, who attempted 
to stay the violence of her denunciations, 
she turned with a shortness and sudden- 
ness almost rude, (for when excited, Ag- 
nes was not exactly a stickler for all the 
minutisB of politeness), and tamed her 
eyes instinctively to those of Harrison, 
in whose face she read a perfect refleo* 
tion of her own sentiments, although he 
appeared grieved at her vehemence. All 
this she saw at a glance. Crossing the 
room, towards him, she calmed herself 
instantly, and said : "Come, Mr. Harri- 
son, and join me in singing the Landing 
of the Pilgrim Fathers, it may tend to 
allay our excitement, and make us more 
christian-like." 

''Ah, Miss Emerson, that is well," 
cried Captain Barclay, "for yoa are 
dreadfully bitter ; remember, scripture 
tells us to Move our enemies.' '' 

" ' And pray for those who despitefully 
use you,' " replied Agnes; "why. Cap- 
tain Barclay, I should have to pray for 
you" 

" To secure your prayers, one would 
almost be inclined to bear the odium of 
despitefully using you," said the Captain, 
good humoredly. 

" Such love as the lady may have for 
her enemies, is decidedly, in this case, 
only singular,** sarcastically observed 
Lord Edward, with an expressive and 
unmistakable look at Harrison. 

George was at this moment in the act 
of handing Agnes to a chair, and ar- 
ranging the mifsic for the proposed song. 
She retained his hand in her grasp for a 
moment, with a significant pressure de- 
siring silence, while the color suffused 
her face, neck, and arms, even to the tips 
of her fingers. Recovering herself, by 
the strong effort of a powerful will, and 
drawing up her girlish but stately figure 
to its fullest height, she fixed her eyes, 
flashing with indignation, full on the 
tory lord. 

" And who, my lord," said she in a 



AGNES EMERSON. 



261 



eontemptiioiu tone, " gave you the right, 
in this house, to judge of, or o&ll in ques- 
tion, m J love for my enemies, either sing- 
ular or plural, indiridual or general f be 
assured, it can have no affinity with 
either arrogance, conceit, or imperti- 
sence. Sam,'' she continued, to a negro 
bringing in tea and coffee, *' show Lord 
Edward Thynne to my brother's study, 
till it suits his conyenience to proceed to 
his quarters." 

Sinking into a chair, she buried her 
foee in her hands, while, choking with 
suppressed passion. Lord Edwsrd hurri- 
ed from the apartment, and rushing past 
the negro, had just reached the bottom 
of the stairs when a heayy hand was laid 
on his shoulder. 

** My Lord, I could not let yon go with- 
out telling you that your conduct is that 
of an unmannered whelp, who, but for 
respeet to those in this house, I would 
honewhip out of it." 

** Enough, my rebel lady's champion," 
answered Lord Edward, in a husky 
whisper, '* there is no need to goad a 
willing horse ; you shall hear from me 
in the morning," and flinging himself 
free from Harrison, he strode forth from 
thehoose. 



CHAPTIK IT. 

The Dud, 

** It It a Hmge, qoick jar, upon the ear, 
Thsl cocktDf of a pistol, whan jroa know 
A Bomcot nore wIU bring Um tight to bear 
CpoD joor porton, twalre jrarda off, or to.** 

.Braos. 

By the time Miss Emerson had re- 
covered her self-possession, which she 
did in a few moments, George was agun 
in the room, his absence not occupying a 
minute; he pressed her to take a glass 
ef weak wine and water, which, it would 
almoet appear, in his momentary absence 
he had been to procure ; whereas, it was 
to a negro servant that she was really 
indebted for this thoughtfulness. Ap- 
parently satisfied that this was the real 



cause of his leaving her, she thankfully 
accepted it. 

At this instant, the sound of footsteps 
ascending the stairs, gave intimation of 
the approach of the gentlemen from the 
dining room. 

'* Let us," said Miss Emerson, hastily, 
''forget the unpleasantness of the last 
few minutos, and discuss it no farther. 
What say you to aSootohreel? Gaptiun 
Barclay has already asked me, if such a 
dance were proposed, to be his partner." 

" Ah, Hartley, just in time," cried the 
good-natured Barclay, as that gentleman 
entered the room followed by the others, 
** secure a partner, if you can, from the 
few ladies here ; Miss Emerson honors 
me with her hand for a reel — quite an 
impromptu affair, I assure you." 

Hartley, Emerson, and another of the 
gentlemen acted at once on the sugges- 
tion, and Captain Barclay's foresight hav- 
ing early in the evening secured the at- 
tendance of a violinist and a harpist, the 
dance commenced. 

The quick eye of Hartley was, howev- 
er, not to be deceived. The confused 
looks of the ladies, and the abstracted 
manner of his own partner, convinced 
him that some contretemps had occurred, 
which, despite their efforte, damped the 
spirite of the minority of the party. 

At the conclusion of the dance, the 
ladies partook of tea, coffee, or negus, 
which the gentlemen assiduously pressed 
upon them. No further dancing was 
proposed, and Miss Emerson appearing 
weary and indisposed, the visitors, with 
natural good breeding, took their leave 
as quickly as politeness allowed. 

George accompanied Hartley towards 
the door, availing himself of the oppor- 
tunity to push him into his own room, 
with the intimation that he wished to 
speak to him, and would be back as soon 
as he had bid the Emersons good night. 

On his return he carefully bolted the 
door, and proceeded to give Hartley a 



£02 



HUTCHINOS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



detail of the whole a£fair, and requested 
his friendly offices in the event which 
must of a certainty ensue. 

'* Certainly, my dear fellow, certainly/' 
said Hartley. " So Thynne is showing 
out in his true colors, at last— envious, 
mean, and spiteful. I never fancied that 
man, and don't know how he has bam- 
boozled so many into liking him. Bye- 
the-bye, Harrison, he is a crack shot, so 
no nonsense of firing in the idr, mind, 
or he'll shoot you dead as a herring ; 
cover him well with your pistol, so as to 
spoil his aim. It is a pity, as you will 
have the choice of weapons, that you 
are not stronger, else swords would be 
the best for you ; but one bout would ex- 
haust you, so pistols it must be. Now, 
George, as a man of honor, after this 
you must either declare yourself to Miss 
Emerson, or cease your visits on leaving. 
If the latter, you will have lost my good 
opinion, for the girl loves you — ^Thynne 
is right in that conjecture. I think, 
moreover, she is one who would not give 
affections unsought, and if I thought you 
had trifled with her pure and generous 
heart, rebel though it be, r<nti and wild 
as I am, I would call you myself to ao- 
oount for such ingratitude and heartleas- 
ness ; from your conduct to-night, I hope 
better things." 

" Hartley, you know that I love her 
deeply, madly, but my position has seal- 
ed my lips ; yet, she must and does know 
it, I am sure." 

"Thank God, it is so ; indeed, I hardly 
doubted you. I will now tell you more : 
Agnes is the only woman I have ever 
seen whom I could truly and wholly, 
nay, do truly love, myself; but I saw 
her fixed preference for you, and if her 
happiness were assured, it would be all 
that I now seek." 

'* Oh, generous Hartley, how like your- 
^If, your noble self, you now speak; 
elieve me, you cannot overrate the in- 



tensity of my love for her; but, indeed, 
I never thought you loved Agnes." 

" Well, we'll talk no more of it now/' 
said Hartley, hastily. '* I will pass the 
night on your sofa, so as to be readj 
when Thynne's friend calls, which will 
be early ; and though, in times like these, 
doubless, you have all preparations made 
for any contingency, yet, perhaps you 
had better write a few lines, in explana- 
tion of this affair, to Emerson ; in case 
of anything happening to you, it would 
be well he understood the facts, and your 
feelings, from yourself; and then to sleep, 
for a wakeful night is a sad unsteadier 
of the nerves." 

" I will do so," answered Harrison ; 
"also, I will write briefly to Agnes, and 
intrust them to you." 

At six o'clock, the next morning, Sam 
introduced to Harrison's room a gentle- 
man, whose card, which he handed to 
George, bore the name of Captain Neville 
Wortley. 

" I presume, sir," said the CapUun, 
with stately politeness, ** you can under- 
stand the cause of so early a visit, which, 
under otfier circumstances, I could hard- 
ly sufficiently apologise for. I come oa 
the part of Lord Edward Thynne, to de- 
mand satisfaction for the language you 
used to him last night, and I have come 
thus early lest our proceedings might 
be heard of, or suspected, and conse- 
quently interfered with." 

"I have, sir,* only to refer you," re- 
plied George, "to my friend, Captain 
Hartley, who is asleep on yonder sofa. 
Hartley, Hartley," he cried, and spring- 
ing upon his legs, the gallant Captain 
was at once aware of the state of affairs. 
"Good morning, Captain Wortley, 
good morning," said Hartley, bowing 
ceremoniously; "I am somewhat of a 
laggard, but if you will wait an instant 
I will accompany you where we can ar- 
range preliminari«^s." 

Captain Hartley was back before Har- 



AGNES EMERSON. 



268 



tf 



ruon WM dressad. *' It is all arranged, 
•aid h% "you meet juot beyond the 
15th'8 lines, where there is a retired spot; 
the time, precisely nine ; so yoa must 
start from here, with me, at half past 
•eren, and I will leave word that you are 
going to breakfiMt with me." 

The distanoe to the ground not being 
abore a mile from Hartley's quarteis, 
they proceeded there on foot, and arrived 
about fire minutes before the opposite 
party. 

" There u a deWl in that man's eye, 
Geoixe," said his friend, "don't play 
with your life, and when the word is giv- 
en, lire the instant the word " twice" is 
spoken." 

In a few moments the duelists were 
placed. Captain Wortley gave the word 

— are yon ready? — once twice 

thrioe. 

The reports of the two pistols were 
simultaneous. George bad intentionally 
missed his opponent, but he felt as if a 
hot iron had seared his shoulder. Not a 
word did he utter, nor did he move an 
inch from the spot on which he stood. 

" Is your principal satisfied?" enquir- 
ed Captain Uartley. 

"Not without an apology," replied 
Wortley. 

" Then we may as well load again, for 
there is no chance of that," responded 
Harrison's second. 

Again placed on the ground. Hartley 
whispered, as he put the pistol into 
George's hand, " look hlmJvU in the eye, 
and aim better — I wonder how he missed 
yon — remember, the moment I say twice, 
fire." 

" He did not miss me. Hartley," said 
Harrison, " but not a word ; I am sure 
the wound is very slight I shall not 
try to miss him this time, depend upon 
it." 

Hartley retired, and this time gave the 
words : " Are you ready ? — once 



»f 



Thynne took longer aim, under the im- 
pression that he had before missed by 
too hasty firing, so that Harrison's pistol 
echoed in the waste a moment sooner 
than that of his antagonist, who, flinging 
his weapon to the ground, lifted his 
hands to his face in agony. 

George had fired with the hope of 
wounding Lord Edward's pistol arm, but 
the ball went too high and struck his 
nose, breaking the bones and shattering 
the left jaw, in a manner which would 
forever disfigure him. 

"Spoiled the poppy's beauty, at any 
rate," said Hartley, after asoertuning 
this, and returning to George. " I sup- 
pose as it is no worse we may probably 
hear but little of it" 

The surgeon, who was in attendance, 
having bound up Lord Edward's face in 
the best manner possible, had him re- 
moved to his quarters, which were with- 
in a few hundred yards. 

George aud Hartley then left the 
ground and proceeded to the regimental 
surgeon, where the former's shoulder was 
examined and the wound found to be 
trifling, the ball having passed along the 
top of the shoulder, close to the surface, 
without iiyuring the bone. 

" Lucky it is no worse ; it would have 
been a bad thing, had the bone been 
broken again ; it was badly enough shat- 
tered before," sdd Dr. Maxwell, as he 
applied a soothing salve, and promised 
silence as to the trifling injury received, 
by our hero, in the duel. 

CHAPTXR T. 

Accepted love cansoUe trouble. 

•* She Ilitened wlUi a flliUag blasb, 
WlUi dowDCMt tjm and nedett grtec, 

And w«U th* knew I could Doi ehooM 
Bot gBM apon her te6«.'*-'00LmiM». 

The garden of the Emerson's house 
extended nearly to the banks of the Hud- 
son. A narrow lane alone dividing it 
from a few houses, occupied by small but 
thriving mechanics, shipwrights, coopers, 



384 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



Bhip-chandlers, &c., and which abutted 
upon the river. None could now, after 
a lapse of eighty years, find, in the mul- 
titude of stores, wharves, and ferries, the 
spot of which we write. Under the 
shade, which the many trees afforded, 
might be seen, for two or three hours, on 
the day of the duel, Harrison and Miss 
Emerson. With his arm around her, 
and her hand clasped in his, he listened 
to her earnest words. 

With her frank and honest heartedness 
she had, upon his declaration that day, 
ackn<^ledged that her affections were 
wholly and entirely his. But the joyous- 
ness of the pure spirit had been indeed 
damped, when, after several vain at- 
tempts to commence, Harrison at length 
communicated to her the occurrences of 
the morning. Apart from her grief at 
the dael itself, and her sorrow that Hai^ 
risen should have been engaged in that 
which her right-minded principle so 
strongly condemned, was the feeling that 
she, the cause of the emeuUf would be 
the subject of unusual comment and 
notoriety ; and from this, her sensitive 
and modest mind did indeed painfully 
shrink. 

Gentle and kind was the manner in 
which Agnes chid him for the sin, which 
she, in her purity of soul, considered 
that he had committed in meeting Lord 
Edward. The words of reproof, from 
loving lips, fell softly upon the lover's 
ears and sank deep into his heart, render- 
ing his devotion to her, if possible, of a 
higher and loftier character. 

George's regrets, his promises in future 
to try hard to control himself, the natural 
feelings arising from the knowledge that 
it was an insult to 7ur, which he had re- 
sented, af^er a time somewhat quieted 
her ; and as he soothed her with fond, 
endearing words, and, with the impas- 
sioned, eloquence which love alone can 
command, pleaded his deep and fervent 
devotion, as his extenuation, she could 



not but pardon— could not but love, and 
give way to that great and holy happi- 
ness resulting from reciprocated affection. 

"With you, my Agnes, for a monitress, 
I will indeed strive and conquer what I 
have of impetuosity," said he, "but you 
are apt, also, to be a little carried away 
by your feelings when your indignation 
is aroused, eh, lady love? I think I have 
hit you there." 

"Ah, now George, you refer to last 
night. I was too violent, but I was so 
angry. We all have our faults, dearest, 
and you must, I see check me too^ some- 
times. There now, impetuosity agun — 
you've nearly broken my comb— George, 
George — there, that will do — ^thank good- 
ness, there's William coming." 

William Emerson was slowly advanc- 
ing towards them, followed by a sergeant 
of Harrison's corps, with the Regimental 
Order Book. The face of Agnes' broth- 
er wore a look of deep distress and anxi- 
ety. Nodding kindly to his guest, he 
led his sister to the house, evidently de- 
sirous of privacy. 

The sergeant, meantime, handed his 
officer a note from Hartley, containing 
the cheering intelligence that unless it 
was officially brought to the notice of his 
superiors, the probability was he would 
hear but little of the duel ; that person- 
al feeling appeared to be pretty equally 
divided between Lord Edward Thynne 
and himself. " But the order book will 
inform you of a promotion and removal, 
which, at present, will be trying to you. 
The dispatches arrived from England 
this morning, in the * Seagull,' " was the 
conclusion of the note. 

" Captain Hartley told me he would 
be here shortiy, sir," said the sergeant, 
handing George the order book. 

Harrison opened it and read : — 

"New York, September 27th, 1778. 
Extract from the London Gazette of Au- 
gust 2d, 1778 : * 7th Light Dragoons.— 
Ensign George Beale Harrison, of the 



AGNES EMERSON. 



265 



35th Regt. of foot, to be Lieutenant, vice 
Lieutenant Lord Edward Thynne, pro- 
moted/ Ensign George B. Harrison is, 
therefore, struck off the strength of the 
Regiment from this date." 

Truly had Hartley written. At tliis 
time it was trying, very trying, to be 
placed in the same regiment as Lord Ed- 
ward Thynne, where that officer's popu- 
larity would probably cause him to be 
receired with coldness and dislike. Much 
aa Harrison had desired to get into a 
cmralry corps, he would willingly have 
forfeited this opportunity and his pro- 
wtotion also, to be once more Ensign in 
the 35th foot. 

There was one thing which consoled 
him. Lieut. Colonel Hyslop, command- 
ing the 7th Cavalry, was an old friend of 
his &ther, and had always shown him- 
self warmly interested in George. After 
some reflection, he resolved to seek that 
estimable officer's advice, and proceeded 
to hie room to dress for the visit, when 
Emerson entered and claimed his atten- 
tion. 

**My sister, Harrison, has informed 
me of all that has passed, and I feel 
greatly your conduct on this occasion. I 
am both pleased and pained, but the 
moat pained. I am naturally averse to 
aa attachment with one who is in arms 
againat my own land ; imagine my feel- 
inga, if hereafter I had to draw my 
sword against my sister's husband I Per- 
sonally I am, you know your friend, and 
esteem you as yon merit Agnes is the 
judge of her own affairs ; but, without 
the sacetion of my father, this must pro- 
ceed no further, nor must you extort any 
pledge from her. Your own sense of 
honor will assure yon that in this I only 
do my duty. My father has written — he 
is on hit return from Virginia, and in a 
week will be at our widowed aunt's, near 
Croton River, about thirty-five miles from 
here. I shall send my sister there to 
meet him, for his health is fast failing, 
and he reqnirea a daughter's care. In- 



deed, from the tenor of another letter, I 
fear he will never again perfectly recov- 
er. As there is to be an exchange of 
prisoners, I shall ask from Sir Henry 
Clinton the protection of the escort for 
Agnes. I will not object to your contin- 
uing to see her until she goes, vnth the 
understanding that you exact no promise 
not dependent on her father's will. And 
now, George, I must say something un- 
pleasant, and that pains me also. As 
you leave us to-morrow, I may say, that 
for reasons I can not or will not explain, 
I myself wish to see as little as possible 
of you for the next week or two." 

For the few minutes Emerson remained 
and the conversation continued, Harri- 
son observed that although he wished to 
be cordial, yet there was a restraint in 
his manner ; — but the most vexing thing 
was, that probably all this would curtail 
or limit his interviews with Agnes. 

Hartley having come, accompanied him 
to Colonel Hyslop's quarters, advising 
and cheering him by the way. 

" Emerson has engaged me to dinner 
again," said the captain, " and I'll keep 
him in chat, so as to give you a long time 
with your love. . . That chap is plotting 
something, Harrison — I do hope he will 
not get himself into trouble ; but, enire 
nous, I know that the commander-in-chief 
will not allow him now to quit New York 
— ^the brigade mi^or told me as much to- 
day." 

Colonel Hyslop received George with 
great kindness, and he found that upon 
his friendship he could rely. 

" Report yourself to the adjutant im- 
mediately, and remember to be here at 
eight o'clock, the morning after to-mor- 
row," said the Colonel, as he shook hands 
with him. 

Harrison called at the adjutant's aa 
desired^, and was directed by that officer 
to come the next day, to be offieiaUy pre> 
sen ted to the Colonel. 

Hartley kept his word that night; and 



206 



HUTCHIXGS' CAUFORKIA MAGAZINE. 



saddened though it was by approaobiDg 
aepftratioo, and by Agoes' anxiety about 
her father, still very sweet and long was 
the interview of the lovers, before they 
were interrupted by the voices of Emer- 
son and his guest on the staircase as they 
quitted the dining-room. 

MEHOBT. 

I. 

Oo pluck from off its parent stem 
The smiling rose at morni 

While dew-drops sparkling in the snn 
Bedeck the grassy lawn : 

Its petals — ^trembling while they die- 
So beautiful and fair, 

Will write their sweetest memories 
In perfume on the air I 

11. 
Tear from its bed the pearly shell 

That gems the ocean strand, 
Where mad waves, roaring in their might. 

Break o'er the yielding sand; 
Bear it away to other lands, 

Far from its native shore, 
It still will murmur of its home — 

The wild waves—evermore. 

III. 
Go forth on yonder mountain's hight, 

At nature's vesper hour 
When Darkness leaves his dismal caves, 

And daylight owns his power : 
Mark'st thou those penciled rays of light 

That linger in the west? 
The sun in nature's album wrote, 

Then sank in peace to rest. 

IV. 

Gaze thou upon the dark'ning clouds 

That sweep along the skies. 
While lightnings herald forth the bUst, 

And fearful storms arise : 
See'st thou yon brilliant arch that hangs 

Suspended in the air? 
SwestBow of Promise 1 God's own hand 

Traced the memento there 1 • 

V. 

And thus upon the human heart 
A gentle spell is thrown, 



That whispers e'er of love and joys 
Its youthful days have known ; 

Our darkest hours of grief and wo 
Not all life's pleasure mars, 

For sorrow brings us memory's light, 
As darkness brings the stars ! 

Sweet If emory I the silvery thread 

That binds us to the past, 
Reaches its trembling fibres where 

Our joyons youth was cast ; 
Each friendly word, each look of love 

That blessed those hallowed days, 
Are woven in its mystery 

To cheer our hearts always ! 

VII. 

Kind friend, may Memory's fhture voice 

Be full of peace to thee ; 
Not one false note disturb the charm 

Of its blest harmony 1 
And when the silver chord is loosed 

That binds life's fleeting breath, 
May memory of deeds well done 

Rob all the sting from death I 

THE TURNIP-COUNTER. 

8BC0ND LSGXND. 



Translated from the OermaUf 

BT p. r. JOHNSON. 



From Ume immemorial, mother Earth 
has been the asylum for the subjects of 
blighted love, for which many poor 
wretches among Eve's children, disap- 
pointed in their desires and expectations, 
make the best of their way, some by steel 
or rope, others by lead or poison, and 
many by consumption, and a broken 
heart. Spirits, however, are excepted 
from such ciroumstantialities ; they «&- 
joy the privilege of returning to the up- 
per world at pleasure, by roads forever 
debared to mortal men, after their sulks 
and passions have expended their force. 

Deeply chagrined, the Gnome left the 
upper world, intending never again to 
brave the light of day; but then, his 



THE TURNIP-COUNTER. 



267 



grief became obliterated, by a nine hun- 
dred and ninety years' absence, daring 
which time old sores were apparently 
healed. At length, while suffering from 
emmm and bad humor at home, his favor- 
ite and down, a goblin made up of fun 
and oddity, proposed a pleasure trip to 
the Riesengebirge, to which his lordship 
at once consented. The wink of a min- 
ute sufficed for traveling the long dist- 
ance, and he stood in the centre of the 
Urge grass-plot, once the memorable 
park. 

The sight of objects hu former love 
affair had once flooded with rose colored 
tints, again stirred up old remembrances; 
so that the events in reference to the 
beautiful Emma and himself, seemed as 
of but yesterday. Her picture came 
home to his memory so distinctly that 
her own self again stood beside him ; 
bat she had outwitted and deceived him, 
and that was enough to stir up his old 
grudge against all mankind. 

"Miserable worms of the soil,'' he 
cried, in beholding from his eyrie the 
spires of the churches and convents of 
the sarronnding towns and villages, *' I 
see, yon are at your old tricks in the val- 
ley below. Tou played off on me your 
pranks and arts, but I'll make you suffisr 
for it ; I will haunt and spite you enough 
Co make yoo tremble before the doings 
of the mountain-spirit." 

Hardly had he spoken, when voices 
sottnded in the distance. Three young 
MlowB trotted along, and the boldest of 
then cried lustily, "Turnip-Counter, 
eome on 1 — ^Tumip-Coonter — maiden rob- 
ber !" 

The chronicle of gossip, in the place 
of omitting the love affair of the moun- 
tain goblin, had even enlarged upon it 
by slanderous reports, and made it a fa- 
vorite theme for travelers in general. 
Many ghoat etories, which never had 
happeDed, were freely transmitted from 
month to month, and exoited the fear of 



timid souls; while strong minded per- 
sons, wits and philosophers, who gener- 
ally affect a disbelief in such tales, show- 
ed their insolence in broad daylight by 
calling the spirit nick-names, openly to 
defy him ; but while a resident in the 
depths of his subterranean kingdom, 
these derisive invectives had never come 
to his notice. No wonder, then, that he 
was startled at this laconic " summing 
up " of his own case. 

Like the storm, he swept through the 
sombre forest of firs, prepared to strangle 
the poor wretch who had made him, un- 
wittingly, the target of his pleasantries ; 
when, just in time, it .struck him that 
such a cruel revenge, being noticed 
abroad, would banish travelers from his 
territory, and thus spoil the fun he was 
bent on at the very outset. Therefore 
he allowed the scamp and his compan- 
ions to pass by unmolested, saying to 
himself, " I have not done with you yet." 

At the first by-road, the offender part- 
ed company, and safely reached the town 
of Hirchberg. His invisible enemy fol- 
lowed him to his lodgings, in order to 
find him without trouble, if he wanted, 
and then returned to the mountains, re- 
volving in his mind some suitable plan of 
revenge, when he chanced to meet a rich 
Israelite, wending his way out of Hirch- 
berg. Why not make him the instru- 
ment of his vengenoe, as well as any 
other! Transforming himself into an 
exact counterfeit of the young feUow who 
had mocked him, he frankly proffered his 
companionship to the new comer, coi^ 
versed freely and friendly with him, led 
him off by degrem from the highroad, 
until they arrived at a dense copse-wood, 
when he seised the pedlar by his long 
beard, shook him to his heart's content, 
threw him to the ground, gagged him, 
took his bag, well filled with gold and 
jewels, and went oi^ leaving the poor, 
plundered victim on the spot, little better 
than dead 



268 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



The son of Israel had no sooner reooT- 
ered the use of his senses, than he groan- 
ed and called out for help, fearing he 
might famish in that desolate spot where 
he lay. A gentleman, who looked like a 
well-to-do citizen from some neighboring 
town, stepped up and enquired the reason 
of his lamentation ; but seeing him bruised 
and tied, he loosened the ropes from his 
hands and feet and assisted him, like the 
kind Samaritan, who assisted his fellow- 
man, after his having fallen among rob- 
bers. The stranger presented the illused 
man with a cordial, after tasting of 
which he felt quite refreshed, when he 
was led upon the highway, and taken 
care of by his benefactor — ^like Tobias 
by the angel Raphael— until both arriy- 
ed at Hirchberg before the tavern, where 
he gave his protege a silver coin, to pay 
his night's lodging, and then went on 
his way. 

But how did the Jew open his eyes 
with wonder, when, on entering the tav- 
ern, he found the robber fsitting at the 
table, and acting in as free and easy a 
manner as only becomes a man who has 
done no wrong. He enjoyed himself 
over a pint of cheap wine, cracked his 
jokes and sported with other merry fel- 
lows, while his wallet laid beside him, 
in which Turnip-Counter had secreted 
the bag, taken by main force. The ped- 
dlar, confounded by so much coolness, 
could not, at first, believe his own eyes ; 
be sought a corner, quietly to consider 
the best way by which to recover his 
lost property. It seemed impossible that 
he could be mistaken about the person 
before him ; so he went out, unobserved, 
sought out the judge and lodged his com- 
plaint. A warrant was obtained, con- 
stables were armed with lances and sticks, 
the tavern surrounded, the innocent man 
arrested and brought before the tribunal 
of justice, which was composed of the 
wisest of the city fathers. 

"Who art thou?" the chief magistrate 



(C 



(« 



enquired, as the prisoner was brought 
before him, " and from whence dost thou 
come ?" 

Candid and fearless, he answered : "I 
am an honest tailor, by trade, called 
Benedix, arrived here from Liebenau, 
and am engaged at work in this town." 

" Dost thou deny having assaulted this 
Jew in the forest, maltreated him, bound 
him, and robbed him of his bag 7'' 

'*! never set eyes on this man before, 
therefore I neither assaulted him, bound 
or robbed him of his bag." 

How canst thou prove thy honesty ?" 
By my testimonials, and a good con- 
science." 

** Produce thy testimonials." 

Benedix opened his wallet without 
delay ; he knew it contained nothing but 
his rightful property. In emptying out 
the contents, lo I the sound of silver was 
heard among the traps. The constables 
quickly lent a helping hand in stirring 
up the rags, and took from amongst them 
a heavy bag, which the happy owner soon 
identified as being his. The poor wretch 
seemed struck as by lightning ; fear 
nearly made him- faint ; he turned pale, 
his lips quivered, his knees trembled ; 
he had no more to say. The brow of the 
judge darkened, and a threatening gest- 
ure proclaimed what would follow: 

" How now, villain V the mayor thun- 
dered, " art thou insolent enough to deny 
the robbery any longer ? " 

" Mercy, your Honor I " howled the 
accused, kneeling with uplifted hands. 
'* I call the saints to witness, I am not 
guilty of the robbery ; I don't know how 
the bag came into my wallet ; God only 
knows." 

" Thou art convicted sufficiently," the 
judge went on ; '' the bag tells the story. 
Therefore, give due honor to God and the 
court, and plead guilty ere the torture 
will wring from thee a confession." 

The troubled Benedix still proclaimed 
his innocence ; however, it was so many 



THE TURNIP-COUNTER. 



269 



words wasted, for he was considered a 
wii J rascal, trying to get his neok oat 
of the noose that was waiting for him. 
Haster Hammerling, the terrible ex- 
tractor of truth, was called for, the force 
of whose solid ' argnments' (they haying 
been fabricated of excellent steel) hardly 
failed to oonvince certain persons of the 
necessity of giving due honor to God and 
the court by patting their neok into the 
halter. At Uiis janctare, the strength 
of a good conscience, left its possessor in 
the larch ; for, when the man of tortnre 
tboaicfat the thumb-screw a useful opera- 
tor, Benedix concluded that it would dis- 
able him from swinging the needle in 
facore. Prefering death to maiming, he 
coofened to the crime he knew nothing 
o£ The criminal's trial was thus closed, 
and the judges and aldermen doomed 
him ^io the rope " before they adjourn- 
ed ; which sentence, partly to serve the 
end of justice, and partly to avoid the 
expenses of feeding the prisoner, should 
be pvonptly carried out early the follow- 
ing dny. 

The spectators, who had witnessed the 
proceedings, found the sentence, as pro- 
nouBced by the honorable magistrates, 
just and proper ; yet none was louder in 
has exelamatiuns of satisfaction than the 
good Samaritan of the forest, who took 
his stand in the court room during the 
trial ; he did not cease lauding the sense 
of justice in the gentlemen of Hirohberg, 
and after all, no person could be more 
interested in the present case than this 
philanthropist, for, with invisible hand, 
he bad hidden the pedler's bag in the 
wallet of the tailor, he being the famous 
Tamip-Counter himself. 

Early the following day, he awaited 
the coming of the procession, which in 
tfaoee days always escorted the culprit to 
the seaibld. He had borrowed the plum- 
age of the raven for the occasion, and 
Celt already the raven's appetite grow 
slioag apon him, to pick out the victim's 



eyes. This time, however, he waited in 
vain. 

It so happened, that a pious eoclesias- 
tio, not thinking highly of a conversion 
on the scaffold, and always taking great 
puns in making the most of a malefac- 
tor, if left to his care, found Benedix 
such an awkward and uncouth specimen 
of his class, that he thought it necessary 
to demand an extension of the time allot- 
ted him, for shaping a saint out of such 
rude material. It was a hard matter to 
gain a three days' suspension of his sent- 
ence ; in fact, the pious judges only con- 
sented to it, after his threatening them 
with excommunication, in case of refusal. 
Turnip-Counter hearing this, flew back 
to the mountains, till the time of the ex- 
ecution should have arrived. 

In the interval he roamed, as was his 
wont, over the forest, and beheld a young 
girl resting under a shady tree. Her 
head, supported by a snowy arm, rested 
in melancholy ease upon her bosom ; her 
dress was not made of costly material, 
but yet was cleanly, and of the fashion of 
those worn by the common people. Her 
hand wiped off the tears that were fall- 
ing on her cheek, as deep sighs escaped 
from her lips. The impression of a wo- 
man's tears had formerly left ito mark on 
the gnome; again he felt sympathetic 
compassion in seeing them flow, and 
made an exception to his general rule of 
invoking and spiting those children of 
Eve, who neglected to give his moun- 
tain-home a wide berth. The feeling of 
pity seemed to do him good ; and to min- 
ister comfort to the suffering beauty, 
might be of greater service still. Soon he 
molded himself into a respecteble citi- 
sen, and then, in a winning way, tried to 
gtun the young prl's confidence, as he 
thus began — 

" Why dost thou grieve in loneliness, 
child I in this ontof-the-way place 7 Tell 
me thy troubles, that I may help thee 
if possible." 



I 



270 



HUTCHING8' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



The girly lost in melancholy meditar 
tion^ started at the strange yoice, and 
raised her head« Bat what a look she 
gave from those languishing, dark blue 
eyes. Their dimmed lustre must be 
powerful enough to melt a heart of steel I 
How bright the tears sparkled! The 
lovely. Madonna-like face was none the 
less interesting, because clouded by sor- 
row. She looked up to the benevolent 
man standing in front of her, and open- 
ed her purple lips and said : 

''What can my sorrow be to yours, 
kind sir, hopeless as it is ? I am an un- 
happy being; a murderess, who has kill- 
ed the man of her heart, and now justly 
su£fers in tears and remorse, and will, 
until death shall have broken her heart 

The respectable citizen wondered. 

" Thou a murderess?" be cried; "with 
such a heavenly face, canst thou carry a 
hell in thy bosom ? Impossible I Al- 
though I know men to be capable of all 
kinds of imposition and malice : yet this 
is a riddle to me." 

''Which I may solve," the stricken 
maiden replied, " if you want to know." 

" Speak out, then, fair lady." 

"From early childhood I had a play- 
mate, the son of a neighbor ; he became 
my sweet-heart in later years. So good 
and kind was he, so faithful and noble ; 
loved me so steadfastly and strong, that 
he gained my heart, and I promised him 
eternal fidelity. Behold 1 a viper has 
poisoned the youth's heart, and made 
him forget the instructions of his pious 
mother, and goaded him onward to com- 
mit a crime, which the law makes him 
expiate with his life I " 

The gnome emphatically cried, "Thou!" 

" Tes, sir ! " she repeated, " I am the 
cause of his death ; on my account, he 
committed a highway robbery, in plund- 
ering a rascally Jew, for which the gen- 
tlemen of Hirchberg, after catching him, 
found him guilty ; and — ah, misery 1 will 
hang him to-morrow 1 " 



" For which affair^ yon consider yoor- 
sdif responsible ? " asked Tumip-Coontp 
er, astonished. 

" Tes, sir ! On my head will be his 
blood." 

"How so?" 

" When he set out on his wanderings 
over the mountains, he bid me farewell, 
clung to my neck and said : 

" My love, be faithful I When the 
appletree blossoms for the third time, I 
shall return from ray travels, to claim 
thee as my lawful wife." 

" To this I consented, taking a solemn 
oath to that effect. The apple blossoms 
came for the third time, and Benedix re- 
turned, to remind me of my promise, and 
to lead me to the altar. But I wickedly 
made light of it, as girls often do to 
their swains, by asking him : 'Pray, bow 
would'st thou support thy wife? My 
couch has not room for two ; where, then, 
shall I look for a homestead ? Procure 
some bright dollars first, before thou oall- 
est again.' At these unfeeling remarks, 
he was much troubled, as he repli^, 

" Oh, Clare I she that now craves 
riches to gladden the heart, is not the 
brave girl of former times, who made 
her vow of constancy. Were prospects 
brighter then than now? What means 
such pride and prudery ? Am I to un- 
derstand, Clare, that a rich suitor has 
stolen thy heart from me ? Was it for 
this, false one, that I hoped and waited 
three long years; counted each hour, un- 
til how, that I might claim thee for my 
own? How eagerly I traversed the 
steep mountain paths, led on by hope 
and gladness, alas I only to find myself 
sUghted !" 

He tried to make me alter my mind, 
but 1 did not yield, an inch to his plead- 
ings ; and made answer, " My heart does 
not slight thee, Benedix ! only I can not 
become thy wife as yet ; go hence, pro* 
cure wealUi, and I'll be thine I " 

[Oontlntted.] 



RHTMS OF A PEDAGOGUE. 



271 



RHTME OF A PEDAGOGUE. 



Ib lUm progrcMlT* and poettve time, 

ftll tb« world Is nuanlng Into rhyme, 
■entlmental donees drlTe the quill, 
WUcfa keepe.the Tirtaca of the innder etUl, 
I maj be pnrdoned, though a prosy ped, 
For wrttinf thymes rcTolTtof In my hesd : 
School- tesching Is my prose-poetic theme, 
A thrend-b«re sabtKct for * poet's dream ; 
A Uttle school^room, benches in a row, 
orehins whisper, and ideas grow, 
pome prospecting, patient drudge explores 
the ■Bwrovght ploesrs rldi in mental ores, 
HoplBf of gcolos, some rich * lead * to find — 
mammoth * nagget * of Immortal mind — 
' qoarti clafan *-Hnatrlz of a mighty win, 
Weetod by the pobllc school-room's cmshlng mill. 



, with his spade and pick, and pack, 
taraltare apon his back, 
OB wHh dnsi upon his fhoe, 
no piae&r that Is Jost the plaee— 
Us way to canons of the feather, 
whole kttd§ of Elephants together, 
his baf^oo hnmboff mines forertr, 
the paradise of frsacr rlrer. 



And 

Or 



Togoide 



In 
Or 



For 

Old 



ha who * p r e apects* alter SMBtal signs, 
poorer than eshaosted mines; 
diggings of the embryo man, 
yielding color in proepectlng pan. 
task I in these aorllSBroaa days, 
yooag striplings In their derious ways, 
snap their Ingers with a saocy grace, 
Iheir Ihlhcr's and their teacher's face, 
like heroes through the QhstUng street, 
p«ll the fweiMS of|all the * Johns ' they mnet— 
schools keep pace with progress of the day, 
tbshlnord goTemment has passed away— 
p^lls are the wheels of * patent * school, 
, like aactlon watdics, wlthont mle. 



la As ancient thses, the roa^ old Iron age, 

ras the ranting rage, 
laamtng, with Ha rigid swqr, 
yoath at least one lessen to obey, 
■sasis trainad them Into brawny men, 
As At la wfeM Iha sword, as hold the pao. 



Bald : * Boys are worse to tame of all wild beasts,' 
Bat he is sneered at by the * modem lights,' 
Great C!hlnese lanterns, which illume our nights. 
Who show like gaudy colors of the prison. 
Fantastic Mendings of eaoh modem itm. 

These modem 8olons talk mysterious rant. 

And read by moonllf^t Bmerson and Kant, 

Until each urchin under their control. 

Becomes a Plato with the golden soul. 

Hapless the teacher who lags on behind ; 

This spirituality of an age refined. 

Or dares to tread the hard * old fkshloned ' way,— 

Progression Is the watchword of the day. 

Teachers must rule by ratiocination 

And potent power of pertinent persuasion. 

The march is onward ; 'twill not do to waste 

MnJ^ time in study in this age of haste. 

Inpatient people will not brook delay; 

The scholar Is the product of a day. 

The young Ideas must beybresd to grow. 

Like hot^honse plants iriklch prematurely blow. 

Or seeds subjected to galvanic power. 

Which sprout and grow up In a single hour. 

Precocious genius must grow pale and white. 

Like mushrooms sprung up In a sunmer*s night, 

And joyous spirits of emltlng youth 

Be drowned in dlTlng into wells of trath. 

Sweet, red-cheeked girls, while yet the morning dew 

Of life is glistening in their eyes of blue— 

Torture their throats and tender Toiees wrench 

In mispronouncing unintelligible French, 

Or shock weak nenrcs by thumping wtlh hard knocks 

Tattoos of operas from a mosio box ; 

Or leam to think the height of bliss below 

Is In a ball-room on the tripping toe, 

UntU like Lillipntlan grandamce grey. 

They Imitate old age in chUdhood's play ; 

And flirt and simper, Uttle half-fledged beUes 

Escaped l^m thraldom of the nursery oells. 

Like maiden aunts Instead of artless girls. 

And wanting only artlflcial curls 

To be a small edition of their ways. 

Bound up in Fashion's artlflcial stays. 

In wise old Socrates* and Plato's day, 
Bough was the road and nigged was the way 
They struggled on with mingled hope and feftrs. 
Attained to wisdom throogh the Tale of yean. 



272 



IIUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



Thoie gray old fogies ! little did they dream 

That, in this age of telegraph and steam, 

* ProgresslTes ' would forsalce the tamplke road, 

Where moss-grown mile-stones Learning's temple 

Construct a railroad up the hill of Science, [showed, 

And bid * slow coaches * and their * nags * defiance ; 

Whiaing into the classic halls of learning, 

With startling scream and signal lanterns burning. 

Solon and Socrates were prattling boys. 

Amused with rattles, pleased with intents* toys, 

Who picked up pebbles on the shores of seas 

Which modem * clippers ' navigate with ease, 

Who lived in blindness of the first Great Cause, 

Which spirit rappers clutch with clumsy paws. 

Peace to their shades I in darkness let them rest ; 

Some good * old fashioned * virtue they possessed : 

They taught mankind — ^lived not alone for self, 

Nor bartered wisdom for poor paltry pelf: 

Queer antique virtues, which, if truth l>e told, 

Are curious relics in this land of gold. 

8. 

INSTINCT AND REASON. 



BY LUNA. 



^* And Reason raise o*er Instinct as you can, 

In thi9 *i^ Ood directs, in thai 'tis nxan." 

Pops. 

Instinot is the involuntary power and 
emotions of the life-principle, which re- 
ceives its impulses direct from Deity, and 
is governed by unerring, but mysterious 
laws. 

Man, if endowed alone with instinct, 
could not have been a progressive being, 
although he might have been happier 
and less degraded than many who have 
used the God-like power of reason for 
evil, instead of good. 

Some one has remarked, "that the 
progress of man was in proportion as his 
reason gained the control over his in- 
stincts.'' This is erroneous; for, much 
of the unhappiness of man is caused by 
his reason warring against the innate 
power of instinct. Reason should govern, 
but instinct should not be enslaved. The 
power of moral reasoning, at least, was 
not conferred upon man until he had 



eaten of the forbidden fruit ; then it was 
said " their eyes were opened," and that 
" they had become as gods, knowing 
good and evil." The good they know by 
instinct, but 6vil, by the dearly-bought 
gift of knowledge, which makes men, in- 
deed, like gods, creative and progressive. 
As man fell fiom his negative state of 
happiness by the subtle reasoning of his 
arch adversary, so God ordained that 
man, thereby obtaining the same power, 
should at last triumph over evil, and ul- 
timately attain to a far higher sphere of 
intelligence and happiness than if he had 
retained his first estate ; and, it may be, 
to become the teachers and ministers of 
God throughout the universe, in unfold- 
ing the mysteries of the Divine goodness 
and love, as displayed on this our earth, 
where, perhaps, moral evil is to be for- 
ever exterminated, and that here God 
has set the bounds that it cannot pass, 
and hath said, "hither shalt thou come 
and no farther," But knowledge and 
reason, alone, cannot make mankind 
happy, for, their constantly accelerating 
force maddens the brain, when not check- 
ed by the gentle powers of instinct^ 
which govern the affections, and restores 
the equilibrium between the head and 
heart. From instinct it is, that reason 
gets the first idea, and miniature pattern, 
of all the great inventions of man, and, 
it is thought, there is not one, but its 
prototype mav be found among, and is 
practically worked by, the most inferior 
orders of animated nature. The whole 
duty of man is, to understand and obey 
the laws of his being, in the order and 
manner that they were ordained by the 
Creator, and not to seek out so many in- 
ventions of his own false reasoning, a^ to 
pervert the principle of instinct by which 
the most ignorant are led and guided to 
do right, and to enjoy a degree of happi* 
ness not agreeable to their condition. 
Therefore, while we cultivate the one, let 
us not neglect the other. 



THE PUBUC SCHOOLS OF SAN FRANCISCO. 



273 



THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS OF SAN 
FRANCISCO. 



A good system of pablio schools is 
^santisl to the existenoe of a republican 
fomi of gOTeroment. 

Pablie schools are not peculiar to the 
United States; but the American free 
schools diifer rery materially from those 
of European nations. There, they are 
designed for those who are too poor to 
pay prirate tuition, and the children of 
the rich never darken their doors ; here, 
the wealthiest and most aristocratic make 
rib apology for sending their children to 
the free schools, which public opinion 
proooances the best in discipline and 
tiaining, and most in accordance with 
our republican institutions. 

A system like ours is too great a level- 
•<r to be encouraged by a titled aristoo- 
rrcy. 

The American system of free schools 
was nurtured and sustained by the lib- 
erty-loring, Ood*serying Puritans of Mas- 
sachusetts Bay, and wherever the sons 
of New England have settled, they have 
carried it with them as a household god. 
Across a mighty continent, stretching 
further and further west, the little school 
h'Ki^es have taken up their line of march, 
until, pouring over the slopes of the 
Sierra Nevada, they rest, with the weary 
emigrants, on the golden shores of the 
Pacific ; and, to-day, the schools of San 
Francisco will compare not unfavorably 
with those of Boston — ^tbe great radiating 
piiint of the system on the Atlantic coast 
The school department owns two fine 
buildings — the Union Street and Den- 
man — the other schools are mostly held 
in inferior rented rooms. Those teachers, 
who, like the present Superintendent, and 
ex-Superintendent Mr. Pelton, taught in 
the ** shanties" of early times, would 
cmsider them comparatively comfortable, 
but compared with the palaces of eastern 
citiee, they are inadequate, ill-ventilate 1 



and unsightly. In other respects our 
schools will generally compare pretty 
favorably with eastern ones, though ir- 
regularity and change of pupils, render it 
impossible to advance classes with the 
same degree of accuracy as in more sta- 
tionary communities. Neither is there 
the same strict discipline here as in east- 
ern city schools ; children are under less 
rigid home-government, and consequent- 
ly more difficult to govern at school. And 
the system of running at large, from one 
school to another, over the whole city, is 
destructive to school government. In 
some respects, our schools are undoubt- 
edly in advance of the less progressive 
ones of older States. 

There is less of the forcing system, — 
less of overtaxed brain and precocious 
development. The school room is made 
a pleasanter place. More attention is 
given to physical training. The hours 
of study are fewer, though at present 
too long. A return to the hours of two 
years ago — from 10 A.M. to three o'clock 
P. M. — would be far better, and more 
acceptable to a vast majority of parents. 

Many of the schools are well provided 
with gymnastic apparatus, and in some, 
the classes are regularly drilled in gym- 
nastic feats on the "horisontal bar," 
"parallels," ''ladders," and with "cinbs," 
"dumb-bells" and "rods." Two years 
ago, on a visit to the schools of Boston and 
New York, we found none of the schools 
so provided ; we doubt if any now are. 
The muscular development given to the 
boys, the love of athletic exercises and 
manly sports, will be worth quite as 
much to their future life, as the mental 
culture and book knowledge there im- 
parted. The boy needs strong muscles 
to fight his way in the world ;— coop him 
up in close rooms, leave his muscles 
flabby and sofl, and no amount of book- 
feed will make a manly man of him. 

In some of the schools calisthenic ex- 
ercbes are as regularly given as the daily 



i74 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



recitations; and the girls are deriving 
incalculable benefit from the daily drill. 
Erect forms, well developed chests, grace 
of movement, and ease of carriage are 
the results. 

Dancing is also very generally a part 
of school recreation; what would the 
staid old Puritans have said at the 
thought of it? No harm seems to result, 
however. 

The annual May parties are quite a 
feature of the schools, giving a vast 
amount of enjoyment to smiling faces 
and twinkling feet, and real delight, and 
a merry time, to friends and parents — not 
Puritanical, but social. Singing receives 
a good degree of attention, but should 
receive still more. 

Music is an essential element in the 
education of girls. It is vastly more im- 
portant for a young lady, in the social 
circle, to know how to sing, than to com- 
prehend all the mysteries even of cube 
root, square root, algebra and geometry. 
" A gentle voice is a pleasant thing in 
woman." 

We think the course of study in the 
grammar schools might be slightly mod- 
ified for the better. One half the time 
in all the schools is devoted to arithme- 
tic — the grand hobby of American teach- 
ers, and Yankee ones, in particular — 
while penmanship, drawing, and spelling 
receive comparatively little attention. 
The crack classes are the arUhmetic 
classes, aud the merits of a whole school 
not unfrequently rise or fall with ex- 
ploits of the great first class in arithme- 
tic, on " examination day." Arithmetic 
is well enough in its place, but the sky is 
not a black-board, nor are mountains all 
made of chalk ; children have other fac- 
ulties than that of calculation^ which can 
better be exercised on something else. 
Is it not quite as important that a boy of 
fifteen should vrrite a neat, well-spelled 
letter, as to give the analysis for divid- 
ing one fraction by another, or, "to ex- 



plain the reason of the rule for extractr 
ing cube root"? Might not the girls 
learn the elements of botany, eat a few 
less figures, and admire flowers a little 
more ? Could not the boys, who devote 
two hours a day, for three years, to arith- 
metic, spare a little of that time to learn 
enough of Natural History to tell the 
difference, between a hippopotamus and 
a rhinoceros; or a condor and a gray 
eagle ; or a fish and a quadruped? 

Ought not both boys and girls to learn 
enough of Physiology and Hygienne, to 
understand and obey the common laws 
of health ? Ought not a boy of fifteen, 
leaving a grammar school, to know how 
to keep a commom, plwn, working man's 
account book ? Practical men would say, 
that all thew things were quite as im- 
portant as complicated problems in arith- 
metic, or complex analysis in grammar ? 
A natural system of teaching little 
children would train them to use their 
senses for gaining a knowledge of com- 
mon things around them ; yet most of 
the primary room teaching still consists 
in ** learning how to read and spell." In 
this respecf, our primary schools are a 
quarter of a century behind the Euro- 
pean. It is now an exploded notion that 
education consists in learning how to 
*• read, and spell, and cypher." Educa- 
tion is development — the harmonious de- 
velopment of all the faculties of man's 
nature. The perceptive and expansive 
faculties, and training, as well as the 
reasoning and reflective. 

The physical nature should be cared 
for ; and the soul needs expansion quite 
as much as either mind or body. The 
best teachers are not those who can cram 
the most mathematics into the heads of 
pupils ; or hitch on the longest trains of 
pondrous verbatim recitations to the 
crack teams of "smart" classes, but 
those who can win the love, and touch 
the hearts, and awaken the sympathies, 
and move the souls of unfolding man- 



THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS OF SAN FRANCISCO. 



275 



hood uid womanhood. Feeling, affection, 
and ajmpatbj are better teachers than 
cold, reasoning intellect. 

The truest teaching is something in- 
tangible—an electric fire, which cannot 
be set down in figures and percentages, 
by examining committees. A teacher 
with a great heart is better than one with 
a great head. It will alwajs be so, while 
children have «(m2» as well as brains. 

M«n J of our best female teachers never 
pass " brilliant " examinations ; their 
colamn of " percentage ** is always low, 
but a great woman's heart, womanly 
tact, love, and kindness which are all set 
down as "sero *' in the column of " per- 
centage," if expressed in figures — as if 
sQch a thing were possible — ^would place 
them far up in the scale. A week in the 
school-room is a better test than forty 
colamns of "percentages." 

The truest teaching, that which influ- 
enoee manner, stamps the character, 
electrifies the heart, cannot be reduced to 
a mathemadoal system ; it is superior to 
*' mles and regulations." It needs neith- 
er '* reviews " nor regulations forbidding 
them. It will not be limited to so many 
pages of arithmetic, or grammar, or ge-, 
ograpby. It is the intangible Aurora 
which plays over the sky of the school, 
until one gorgeous glow rests upon the 
firmament of heavenly faces. Bunglers 
may think that a school is a complicated 
mechanism of wheels and pivots — a 
weekly clock, which the teacher has only 
U> '*wind up" and then watch its run- 
ning — ^but in truth, each individual unit 
of humanity is a liring harp, ready to 
bfeathe forth harmonious tones, if touch- 
ed with the light fingers of a master 
hand« Would you have the teacher an 
organ grinder or a harpist? 

On the whole, the present condition of 
our schools is encouraging. The teach- 
ers, as a body, are enthusiastic and pro- 
gressive. The present Superintendent is 
a man in every way fitted for his position. 



Five years a teacher in our schools, 
rough-hewing the elements into symme- 
try, few understand their wants so well 
as he. He has no " crotchets " in teach- 
ing ; no particular hobbies ; no fine spun 
theories of attenuated transcendental in- 
struction, or homoepathic dilutions of 
milk-and-water " reforms." There is 
much work for him to do, and we shall 
be much mistaken if he does not do it, 
and do it well. 

The "nativities" of the pupils illus- 
trate the cosmopolitan character of our 
population. Every State in the Union is 
represented, every nation of Europe but 
four — Spain, Portugal, Greece and Tur- 
key. Asia gives us the '* Mongolians," 
and even Africa sends us a return wave 
of civilization. All the islands of the 
Pacific yield us their mite of humanity, 
and " off Cape itom " and the Atlantic, 
swell the rising generation. What a 
c(&posite race will result from this 
strange mixture of nationalities ? Of th e 
Stales, it will be seen that New York 
leads the list, but Massachusetts is more 
largely represented in proportion to pop- 
ulation. Here are the statistics: 



• Bom In 

Maine 168 

NewEbmpshire, 55 

Vermont 17 

Massachusetts, 726 
Rhode Island... 48 

Connectioat 45 

New York 1468 

New Jersey 102 

Pennsylvania... 230 

Delaware 10 

Maryland^ 72 

Virginia 29 

North Carolina, 5 
South Carolina, 8 

Georgia 14 

Florida. 6 

Alabama. 17 

Missiasippi 29 



Born In 

Louisiana 334 

Texas....* 30 

Wisconsin 19 

Michigan 40 

Ohio 70 

Kentucky 39 

Tennessee 19 

Arkansas 11 

Missouri 84 

Iowa 10 

Illinois 57 

Indiana 10 

Minnesota 6 

Oregon 5 

California 1010 

Utah I 

Diet Columbia, 18 
Wash. Territory, 1 



276 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



Natlonaltity. 

England .....150 

Scotland 35 

Ireland 72 

Canada 53 

Australia 191 

France 67 

Germany 149 

Austria 14 

Prussia 15 

Russia 8 

Switzerland 6 



Holland... 

Italy 

Denmark 
Belgium . 
Sw^en... 



NaiionftUtj. 

Panama 5 

Chili 59 

Peru 3 

Brazil 1 

Meadco 47 

Van D. Land... 5 
New Zealand... 16 
Sandwich Isls... 13 
Madeira Isls.... 1 
Prince Edward, 2 

West Indies 2 

China 29 



1 

7 Africa 

1 

4 voyage to Cal 



Off Cape Horn, ) 

Eiee to Cal. j 

Pacific Ocean... 



1 

7 

1 
1 






South America... 19 Atlantic Ocean, 

By the Annual Report of the City Su- 
perintendent, for the year ending Nov- 
ember 1st, 1859, to the State Superin- 
tendent, the number of pupils attending 
the public schools, is as follows : — 

*& Ok 

& 

Rincon School 912 

Denman 445 

Powell Street 506 

Union Street 937 

Spring Valley 246 

Mission Dolores 152 

Market Street 489 

Hyde Street 364 

Sutter St.Intermediate268 

Sutter St. Primary 512 

Greenwich Street 341 

Wash'ton St, Primary 361 
Mission St. Primary... 257 

Evening School ;. 91 

Chinese School 32 

Colored School 100 

High School 139 



H 

•< 

470 

225 

231 

338 

126 

80 

212 

165 

137 

179 

153 

151 

82 

38 

21 

39 

97 



o 
11 

6 
6 
10 
4 
2 
5 
4 
3 
4 
4 
4 
2 
2 
1 
1 
3 



Total. 



.6152 2704 72 



Th« whole number of pupils registered 
is 6152 : deduct from this total 600 pro- 
moted from one department to another 
and registered twice; also, 600 more 
who have changed schools, there will re- 
main 4952, an approximation to the ex- 
act number. The returns by this census 



indicate 4865 in attendance at the public 
schools. For this large number, the av- 
erage daily attendance is only 2704 — ^be- 
ing 55 per cent, of the whole number. 
This does not indicate the irregular at- 
tendance of children, but only shows the 
floating character of the population. 
The number belonging to school at any 
one time is about two-thirds of the whole 
number registered for the year, which 
would give 66 per cent, for regularity of 
attendance. 

In 1854, the number of pupils was 
1803; in 1855, 2081; in 1857, 2823; in 
1858, 5283, all sublect to the same de- 
ductions as the returns for 1859. 

To teach these schools, seventy-two 
teachers are employed — fifteen gentle- 
men and fifty-seven ladies ; also a teacher 
of foreign languages in the High School, 
and a general teacher of singing. 

Their salaries are as follows : — 
Principal of High School $250 per month. 
Teacher of Natural Sciences $240 per mo. 

Assistant, lady $125 per month. 

Principals of Grammar, $200 per month; 
Female Prin. Prim. & Inter. $105 per mo. 
Assist-ants .$85 per month. 

But the teachers are seldom employed 
ten months, and the average annual sal- 
aries would be about ten per cent, dis 
count on the above rates. 

ONLY ONE PAGE FROM THE 
GREAT .LIFE-BOOK OF CALIFORNU. 



BT VARY MORRIS KIRKX. 

•' What li the tale that I would teU? oot one 
Of strange adTentare, but a common tale 
or woman's wretchedness *, one to be read 
Dally, In many a young and blighted beftrt." 

Mni Lasikhi. 

" Good by I good by, my darling ; my 
own precious wife I Oh t how can I 
leave yout Tet I must not linger. 
Good by t good by I" 

And the strong man wept like a child, 
as he imprinted a last kiss upon the lips 
of his wife, to whom he had been wedded 



PAGE FROM THE GREAT LIFE-BOOR OF CALIFORNIA. 



277 



bol 0D6 short week. The parting was! 
indeed a sad one; yet, ihat year — the 
meniorable 49 — ^witoeesed many sueh, as 
man bade farewell to home, and turned 
their steps California-ward in hope of 
gaining wealth for the dear ones left be- 
hind. The young wife stood pale and 
notionlees ; not a nerve quivered, not a 
tear fell ; but when she knew her hus- 
band had really gone, she soqght her 
own nwm, and falling on her knees, she 
prayed in all the agony of her soul for 
eomfori from above, for guidance and pro- 
tection to the dear one who had just 
gone» for a speedy return and a happy 
naeting with the only friend and pro- 
leetor ahe could claim in the whole 
world* 

Emily Wilde's life had been a singu- 
larly isolated one. Her father was a 
wealthy, fashionable, dissipated man, 
fimn whom she had never received a 
aingle word of affection, or fatherly re- 
gard. Colonel Wilde seemed to think 
hia whole duty performed toward his 
only, motherless child, when he had be- 
•towed upon her a certain yearly sum of 
money to use as she chose, or paid the 
extravagant demands of fashionable 
teaehers, employed for the purpbse of 
genteelly educating "Col. Wilde's daugh- 
ter." And so she grew up in her father's 
■tately home — cold, proud, exclusive; 
vnloring, and unloved. Her heart had 
new been drawn out in sjpnpathy or 
love toward any human being. True she 
had formed acquaintances among those 
of her own particular circle, but for none 
had she ever felt true friendship, or 
warm affection. 

SmQy Wilde was not naturally selfish, 
bol she needed the hand of gentleness 
and love to lead her into a higher life; to 
reveal to her the depth of her own nature; 
boi thie ahe had never known. 

One evening soon after she had passed 
eighteenth birth-day, her father sum- 
her to his library, and in a werj 



business-like manner told her that as she 
was now quite old enough to marry, he 
had selected a husband for her, and that 
he wished her to commence preparations 
immediately for the marriage. 

Poor Emily was aghast at this unex- 
pected announcement, but when Mr. Au- 
gustus Brookes was mentioned as the 
man to whom her hand had been prom- 
ised, she was overwhelmed with horror 
and dismay, for Mr. James Augustus 
Brookes was the man, above all others, 
whom she despised and detested. She 
had often been obliged to entert^n him 
as her father's guest and friend, but she 
always shrank from the boldness and 
freedom of his manners toward her. He 
was coarse and ungentlemanly in his de- 
portment, more than twice her own age, 
and in fact there was nothing about him 
to recommend him to a refined, high- 
minded girl like Emily Wilde. Nothing 
save money — and of that he possessed an 
almost fabulous amount — ^would have ad- 
mitted him to the circle in which he 
moved — ^the money-worshipping, the aris- 
tocratic " upper circle " of New York — 
that charmed circle, glistening with gold 
and with diamonds, dassling the eye 
with their brilliancy, so that the charac- 
ter, the false heart beneath is all con- 
cealed. 

A feeling of burning indignation filled 
Emily Wilde's heart, when she could real- 
ise how she had been bartered away by the 
man, who in name, was her father. She 
knew how worse than useless entreaties 
or tears would prove with him ; for, to 
change Col. Wilde's mind when once it 
was determined upon an object, was a 
thing unheard of. With as much calm- 
ness as she could assume, Emily asked 
her father for one week to consider upon 
the unexpected proposal. 

"One week to consider? What con- 
sideration does it need, pray?" answered 
Col. Wilde, bis violent temper rising at 
the bare possibility of opposition. " Of 



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IIUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



course, you will marry Mr. Brookes 1 If 
you once dare to speak of refusal, you 
are no daughter of mine I Now go. My 
future son-in-law will be here to-morrow 
evening, to receive your consent." 

Emily Wilde went to her room in a 
state of mind little short of distraction. 
She Was a spirited girl, and inherited 
withal, something of her father's violent 
temper ; so she did not, as a weaker wo- 
man might have done, sit down in tears 
and despair, then meekly consent to sacri- 
fice herself, but the most intense deter- 
mination not to submit to such a hateful 
marriage, let thp consequences be what 
they might, filled her whole being. 

After the first violence of her anger 
had passed, she sat down to think calmly 
upon the course to pursue; and the re- 
sult of her thinking was, that before the 
clock told the hour of midnight, her 
clothing, jewelry, and valuables belong- 
ing to herself, were ready packed for a 
journey. After this was accomplished, 
she went quietly to bed, and slept till 
morning. 

At the usual hour, Emily Wilde took 
her place at the breakfast table opposite 
her father. Not a word was spoken by 
either, of the previous night's scene, but 
there was a dangerous fire in the young 
girl's eyes, which bespoke a boldness and 
strength of will, able to battle with the 
dark spirit of the man opposite her. 

Contrary to his custom. Col. Wilde left 
home that morning. Urgent business 
called him a short distance into the 
country, and he would not return till late 
in the afternoon, which left Emily free to 
oarryvout her plans unmolested. 

As soon as her father was out of sight, 
she ordered a servant to call a hack, and 
when it arrived, she came quietly down 
stairs, dressed in a plain traveling suit, 
bade the man take the trunks to the car- 
riage, gave a note into the hands of her 
maid for Col. Wilde, when he should re- 
turn ; and amid the wondering gazes of 



the domestics, entered the hack, and was 
driven off, they knew not whither. 

About a month after Emily Wilde left 
home, she obtained, through the assist- 
ance of some wealthy aequaintances to 
whom she had applied, a situation as 
teacher of music and French in a yonng 
ladies' seminary, in one of the most re- 
mote eastern towns. 

She found the duties of her situation 
very irksome, but when she thought of 
the slavery from which she had escaped, 
she was content. Soon there davmed for 
Emily Wilde a new joy, which made 
every trial and vexation sink into noth- 
ingness. She met Walter Rockwell, and 
to him her heart bowed, as to its highest 
lord; — ^she lived but for him, and in the 
strength and intensity of her love, her 
character was developed into new beanty, 
and life assumed a glory and loveliness 
she never knew before. For his sake she 
endeavored to overcome all that was evil 
in her nature, and well did she succeed ; 
for, to a woman like Emily Wilde, love 
is a powerful teacher, overpowering, and 
making subservient to it every other 
sentiment. 

Happiness had at length come to her, 
and her heart sent up a song of thanks- 
giving all the day long, that God had 
made her life so gloriously beautiful. 

Walter Rockwell, though not wealthy, 
was a merchant, doing a fair busineea, 
but he w^ ambitious to place Emily 
Wilde, as his wife, in the same high po- 
sition in regard to wealth, she had known 
in her father's house, for Col. Wilde had, 
true to his word, discarded his daughter 
forever. 

After much persuasion, both with his 
own heart, and Emily, Walter Rockwell 
decided to start immediately after his 
marriage, for California, hoping to re- 
turn in a few months with sufficient 
wealth to enable him to pass the remain- 
der of his days with the only one he felt 
that he ever could love, in luxury and ease. 



PAGE FROM THE GREAT LIFE-BOOK OF CALIFORNIA. 



279 



The partiiig was bitter for the yonng 
hasband and wife, bot while the hasband 
was all tears, and protestations of eternal 
ftdelitj, the wife was calm, and tearless 
in her sorrow. One might haye thought 
her eold and indifferent, had she been 
jadged by mere outward show of grief, 
bot one glance at the heart, would have 
UM the depth and strength of her love. 

Waher Rockwell for a time, succeeded 
new enterprise beyond his highest 



m 

hopes; but after awhile, his good for- 
tame seemed to desert him, and at the 
end of two years he wrote his wife that 
he was pecuniarily just where he was 
when he first landed in San Francisco, 
and be must not think of returning home 
for many months. 

Pbor Emily 1 this was a sad disap- 
pointment, but she would not indulge in 
Tain r^rets, or idle tears ; but, with her 
tme. woman's heart, resolved to resume 
her old occupation of teaching, that she 
might hare no necessity to use the re- 
mittances her husband sent her from 
time to time ; and she hoped too, by in- 
doslry and economy, to add considerable 
to the sum, so that at the end of the year 
she oould offer it to Walter in proof of 
her aetiTO sympathy and love. 

She accordingly opened a small private 
•ehool, obtained a few music scholars for 
erenings, and fortune favored her in an 
oaexpected manner. The organist em- 
ployed in one of the largest churches in 
the town, became, through ill health, un- 
fitted for his duties, and as Mrs. Rock- 
well was known to be a very superior 
performer, the vacancy was offered to 
her, which she joyfully accepted. 

Months passed by, and still Mrs. Rock- 
well worked on, though her health began 
to ha under the unwonted exertion. 
She would not yield to discouragement, 
for she was working for an object dearer 
than life. While he was toiling for her 
sake, in a far^ff land, depriving himself 
of all the dear delights of home, she too. 



would work, and when the time come, 
she would lay her offering, small as it 
was, before him, though she knew he 
would chide her for doing as she had. 

Sometimes Mrs. Rockwell thought her 
husband's letters rather short and cold, 
but her loving heart readily offered the 
plea of weariness, discouragement, or 
the press of business. At such times, 
how the faithful wife longed to be near 
her husband, to speak words of comfort 
and encouragement I 

One evening she was sitting sad and lone- 
ly in her room, holding the last Califor- 
nia letter in her hand. Walter had writ- 
ten more than usually desponding, and 
even her own hopeful spirit seemed faint- 
ing. She had been obliged to give up 
her school, her health was failing so rap- 
idly, and now, wh^ she needed a hus- 
band's care more than ever before, thous- 
ands of miles of sea and land separated 
them. Here a thought presented itself. 
Why should she not go to him 7 Strange 
she had not thought of it before I She 
had heard of several wives who had re- 
joined their husbands in California, and 
doubtless her health would be benefitted 
by a change of climate. Yes, she would 
go! 

Wtth Emily Rockwell, to decide, was 
to act ; and when the next steamer sailed 
from New York, she was on board, look- 
ing joyfully forward to a happy meeting 
with her beloved husband. The fresh 
sea air brought a bright bloom to her 
cheek, and a lightness to her step, while 
the joyousness of her heart shone in her 
sparkling eye, and in dimpled smiles 
around her lips. 

'* Oh 1 bow happy Walker will be to 
see me I" was her constant thought; 
*' and then my little offering may come in 
just the right time, he has been so un- 
fortunate in business. At any rate, it 
will show what I wouid have done." 

It was evening when the steamer ar- 
rived in San Francisco — one of those 



280 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



soft, balmy moon-light evenings which 
makes one forget that aught save purity 
and loveliness dwells on earth. 

Mrs. Rockwell stood upon the deck of 
the steamer, and gazed with rapture up- 
on the great city before her, with its 
myriad lights glittering from hill-side 
and valley ; at the shining waters of the 
beautiful bay over which they had just 
passed ; then looked up into the cloud- 
less expanse above, where the brilliant 
stars were looking down upon the earth, 
and the moon was sailing in splendor 
surpassing anything she had ever seen 
before ; and above all, realized that she 
was near her husband, her loved Walter ; 
she felt that she was nearer heaven than 
she had supposed it possible for mortal 
to be on earth. Ah I life has but few 
such moments of rapture I Yet they 
give us fleeting gleams from that world 
where not one sorrow, not one pain, can 
ever come. And do we not go forth 
encouraged and strengthened to battle 
bravely with life yet a little longer? 
Yes, if the blight fall not too suddenly. 

It was yet early, and Mrs. Rockwell 
determined to take a carriage and go out 
at once to her husband's residence. She 
knew where to direct the driver, as her 
husband had often spoken in his letters 
of his lodgings in a certain part of the 
city; " his lonely home — a poor home, to 
be sure, but the best he could afford, and 
good enough for him, so long as he had 
the assurance that she was comfortable," 
(so he had always written), and it was 
with some surprise that Mrs. Rockwell 
saw the driver stop before an elegant 
cottage, around which were all the ap- 
pliances of comfort and wealth. In the 
gardent in front, a fountain was throw- 
ing a pearly shower into a marble basin, 
white statuettes gleamed amid the dark 
foliage, the air was heavy with the per- 
fume of flowers, while a softened light 
came stealing through the half-opened 
shutters and delicate lace curtains of the 
parlor windows. 



" Surely, driver, you must be mistaken 
in the place," said Mrs. Rockwell, as she 
stepped upon the pavement; "wait a 
moment, until I enquire at the door." 
A man servant answered the bell, and in 
answer to the enquiry if Mr. Walter 
Rockwell boarded there? "Oh, yes, 
ma'am, Mr. Rockwell lives here, this is 
his house," and stood, as if hesitating 
whether to ask the lady in. 

Mrs. Rockwell's heart beat faster. She 
was indeed standing upon the threshold 
of her husband's home I that haven of 
rest, of joy, of love I Her words came 
fast and indistinct, as she gave her name 
and enquired of the servant if Mr. Rook- 
well was at home. 

" No, ma'am, he is not in, would Miss 
Rockwell walk in ? The gentleman had 
not said he was expecting a sister," said 
the officious servant, mistaking the Mrs. 
for Mi88 Rockwell. Mrs. Rockwell was 
too disappointed to notice the servant's 
remark, and requested him to show her 
a room where she might make some little 
change in her toilet. 

" Well," she thought, as the servant 
led her up the thickly carpeted stairway, 
" it is best that I should have a little 
time to prepare myself for the meeUng. 
Now that I am really here, I feel strang- 
ly nervous and excited." 

If Mrs. Rockwell felt surprised at the 
external appearance of her husband's 
home, her astonishment was increased at 
the internal adornments. A strange 
feeling of uncertainty took possession of 
her, as she sat down for a moment in the 
elegant chamber assigned her. As yet, 
she ted seen nothing to remind her of 
her husband — could not there be two 
persons of the same name? Yet the 
street and number were the same. Yes, 
this must be lus home, yet how different 
from what he had represented 1 

Here again the true woman's heart 
prompted, " perhaps Walter has intended 
to send for me, and surprise me with the 
beautiful home he has provided." Then 



PAGE FROM THE GREAT LIFE-BOOK OF CALIFORNIA. 



281 



•ha remembered how positively he had 
written about hie unfortunate business 
•peculations, and that idea was discarded. 

Ten o'clock, said her watch; surely, 
he must come soon. 

A door leading into a front chamber, 
•tood partly open, and she took the lamp 
and passed into the room; perhaps in 
this there might be something to explain 
the mystery. A mossy Tclvet carpet into 
which her feet sank with noiseless tread, 
eorered the floor, curtains of the richest 
roee-oolored satin, draped the windows, 
•n elegant bed, with hangings of rose 
■•till, and snowy, delicately laced pil- 
lows, stood in one corner of the room, a 
laxnrious sofa occupied a recess beside 
the mantel, which was loaded with costly 
ornaments ; rich paintings were suspend- 
ed from the walls; flowers from rare 
Taees filled the air with a delicious per 
foiae; all was luxury and beauty, yet 
Bolhing of her husband 1 

Beneath the mirror stood a little table 
oorered with books. Mrs. Rockwell me- 
ehaaieally opened one. On the fly-leaf 
waa written "Emily Wilde, to Walter 
Rockwell." It was a book she had given 
him before their marriage. Now she 
knew there was no mistake — she was in 
har husband's home I 

A little blue velvet miniature case lay 
beside the book. Ah I the old loving 
•mile comes back to the wife's troubled 
facet Her husband I Her Walter 1 Sud- 
denly she started and turned pale. Lying 
there, just before the sofa, was a tiny 
satin slipper — a woman's slipper, deli- 
cate, Cinderella-like in its proportions ; 
aad not far from it was the mate — ^beau- 
tiful, fairy-like slippers I A sharp, quick 
pain went through the heart of the wife ; 
hsr breath came thick and gaspingly, as 
her eye glanced quickly about the room. 

Upon the marble-top bureau rested a 
pair of gloves, fie oompanions of the tiny 
slippera on the floor. Then there was a 
jawei-oase, aad all the pan^^hemalia of 



a lady's toilet. Adjoining the chamber 
was a wardrobe, into which the wife 
passed with trembling footsteps. Rich 
dresses were there; dresses of silk, of 
satin, and cloud-like lace ; delicate little 
dresses, made for a dainty little figure. 

Mrs. Rockwell noted it all, closed the 
door, and taking the lamp, returned 
again to her own room. What a look 
out of her eyes! What a marble face I 
it seemed scarcely human, but she was 
calm — calm as the stream when it lies 
cold and frozen in the embrace of winter, 

A light, rippling laugh came floating 
up from the garden below, mingled vrith 
the deeper tones of a manly voice. 

The figure of the marble listener above 
seemed to grow more rigid, as the light, 
rippling, girlish laughter came to her 
ear. Her hands were clenched until the 
nails sank deep into the tender flesh, and 
around the eyes were great circles of pur 
pie; yet she stood and listened to the 
tones of the manly voice mingling with 
the silvery chime— -listened as they came 
up stairs together into thcU room. Her 
lamp had gone out ; yet there she stood, 
in the darkness, with her gleaming eyes 
riveted upon the scene she could behold 
through the half-open door. 

Yes, there he was, handsome, manly- 
looking as ever. For an instant the wife 
forgot all, everything, save that her hus- 
band was before her, and her first im- 
pulse was to throw herself into his arms. 
But the next instant came the reality. 

She was beautiful, truly, the young 
creature who came with Walter Rock- 
well — a slight, petite figure, full of grace ; 
brilliant eyes and features of faultless 
regularity. Throwing aside the fleecy 
opera hood which partially ooncealed her 
luxuriant hair, the beautiful girl threw 
herself with indolent grace upon the 
8ofa» while her companion gaaed with 
rapture upon her. 

"Oh, Isa» my Isa, how radiantly lovely 
you are to-night T' exolatmed Walter 



282 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



Rockwell; "one might well forego the 
joys of a future heaven for an earthly 
heaven with you." 

" Am I then bo much to you, Walter/' 
replied the girl, " that yon can willingly 
give up home, wife, everything, for my 
sake ? " 

** Isa, Isal do not talk to me of wife, 
or home ; you, and you alone, are wife, 
home, happiness 1 " 

And thus they sat and talked, while 
the eyes of the white figure in the other 
room glared with a burning, wild light 
upon them. 

" Oh, Walter I what dreadful noise is 

that?" suddenly exclaimed Isa, as a sort 
of gasping, gurgling sound came from the 
back room. 

Walter Rockwell heard it too, and in a 
moment more, stood incapable of motion 
before that ghastly face and those wild 
eyea. 

Poor Emily Wilde Rockwell 1 Nature 
was a kind mother I Reason had fled I 

The law — the law of man — has freed 
Walter Rockwell from his crazy wife. 
He is married to the companion of his 
guilt ; two beautiful children — one, the 
child of shame— call her mother. 



Wealth has poured in upon them, and 
their home is an abode of luxury and 
splendor ; but there is a form forever at 
his side, which will never, never leave 
him. And may a merciful Ood forgive 
him before he shall stand before the 
great White Throne, to give account for 
his actions here I 

In that mournful house at Stockton, 
where so many histories, unwritten, save 
by the Recording Angel on high, dwells 
a feeble, wasted maniac I a poor, miser- 
able wreck of womanhood, beauty, and 
intellect 1 Day after day she wanders 
listlessly about, moaning to herself, gat- 
ing away out into vacancy. Sometimes 
she has terrible fits of raving; she curses 
God, man, beauty, everything, and her 
words are more terrible than imagination 
can conceive; she seems more like a 
vindictive, accusing spirit, risen from the 
dead, than anything human. 

The physicians say she cannot live 
long. The feeble spark of life is almost 
extinguished, and soon the grave will 
cover another murdered one — aye, mur- 
dered I and will she not be avenged in 
that day when all things shall oome to 
judgment ? 



»•* 



^nt $othl C^air. 



THERE are some natures that are ) 
ever willing to accept and enjoy, 
but never feel under the least obli- 
gation to return the compliment, by con- 
tributing, in any possible way, to the pleas- 
ure and enjoyment of others. Now, wheth- 
er this may arise from thoughtlessness or 
selfishness (it is generally from one or the 
other of these causes) the effect is the 
same. If from the former, an attempt 
should be promptly, and even studiously 
made, to correct it ; otherwise, it may, 
sooner or later, be attributed to the latter ; 
and there are but few, however lost to all 



those finer and more ennobling feelings of 
our common brotherhood, that would like 
to be classed among the possessors of one 
of the lowest traits of human character — 
namely : that of selfishness. 

In the social circle, how often do we find 
persons who either exclusively monopolize 
the conversation, or those who say nothing 
at all ? An extreme, in either case, that is 
alike uncommendable ; for, as we are to a 
g^eat extent mutually dependent upon each 
other for our social happiness, it is not an 
unworthy consideration on our part, how 
we can the best cultivate the agreeable, 



OUR SOCIAL CHAIR. 



283 



and of acceptably contributing as well as 
of agreeably receiving favors. 

An esteemed friend who occasionally 
occupies a seat in oar little social circle, 
mad who well understands the principle of 
mtmm et <iMm, has applied it to writing as 
well as to conversation, and handed us the 
following capital story : — 

There is, not a thousand miles from the 
Bay City, a very worthy pedagogue, who 
ooce on a time * read law ' in a certain 
aristocratic village of the Green Mountain 
State, himself being a worthy scion of the 
most aristocratic of the aristocracy of the 

place. B , as we will designate him, 

was one of thoso unfortunate sinners who, 
having nothing in his rather extensive 
cranium, save a large amount of empti- 
ntMBf and being easily imposed upon — as 
all good-natured people usually are— was 
the butt and laughing stock of his associ- 
ates, who lost no opportunity of making 
him the victim of their practical jokes. 

His pater famila^ wishing to make as 
mach of him as possible, concluded to let 
bim study that profession in which rogues 
and fools have, to say the least, an equal 
chance with honest men, and, placing him 
in a law otBce, he was directed to acquaint 
himself with the mysteries of Blackstone. 
Bore he assigned to himself a daily task of 
raading twelve pages, having completed 
which, he carefully marked the place with 
a short string, or 'marker,' between the 
leaves. For a few weeks he progressed 
finely, completing his task in a wonderfully 
short time, and passing the remainder of 
the day in loitering about the village, 
where he had already begun to assume all 
the swagger and consequential airs of a 
newly-sprouted limb of the law. 

One day, Joe L , a fellow-student, 

conceived the brilliant idea of placing B — 's 
book-mark hack twelve pages — a thought 
he instantly put in execution. Soon after, 
B came in, took his accustomed seat, 
Ttmd his allotted task, and went off on his 
Qsaal round. The next day Joe put the 
marker back again ; B — 's task was gone 
OTeras before. The next day, and the next. 



it was the same. On the fifth day, Joe, 
thinking the game could not last much 
longer, had collected at the office some 
dozen or more of the *■ boys,' young and 
old, whom he had posted in regard to the 
fun going on, when the door was opened 

and B , innocent and unsuspecting as 

a lamb, came in, an^, alter the usual salu- 
tations, took down his Blackstone and 
commenced reading. 

" B , how do you like Blackstone ? " 

enquired Esquire S , a somewhat noted 
lawyer, and always up to fun. "Why," 

replied B , in his usual drawl and 

twang, " / — Wee — it — very — well—<u — a — 
whoUy — hut — dofCt — you — think — there — «*- 
a — ^oo<(— c2ea^— o/— B-A-M-B-N-i-s-s — about 
U ! ". 

The yell that went up from that office 
would be hard to describe ; suffice it to say, 

B gave up the study of the law, and 

took to school-teaching; thus verifying 
the adage that it is less difficult to be a 
guide-post than a post-chaise : one points 
out the way — the other * goes it ! ' M. 

We hope the Social Chair will hear often 
from M., as we know he will be always 
welcome with such good jokes as the 
above. 

Dear Social Chair : — 

After the many pressing claims upon 
your notice and consideration — although 
modesty is said to form no large share of 
my composition, yet I do feel a delicacy in 
presenting my " case " to your kind con* 
sideration. 

There are few chairs in the world more 
misrepresented and abused than I am. 
From the commonest dolt in the commun- 
ity to the penny-a-liner, I am made the 
butt of jest, witticism, and flings at knavish 
cunning; and so far is this morbid taste 
cultivated, that demagogues of all creeds 
and shades seek the popular ear by showing 
me up ; and if I demand a " retraxit" they 
"demur" to my "complaint," or should 
they " answer" it is the " plea" of " dam- 
num ab$que ir^furia** and compel me to 
" join issue." 



284 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



Nothwithstanding all this Mr. Social 
Chair, whenever there's a flare-ap in com- 
munity (and that's pretty often), the very 
first act is to seek the advice, and counsel 
services of this chair. 

The blushing maiden, after having been 
woed a,nd t£;on, and waited impatiently a rea- 
sonable length of time for her plighted lover 
to consummate his vows, often seeks me 
to bring her " action of trespass in the case 
upon promises ;" not that any ' trespass' 
has been committed, but for a failure 
and refusal on his part to divest her of her 
" Bole"-character, and place her under ^ co- 
verture'. The man of large estate, desirous 
to know whether he can read his titles clear 
to mansions here below, approaches me with 
a simple fee,to know if he owns a 'fee simple.' 
The merchant, trader, and man of business 
enterprise after having buflfetted the storms 
of adversity and disappointment met with 
nothing but frowns from the fickle goddess ; 
turns to me to seek that relief and protec- 
tion which it is the peculiar office of this 
chair to give. The man, overcome in an 
evil hour by temptation, and arraigned at 
the bar of justice and called upon to speak 
in his defence, procures me to say that he 
is not guilty, and is overjoyed if by my su- 
perior learning and skill, twelve men are in- 
duced to concur. 

And for services of this character this 
chair often receives unjust censure and 
blame. Why, Dear Social Chairs (don't 
be alarmed, I am not angry, only feel my 
blood warming a little with earnestness,) 
will you believe it? I have been abused 
because I opposed administering capital 
punishment " in a summary way" as some 
of the more mealy mouthed express it ; but 
which, in plain English, means hanging 
men "without Judge or jury." Of course, 
I would oppose such action. I am a Chair 
of very ancient and honorable origin. The 
" landmarks of civilization," centuries ago, 
were carved into my sides, and have ever 
been kept there, burnished and bright as 
the nation's coat of arms ; and these are 
sought after in all cases of emergency, 
doubt and importance. In this Chair may 



be found the formtf ruUa^ and preeedenU of 
ancient as well as modern times — a *^ com- 
plaint" for all, and a " plea" for all, and 
never an objection to a " fee " from any 
one. 

And after all is said of this Chair, it has 
offices to perform and duties to discharge, 
which must always remain unknown to 
the world. It has a storehouse for all the 
confidence, truths, and secrets, of all its 
brothers and sisters ; and in its sympathiz- 
ing ear are poured tales of sorrow, misery, 
and wretchedness, sufficient to melt to 
tenderness and pity, hearts not en- 
cased in flint or steel. Secrets which 
weigh down the mind, like an incubus, are 
told without trepidation or reserve to thia 
Chair. To my dissatisfied "brother and 
sister Chairs," I have a word to say. If 
you desire a life of quiet — if you dread to 
live in a state of perpetual warfare, fight- 
ing other men's battles for a consideration, 
one, too, that often /ai2« — ^if you desire to 
be your own conscience-keepers, and the 
keepers of your own secrets only — if you 
would not take upon you the responsibility 
of the conduct oftentimes involving the 
fortune and reputation of others, be con- 
tent to remain what you are. Be anything 
else — rather than a 

Lawtkr's Chaib, 

In distant imitation of most of the great 
literary luminaries at the East, we have 
concluded with deliberation and afore- 
thought yet not with " malice prepense" 
as runneth criminal accusation, to steal, 
take, and appropriate the following pieces 
from an exchange : — 

A Western cattle-dealer, who rarely 
had the privilege of sitting down to meat 
with a family, and had never been in a 
minister's house in his life, was not long 
ago benighted and lost in his ride across 
the prairies, and compelled to ask for lodg- 
ings at the first house he could find. Hap- 
ily for him, it proved to be a dwelling of a 
good man, a parson, who gave him a cor- 
dial welcome, and, what was specially 
agreeable, told him supper would soon be 
ready. The traveler's appetite was raven- 
ous, and the moment he was asked to sit 
by he complied ; and without waiting for a 



OUR SOCIAL CHAIR. 



285 



■econd invitation, be laid hold of what he 
eoold reach. 

'* Stop! stop!" said the good old man of 
the house, '* we are in the habit of saying 
■omething here before we eat." 

This hint to wait till a blessing was 
asked the rough customer did not under- 
stand, but with his mouth full he muttered, 

*' Go ahead ; saj what you like ; you ca'nt 
turn my stomach now I" 

GoTvasoR Ford, of Illinois, tells a very 
rich anecdote of one of the early judges of 
that state, but unhappily the governor does 
not pat upon record the name of the sensi- 
tive and considerate magistrate. . 

At the court over which this judge pre- 
sided, a man by the name of Green was 
convicted of murder, and the judge was 
obliged to pass sentence of death upon the 
cnlprit. Galling on the prisoner to rise, 
the judge said to him, <* Mr. Green, the 
jnry says you are guilty of murder, and the 
law says yon are to be hung. I want you, 
and all yoor friends down on Indian Creek, 
to know that it is not I who condemned 
yon ; it is the jury and the law. Mr. Green, 
nl what time, sir, would you like to be hung? 
the law allows yon time for preparation.' 

The prisoner replied, ** May it please your 
honor, I am ready at any time : those who 
kill the body have no power to kill the 
sonU My preparation is made, and you 
can fix the time to suit yourself; it is all 
the same to me, sir." 

'* Mr. Green," returned the judge, << it is 
a very serious matter to be hung ; it can't 
happen to a man but once in his life, un- 
less the rope should break before his neck 
u broke; and you had better take all the 
time yoo can get. Mr. Clerk, since it makes 
no difference to Mr. Green when he is hung, 
jast look into the almanac, and see whe- 
ther this day four weeks comes on Sunday." 

The clerk looked as he was directed, and 
reported that that day four weeks came on 
Thursday. 

"^ Then," said the judge, " Mr. Green, if 
/on please, you will be hung this day four 
veeks, at twelve o'clock." 

The attorney-general, James Turney, 
Esq , here interposed and said, 

^ May it please the Court, on occasions 
of this sort it is usual for courts to pro- 
nounce a formal sentance, to remind the 
prisoner of his perilous condition, to re- 
prove him for his guilt, and to warn him 
a^inst the judgment of the world to come." 

"Oh, Mr. Turney," said the judge, "Mr 
Green understands the whole matter ; he 
knows he has got to be hung. Tou under- 
•Uod it Mr. Green, don't you ?" 

** Certainly," said the prisoner. 



" Mr. Sheriff, adjourn the court." 
Four weeks that day Mr. Green was hung 
but not so much to his own satisfaction as 
his appearance promised on the day of bis 
conviction. 

Thb art of dunning is not reckoned 
among the fine or polite arts. Indeed 
there are no rules on the subject, as each 
case must be tried by itself, the success of 
various expedients being very much " as 
you light upon chaps." At times a lucky 
accident brings the money out of a slow 
debtor, after the manner following : One 
of our merchants, nervous and irritable, 
received a letter from a customer in the 
country begging for more time. Turning 
to one of his counting-room clerks, he says, 

" Write to this man immediately." 

" Yes, sir ; what shall I say?" 

The merchant was pacing the office, and 
repeated the order : 

" Write to him at once." 

"Certainly, sir . what do you wish me to 
say?" 

The merchant was impatient, and broke 
out, " Something or nothing, and that very 
quick." 

The clerk waited for no farther orders, 
but consulting his own judgment, wrote 
and dispatched the letter. By the return 
mail came a letter from the delinquent 
customer, inclosing the money in full of 
the account. The merchant's eye glistened' 
when he opened it, and, hastening to his 
desk, said to the clerk, 

*• What sort of a letter did you write to 
this man ? Here is the money in full." 

" I wrote just what you told me to, sir. 
The letter is copied in the book." 

The letter-book was consulted, and there 
it stood, short and sweet, and right to the 
point : 

"DiAR Sir,— Something or nothing, and 
that very quick. Yours, Ac, ," 

And this letter brought the money, when 
a more elaborate dun would have failed of 
the happy effect. 

C^e <^as^tonf . 

Our last " cut patterns " for dresses and 

the prettiest of the season, we think— are 
plain waist, with moderately long point 
front and back, hooked in front, and orna- 
mented with " fancy buttons " of a large 
size; for bright colored materials, plain 
mould, covered with black velvet, com- 
mencing abont one inch from the top of 
the waist— the first, the sixe of a << fifty 



286 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



cent piece," and eight or ten in nnmber, 
80 graduated that the last is not larger 
than a " half dime." In some instances 
each button has two tassels, of colors to 
match the staflf, and proportioned to the 
size of the button. 

The sleeves accompanying this waist, 
are very stylish, called the "New Pagoda." 
They are in one piece and cut straightway 
of the cloth, "tunnel shaped." Any of 
our readers may cut this pattern for them- 
selres, by observing this much : get the 
length of the arm, from shoulder to wrist, 
then fold your cloth and measure across the 
top ten inches ; cut one third of the way 
down, bearing ofif so that at this point it 
measures twelve inches ; ' the remaining 
two thirds are left open, and ruffled with 
the same, three inches in width. For 
woolen, or silk, it is best to have the ruffle 
" bias," with a small cord hemmed in, top 
and bottom. It has two box-plaits at the 
top, four inches in length, which are to be 
trimmed with buttons to match the waist. 

The skirts do not vary from what we 
have described in the earlier part of the 
season. 

The thin material of which evening 

dresses are mostly made, have oftener high 

than low bodies, gathered on the shoulders 

and open in front, with chemisette, and 
undersleeves of Tulle. Ribbon sashes, 
with long ends, or where belt and buckle 
are preferred, there must be long floating 
ends of Tulle, trimmed round with narrow 
blonde lace. This is airy and pretty for 
evening. The headdress should be of 
mingled flowers, tulle and blond. 

Bonnets. 

Velvets, Leghorns, and Belgian Straws, 
trimmed with ostrich feathers and black 
chantoly lace. By the late steamer we 
have precisely the same advices now that 
we gave our readers two months ago, in 
respect to the shape and size of Ladies' 
Bonnets, and style of trimming, etc., etc. 
We call the attention of the ladies to this 
fact : that we are ahead in our publication 
of the Fashions, and mean to keep so. 
We refer you to our October number to 
compare it with what we now extract from 
" Leslie's " : " Whatever doubt might have 
been entertained, a month or two ago, of 
the tendency of Bonnets to increased size, 
there cannot possibly be any at the pres- 



ent time. The latest importations from 
leading Parisian houses settle the question 
definitely ; bonnets are larger, not wider, 
but decidedly longer. As we have noticed 
elsewhere, there is an actual crown, or 
head-piece, fitting the head, besides the 
front, which has of late done duty for it ; 
and which, indeed, has been called front, 
apparently, because it was always on the 
back of the head. The result of this in- 
crease of size, is a decided increase of 
comfort to the wearer." 

S Ufa Btntnl Sftcmariw. 
Mink is the fashionable fur ; Scotch 
brown is the fashionable color for street 
gloves,' as also a favorite color for parasols. 
The newest importation of shawls are the 
Long Shawl. It is confidently expected 
that tight sleeves will be our next estab- 
lished fashion — indeed, it may properly be 
said they are fashionable now, as some of 

" The fortttDftte few, 
With letters blue, 
Good for a aeat and nearer view,** 

on that occasion (The Diamond Wedding) 
wore them. 



Pfont^lg $£C0rb of Annntt CBnds. 

Two thousand one hundred ounces of 
silver bullion were deposited in the U. S. 
Branch Mint, in this city, on the 18th and 
20th of October, which had been extracted 
from ore brought from the silver mines in 
Washoe Valley. 

A new paper entitled the Northern Jour^ 
ncUj was issued at Yreka, on the 3d ult. by 
J. Dumont & Go. 

A disastrous fire broke out at Volcano, 
Amador county, on the 29th of October, 
destroying the entire business portion of 
the town, with the exception of a few fire- 
proof stores. Losses from $60 to $76,000. 

The Demoeratie Age^ is the title of a new 
paper published on the 6th ult. in Sonora, 
Tuolumne county, by T. N. Machin.; 

Six thousand gallons of wine, says the 
Age^ were produced this year near Sonora. 

A petition to the legislature was in cir- 
culation in a portion of Sierra county ^Mo 
create a new county, the name of whic?i8 
to be Alturas. 

On the 6th ult. the steamers IJncIe Sam 
and Sonora left their respective docks, for 
Panama; the former carried about 600 
passengers, and the Sonora about 400. The 
amount of treasure shipped by the Sonora 
was $1,699,648 60. A very large number 
of women and children were on board. 

The new iron tubular bridge, in coarse 



EDITOR'S TABLE. 



287 



of constmction, across the Yuba river, at 
Park'8 Bar, was washed down bj the sad- 
den rise of the river on the 5th ult. 

G. E. Garrison sold out his interest in 
the old Nicaragua line of steamers to Com- 
nodore YanderbUt 

The Evening Po9t is the name of a new 
dailj paper published in Sacramento city, 
•1 twelve and a half cents per week. 

The California Steam Navigation Com- 
panj passed a resolution to run a Sunday 
boat to Sacramento city whenever the ar- 
rival of the Atlantic mails may make it 
reqoisite. 

October 20th a fire broke out in the 
flourishing town of Coulterville, when a 
mother and her two children were burned 
to death. Nearly every building consumed. 

A new line of stages was established 
October 25th, to run between San Andreas 
and Mokelnmne Hill. 

The Sonora Herald^ established July 4th, 
1850, ceased to exist, after braving the un- 
certainties of newspaper life for nine years 
and nearly four months. 

A new steamboat, named the ^'Dasha- 
way," was launched at Steamboat Point. 
on the 9th nit. and commenced her trips 
to Sacramento as an opposition boat. 

The largest schooner yet built in this 
State was launched from the shipyard at 
Redwood City, on the 20th ult She is 
105 feet long, has 28 feet 6 inches breadth 
of beam, and is 220 tons measurement. 

Honey Lake, which was formerly about 
sixteen miles long by eleven broad, (not 
twenty by forty miles, as has been assert- 
ed), has become entirely dry. 

Two hundred and eighty U. S. troops 
arrived in the Oolden Gate on the 12th 
nit. bound for the North. 

The Germans of California celebrated 



tl\e centennial anniversary of the birth-day 
of Schiller, on the 13th and 14th ult. 

The publication of the Yreka Union was 
discontinued. 

A new military company, called the 
"California Light Guards," made its first 
public appearance in San Francisco on the 
14th of November. 

Lieut. Gen. Winfield Scott arrived in the 
Northerner from San Juan, on the 20th 
ult. and left for Washington on the J. L. 
Stephens on the 21st. 

The lectures of Bayard Taylor in this 
State are said to have netted him $5,000, 
in two months. 

The amount of gold sent to the East this 
year, up to November 2l8t, is $44,302,051, 
whilst for the corresponding period of last 
year, $43,975,686 were sent off, so that the 
shipments thus far for this year, exceed 
those of last year by $326,365. 

The Marysville Water Works were com- 
pleted, filled, and ready to supply the city. 

On the 21st ult the John L. Stephens 
sailed with $1,8*77,429 in treasure, and — 
passengers. Owing to the non-arrival of 
the mail steamer Cortes, the Sierra Nevada 
not being in sailing condition, the P. M. S. 
S. Co's steamer Stephens was the only one 
that left for Panama on the 2l8t, and she 
carried the U. S. mails, for which the 
Mail Company paid $10,000. 

On the morning of the 26th ult. the 
Cortes arrived with the U. S. mails and 
passengers, having been detained by the 
non-arrival of the North Star at Aspinwall, 
caused by her running on a coral reef off 
the Bahama Islands, where she was de- 
tained six days. 

More rain fell during November of this 
year than at any former time in the same 
month since California has been a State. 



debitor's Cabh. 



OWING to the recent and extensive 
discoveries of gold, silver, copper, 
and other metals, on the flats, and 
in the rarines surrounding Washoe, Walk- 
er^i, and Carson rivers. Mono Lake, Honey 
Lake and other vallies on the eastern slope 
of the Sierra Nevada range, there are signs 
of a second golden era being quietly in- 
aognrated on the Pacific Coast. Prospect- 



ing parties now out, from the Siskiyou 
mountains to the Colorado river, we doubt 
•not will add their quota of experience in 
confirmation of the fact. 

Unfortunately, these discoveries create 
too much excitement in unstable minds, 
and revive the morbid desire to become 
suddenly rich. Such failures — ^to the many 
— as Gold Bluff, Gold Lake, Kern River, 



288 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



and Frazer riyer, are valaelcss in the les- 
sons thej might teach. Nothing less than 
a personal trial and disappointment will 
satisfy. Some men in their impatience to 
be there, are even now selling out good 
claims, at a great sacrifice, in which most 
probably their fortunes could be found. 
Abir, when snow is covering every foot of 
ground, and provisions, clothing, and tools 
are exorbitantly high ; and when not a 
stroke of successful labor can possibly be 
performed for several months; or one 
blow given to advance the worker in his 
road to fortune. Our advice to such eager 
spirits must be this: ^'keep cool, wait, 
do not be induced by any fine imaginary 
picture of wealth to be procured, to quit a 
claim that is paying you moderate wages; 
or any business that is reasonably remune- 
rative. Think this over quietly.*' 

That there is gold and silver in paying 
quantities, in some explored districts, there 
is no reason to doubt. That hundreds of 
men already there, are obtaining nothing, 
is also equally clear. That others will go 
who never did or could accomplish any- 
thing, is alike plain ; for the simple reason 
that labor, which is the philosopher's stone, 
they will not, as they love it not. Many 
are carried away with the delightful idea 
of kicking out nuggets of gold as they 
walk ; or expect to find a fortune without 
the fatigue of working for it — these may 
be disappointed, And their reports — like 
many who visit California, and return be- 
cause they did not make their fortune in a 
few brief weeks or months, and which, in 
any other section of the Union is the work 
of a life-time — will be unfavorable and 
untrue. 

As this discovery will give a new impe- 
tus to emigration from the other side, it 
must have an important influence on the 
future destinies of the entire Pacific coast; 
and be an additional reason, with clear 
and candid minds, for the early commence- 
ment and rapid construction of the Pacific 
and Atlantic Railroad. 

Judging from the past as well as ftom 
the present mail facilities by sea, the efR?ct 



of Government patronage, by contract,un- 
fortunately for California, seems to be to 
retard, rather than accelerate the speedy 
transmission of mail matter. When the 
Pacific Mail Steamship Company carried 
the U. S. mails, between San Francisco 
New Orleans and New York, the average 
time consumed was about twenty-five days. 
But as that company does not now possess 
the contract, they can perform the trip in 
about twenty-two days. While the Atlan- 
tic and Pacific Mail Steamship Company's 
vessels — the old Nicaragua and Yanderbilt 
line united, and never very swifl — now they 
carry the mails, do not accomplish the trip 
in less than from twenty-five to twenty-six 
days, and are sometimes much longen the 
Overland mail anticipating the steamer's 
news, three fourths of the time. 

In order to correct this, we would pro- 
pose that the contract be continued only 
with that Company that will accomplish 
the trip and carry the mails in the shMtest 
time — accidents excluded. 



So Aoninlnttors anb Comsponbtnis. 

A, ff, K, — Will you please to explain what 

you mean by these lines from your poem 

-entitled" The Hills?"— 

** I love th« hlUi whoM Undly soU 
No tribvAo jieldi to sona of loil." 

Also — 

" I loy« the rough old hillB whoae ban 
Of ruggednesB doth rite 'fftlnit mao.** 

Others are equally doubtful; and yet 
there is considerable poetic merit in the 
piece. Why did you not send us your 
name, that we might confer with you 
privately ? 

R — Our hands are perfectly ftill in simply 
attending to our own business only. We 
have neither time nor disposition to 
meddle with the affairs of others. Go 
thou and do likewise. 

A, P., ffomitot, — Before you get too much 
excited about the Washoe diggings, 
where now there is several feet of snow, 
we would ask you to call to mind the 
Gold Lake, Gold Bluff, Kern and Frazer 
river bubbles. Hard work will be quite 
as hard in Washoe as in diggings near 
your town. You had better make up 
your mind to that before you start. Take 
things a little more coolly, A. P. 



HDTCHiNGS' 

CALIFORSIA MAGAZINE. 

"Vol. I"V. JAJ^TJARY, I860. No. 7. 
A TBIP TO THE CALIFORNIA GEYSEK8. 

BT PAHORAHICS. 



Till WITCH'I OAOLDMIIC. 



290 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



moYod aoT088 the cheerless water ; and 
their commanding officer — the wind — 
seemed to be continually saying " for- 
ward/' as it whistled through the rigging 
of the ships. 

The individual who is always just too 
late, made his appearance, as usual, as 
the steamer's fasts were cast off, and her 
wheels commenced their lively though 
monotonous ditty in the water. 

Two or three Whitehall boatmen, who 
were lying off the wharf, evidently expect- 
ing such a "fare," gave their lazily playing 
skulls a vigorous ^ull, which sent their 
beautiful little craft darting, in to the 
wharf. The boy with the basket of or- 
anges hastened to offer the would be 
traveler " three for two bits," by way of 
consolation ; and as he slowly proceeded 
up the dock again, the other boy with 
the papers and magazines called his at- 
tention to the last "Harper's," or "Hutoh- 
ings," I oould'nt distinguish clearly 
which. 

The ten thousand voices of the city be- 
caine blended into a continuous roar, as 
we glided oat into the stream ; the long 
drawn " go-o-o ahead," or " hi-i-gh," of 
the stevedores at their work discharging 
the stately clippers, being about the only 
intelligible sound to be distinguished 
above the mass. 

Soon the outermost ship, on board of 
which a disconsolate looking "jolly tar" 
was riding down one of the head stays, 
giving it a " lick " of tar as he went, was 
passed, and we struck the strong current 
of wind which was blowing in at the 
Gk)lden Gate, (carelessly left open, as 
usual.) The young giant of a oity had 
become swallowed up in the gloom of the 
fog, and its thousands of busy people 
ceased to exist, except in our imagina- 
tions. After passing Angel Island, the 
fog began to lift ; we were approaching 
the edge of the bank ; and soon the sun 
appeared, hard at work at his apparently 
hopeless task of devouring the intruding 



fog, which had dared to interpose its cold 
biUowB between him and the bay, upon 
which he loves to shine. 

The course of the boat was along the 
western side of Pablo Bay, close enough 
to the shore to pve the passengers a fine 
view of it, as well as of the inland coun- 
try, and the more distant mountains of 
the coast range. Large masses of misty 
clouds, which had become detaohed from 
the main fog bank, still partially obscured 
the sunlight, casting enormous shadows 
along the hill sides and across the plains ; 
heightening, by contrast, the golden tinge 
of the wild oats, and giving additional 
beauty to the varied tints of the cultiTated 
fields. Beyond, Tamal Pais, and the 
lesser peaks of the coast range, piled 
their wealth of purple light and misty 
shadows against the brightness of the 
western sky. 

I wonder that our artists in their search 
for the picturesque, have overlooked the 
splendid scene which Tamal Pais and the 
adjacent mountains presents from the vi- 
cinity of Red Rock, or from the eastern 
shore of the straits. It is certainly one 
of the most picturesque scenes any where 
in the vicinity of San Francisco; especi- 
ally towards sunset, when the long streaks 
of sunlight come streaming down the 
ravines, piercing with their golden light 
the hazy mystery which envelops the 
mountains, and brilliantly illaminatiog 
the intervening plains and hill sides. 
From the familiarity of the view, a good 
picture would, without doubt^ be much 
sought after. 

The seamanship of the pilot was much 
exercised while navigating the Rambler 
up Petaluma Creek, The creek is merely 
a long, narrow, ditch-like indentation, 
which makes up into the flat tule plains 
at the northern side of Pablo Bay, and 
into which the tide ebbs and flows. Its 
course very much resembles the track of 
a man who has spent half an hour hunt- 
ing for a lost pocket-book in a field. If, 



A TRIP TO THE CALIPORNIA OBTSHRS. 



NAVtOlTlOII or PRAtDIIA CUIK. 

tR»T guiDg iwhile at the creek, the eje 
■hoald be inddetil; tnmed to k ttm'a 
born or » man tan it* atick, the latter 
TooU appear perfectly atraigbt, by com- 
pkriaoD. Finrt we woolil go towarda th« 
. north atar awhile, then we would oome to a 
abort bend where an immenae amount of 
backing and atop|ung and going ahead 
woald occar, whieh all reaulted in run- 
ning the boatbardand&ataahore. Than 
tb« pilot, perapiring freelj from hiario- 
lent eiartioDa at the wheel, would thruat 
hia bead out of the wlodow, and, after 
taking a aurref of the atate of affaito, 
wnaM pet himeelf to rin^ng the algnal 
bdb again. Then the orew would get 
o«t a krag pole, and planting one end in 
the bank, would apply their nnitad 
■trength to the other. No moTement I 
Tba the eaptaiu would heroioally rush 
aabore in the mud and tulaa, and e^l tor 
*iriaalMra lo help bim puab. Human 
atrengtb and alMm would triumph in 
iha and, and the " Rambler," with one 
aada all be«in»ar<d with mad, would go 
paddliBg off lowanU Cape Horn. After 



going a ihort distance in this direction, 
another bend would be reached, when 
more superhuman exertion on the part 
of the pilot would euaoe, and plump we 
would go athore again I The captun 
would giro utterance to a Tigorooa ex- 
clamation, (but as the expletire did no 
good, it is hardly neoeasaij to repeat it . 
here], and then he would jump into the 
mad again. Half the paaaengera would 
follow auit, the orew would go through 
with their pole ezerciaa, pilot would play 
another tune on the belle, engineer would 
get bothered, and finally off we would 
atart in the directioa of Japan, tearing 
the captain and hia shore party standing 
in the mud. Upon backing up for them 
to get on board, the boat would beoome 
faat again. This is a fair apeoimen of 
the navigation of Petaluma Creek abore 
the city, (of one houte,] called the Hay- 
stack. 

Before reaching Petalnma, we met a 
little ateamer coming down with a load 
of wood. She reaembled an immense 
pile of wood with a amoke-ataok in the 



392 



HDTCHINflS' CALIFORNIA HAOAZINE. 



cBDtre, floating down the stream. She 
appeared to take up the whole width of 
the creek, and our pawengen began to 
wonder how we were to get b;. It was 
a tight fib There waa not room enough 
left between the two boata to insert thia 
thoit of paper. The " Itambler" puffed, 
aud from the depths of the wood pile wa« 
heard a sort of wheeling, aa if half a 
doien people with bad colds were down 
there somewhere, all coughing at onoo. 
The captain gate utterance to a few more 
ezpletivee, as the rough ends of the wood 
defaced the new punt on our boat; but : 
the skipper of the wood pile only laughed, 
jet as the Rambler, in passing scraped 
off two or three cords of his cargo, it then 
became oar turn to laugh. 

Petaluma was reached at last, and the 
passengers for Healdaburg found a stage 
in waiting. JumpinK in, we were soon 



whining across tlie plains behind a 
couple of fine colla. The road la; direct- 
ly ap Petaluma and RnsMan River vat 
leje. Past the ranches — along the rides 
of interminable fields of com and grain 
— through the splendid park-like groves 
— Bometimea across the open plain, at 
others winding around the baaa of the 
hills which make up from the east«m side 
of the vallej. 

Santa Rosa, was reached bj sunset. 
Our aniTal waa hailed by the ringing of 
a great number and larie^ of bells. 
How ungular it is (hat the arrival of a 
stage-coach in a country town always sets 
the dinner bells to ringing, eapedally if 
the occurrence happens about meal time. 

By the time supper waa dispatched, 
and a pair of sober old stagers put to in 
the place of our &isky young colts, the 
moon had risen over the mountains, and 



" WILL, lOU NnSH I QDAKUL ABODT IT. ' 

vas flooding the valley with her glorious | hoore carried us to the end of our first 
sheen, tipping the fine old oaks with a day'sjonmej, Healdsburg. 
silvery fringe of light, and laying their On the fbllovring morning, I was n- 
aolemn shadows along the grass and commended to apply at the stable oppo- 
BCT iss the road. A pleasant ride of two site the hotel for a horae. Having selected 



A TKIP TO THE OALIFOBMA aST8KR& 



1 M>t to kick np nor atend 

oa Ua bind lag*, nor jmnp rtiff-leggod, 

aor play mj other pranks, "Old Petar " 

WM Mddled and bridled ; m; portfbUo, 

(wUob for want of abetUrooming, was 

earriad in an old barlej 

aaek.) was ilnnK on one 

aida^ and m; wardrobe, 

(nonaiatinf of one ard- 

de,«hioh it ia hardly 

Deoeaaarj to apeoifj,) 

depeaded at tbe othor. 

A whip vaa added to 

Mn[det0 the oatflt, ao- 

OBwipaated by the oboer- 
Tation that aa "Old 
Pate" waaaptio "ao- 
gar," " I might find it 
aMfaL" 

Tbaa tbe atable man 
atterapted to deeeribe 
the nad to lUy'a ranoh. ^ 

Firat I woald oome to a bridge ; a mile 
beyond that I would lee a houM, which I 
waa topay no attention to, but look oat for 
a hayatack. Hariag found the hayataok, 
I waa to tarn to the left, and would aoon 
eooM to a loDg lana, which would lead me 
to another hooM, where I wm either to 
tnm to the right or keep straight ahead, 
be had Ibrgottwi which. At this point of 
the daeoriptioo, a byatander interpoaed 
that I mnat tarn to the left, and upon 
thia an argument aprnng up between tbe 
two which nearly led to a flght. 

Knding that there waa aot muoli in- 
lormation to be elicited from thoee wit- 
neaaea, I gave "Old Pete" a touch and 
eurted, with my head buixiagwith right 
and left hand coada, while a regiment of 
raochea, laaea and hajatacka, seemed to 
be "a bobbing 'roaod " joat ahead of the 
bone'a noae. I found the bridge, and 
aaw Iha bonae (which I waa to pay no 
attantioa to;] there waa no need of look- 
ing oat for a hayatack, for a doien were 
in (igbt ; ao, aelectiug the biggeat one, I 
tuned to tbe left, aooording to tbe chart 



Rode along about a mile, and oame to a 
feooe which barred any farther progreaa 
in that direction. Kept along the fence 
until I came to a lane which took me to 
a pur of bare. Let down the obabuo- 



WIT MOW, I wondibT 
tion, traversed another lane, and at tbe 
end of it, found myaelf in eomebody'i 
dooryard. It waa erident that I had 
taken the wrong road. I obtained freah 
directions at tbe farm house, but a« three 
four attempted at the aame time to tell 
I the way, all talking at once, and each 
inaisting upon his favorite route, I speed- 
ily became mixed ap again with another 
labyrinth of fbnoee, laneaand haystaoka. 
I began to donbt the axiateDce of such a 
place as " Ray's Ranch." It seemed for- 
ever retreating as I adranced. tike tfaa 
mythical crock of gold, bariefl at the foot 
of a rainbow, which I remember starting 
in search of once, when a yoangster. 

Bat the ranch was found at last, and a 
very fine one it is, too. The bouse is 
situated a little way np in the foot-hill*, 
and oommands a splendid view of Rus- 
sian River Valley, the Coast Range, 
Mount St. Helens, to. Tbe ranch itself, 
garden, orchards, and fields of wheat and 
com, is situated In a valley, jnat below 
the bonse, which makes op between the 
Bl«ep mountain side*. A brook winds 



HUTCmNGS' CALIFOROTA HAQAZENE. 



through Ibe wbole Itngth of tbe little ' 
tbIIsj, Aflbrding capital fMiliUeg for irri- ' 

gfttiOD, 

I had the good lack here to Tall in with 

Mr. G , one of the proprietors of the 

GajaerB, who wm also on the way op. 
From the accounts which have been pab- 
lisbed, I expected to find the road from 
here a rough one. But it is nothing of 
the sort. It is a yerj good mountain 
trail, wide enough for a wagon to pass 
along ita whole length. Buggies have 
be«ii clear through, and could go agua, 
\i ore a few days' work to be expended 
upon the tru). It is quite steep, in many 
places, aa a matter of course ; but from 
the fact that Mr. G (who was mount- 
ed upon a young colt, that had never be- 
fore been ridden, and had simply a piece 
of tope by way of bridle] trotltd down 



most of the decliTiUes, the reader may 
iafor that tbe grade is Dot so very steep. 
I must saj, though, that "old Pete" 
didn't exactly relish the ide* ot bong id 
such a hurry. 

The first three or fbor milea beycnd 
R&j's, to the Bummit of the fisrt ridge, 
is all up hill; nearly ITOOfeetin altitude 
being guned in that distanoe, or 2288 
feet above the level of the sea, Bay's 
being 617. 

There are few places in all Oabfoniia, 
where a more magnificent view oan be 
obtuned, than the oqa seen from this 
ridge. The whole valley of Rnawitn 
River lies like a map at your feet, ex- 
tending from the southeast and aonth, 
where it joins Pelaluina valley, clear 
round to the northwest. The course of 
the river can be traced for miles, fitr 



bat's rahck ANn bussiah bivik tallit, 
away; alternately sweeping its great 
curves of rippling silver ont into the 
opening plain, or disappearing behind 
the dark masses of timber. From one 
end of the valley to the other, the golden 
yellow of the plain is diversified by the 
darker tints of the noble oaks. In some 
places they stand in great crowds ; then 
an open spaoe will occur, with perhaps a 
few scattered trees, which serve to con- 
duct the eye to where a long line of them 
appears, like an army drawn up for re- 
view, with a few single trees in front by 



way of officers ; and in the rear, a con- 
fused crowd of stragglers, to represent 
the ba^iage tr^n and camp followera. 
Here and there, among the oaks, the 
vivid green foliage, and bright red stems 
of the graceful madrone, can be seen ; 
and on the banks of the river, the ulvery 
vrillows and the dusky sycamores. 

The beauty of the plain is still more 
enhanced, by the numerous ranches, irith 
their widely extending fields of ripe grun 
and verdant oom. 

Beyond the valley, is the long extend- 



A TRIP TO THS CALIFORNIA QRYSSRS. 



295 



ing line of the ooaet moontainB. The 
slaatiiig rsys of the declining san was 
ovenpreading the mysterious blae and 
poiple of their shadowy sides* with a 
glorious golden haie, through whose 
ganaj splendor could be traced the sum- 
mils, only, of the different ranges — tow- 
ering one above the other, each succeed- 
ing one fiunter than the last, until the 
indeaeribably fine outline of the highest 
pmkn, but one remove, in color, from the 
sky itself, bounded the prospect 

Towards the southeast, we could see 
Moont Saint Helen's, and the upper part 
of Napa Valley. Sunt Helen's is cei^ 
tainly the most beautiful mountain in 
California. It is far from being as lofty 
as tta more pretentious brethren of the 
Sierra Nevada, and by the side of the 
great Shasta Butte it would be dwarfed 
to a mole hill; but its chaste and grace- 
ful outline is the very ideal of mountun 
form. There is said to be a copper plate, 
bearing an inscription, on the summit of 
this mountain, placed there by the Rus- 
sians many years ago. 

Away off, towards the south, we could 
discern that same old fog, still resting, 
like a hage incubus, upon San Francisco 
bay. Ita fleecy billows were constantly 
in motion, now obscuring, now revealing 
the summits of different peaks, which 
foee like islands out of the sea of clouds. 
Above, and far beyond the fog, the view 
laraiinated vrith l^e long, level line of 
the bine Paeific, sixty or seventy miles 
distant. 

From the point where we have stopped 
to take this extended view, (too much 
extended, on paper, perhaps the reader 
win think), the horses dimbed slowly up 
the steep ascent, leading to a plateau, on 
the northern side of a mountain, which 
has received no less than three different 
names. As it is a difficult matter, among 
•0 many titles, to fix upon the proper 
one, I win enumerate them all, and the 
reader can take his choice. The moun- 



tain vras first called "Godwin's Peak," 

in honor of there, G , the cat's 

out of the bag I your name has got into 
print, in spite of my endeavor to keep it 
out. With characteristic modesty, Mr. 

G^ declined the honor which the name 

conferred upon him, and it was changed 
by somebody or other to "Geyser Peak;" 
but, for some unknown reason, this name 
also failed to stick, and somebody ehe 
came along and called it "Sulphur Peak." 
Both the latter names are inappropriate, 
for there are no Geysers nor no sulphur 
within five miles of the mountain. G., 
I am afraid you will have to endare your 
houors, and stand god-father to it 

The " Peak" rises to the height of 3471 
feet above the level of the sea, and its 
sides are covered, clear to the summit, 
with a thick growth of tangled chaporal. 
From here, the trail runs along the nai^ 
row ridge of the mountains, forming the 
divide between "Sulphur Creek, (an 
odious name for a beautiful trout stream,) 
and Piuton River. The ridge is called 
the "Hog's Back" — still another name, 
as inappropriate as it is homely. The 
ridge much more resembles the back of 
a horse which has just crossed the plains, 
or has dieted for some time on shavings, 
than that of a plump porker. From the 
end of this ridge the trail is quite level, 
as far as the top of the hill, which pitch- 
es sharply down to the river, and at the 
foot of which the Geysers are situated. 

When about two-thirds of the way 
down the hill, the rushing noise of the 
escaping steam of the Great Geyser can 
be heard; but, unless the stranger's at- 
tention was called to it, he would mistake 
the sound for the roaring of the river. 
About this Ume, too, is recognised the 
sulphurous smell with which the air is 
impregnated. 

Just as the traveler bepns seriously to 
think that the hill has no bottom, the 
white gable end of the hotel, looking 
strangely out of place among its vrild 



EUTCHINQS' CALIFORNIA HAOAZIVX. 



GiraiK BPBiNas botkl. 



snTToandtngs, eomM onexpectedl; into 
right, Rnd bii trip is ended. 

VpoD avakening, on the folloiring 
tnoralDg, it wai a difficult matter to con- 
vinoe mjaelf tliat I bad not been traue- 
ported, wbile uleep, to the close vidoitj 
of some of tbe wharrei in San Francisco 
— tbere was mob a potBerJid smell of 
what seemed to be anoient doclc mud. It 
was the solphur. The smell is a trifle 
uDpIesBant at first, but one soon becomes 
aocuHtomed to it, and rather likee it than 
otberwiae. 

Tbe view of the Oejsers, trtaa tbe fao- 
tol, is a Ter; striking one, more eepeoiallj 
in tbe morniog, when tbe steam can be 
plainly teen, issuing from the earth in a 
hundred different places ; the nameroDs 
eolnmna uniting at some distance above 
tbe earth, and forming an immense clond, 
which OTerbangs the whole caflon. 

As the sun advancee above the hills, 
This cloud is speedily " eaten up," and 



the different oolnmne of ileam, with the 
exception of those from the Steamboat 
Geyser, the Witches' Cauldron, and a few 
others, become invisible, being evaporated 
as feet as they issue from the ground. 

Breakfut disposed of, Hr. 0. kindly 
offered to conduct me to the different 
springs. The trail descends abroptly 
from the house, among the tangled nn- 
dergrowth of the steep mountain aide, to 
the river, some ninety feet below. We 
passed on the way tbe long row of batb- 
ing-honses, tbe water for which ia con- 
veyed across tbe river in a lead pipe, 
from a hot sulphnr-apring on the opposite 

The unearthly looking caflon, in which 
most of the springs are sitnated, makee 
ap into the mountains directly from the 
river. A email stream of water, which 
rises at the bead of the oaflon, flows 
through its whole length. Tbe stream is 
pure and oold at its source, bnt gradually 



A TRIP TO THE CALIFORNIA 0E7SBBS. 



osmx curoN. 



beeonea bMted, uid iu parity odly ml- 
lied, u it noeiTea Uis waMn of th« dh- 
moooi ipriDga ftloDg its baolH, 

Bot ■prioga and oold aprioga ; white, 
red, and black anlphnr apringa ; iron, 
aod*, kod bailing alum aprings ; and the 
deuce OdIj knows what Other kind of 
aprinp, all pour their medicated water* 
into the little itream, an til ite onee pore 
and limpid water, — like a hamao patieat, 
made aiek bj orer-doctaring, — beoomn 
pale, and baa a wbejiah, aieklj, nnnat- 
BTsI look, a* it feTerlafal J toaaea and tan- 
blaa orer ita rookj bed. 

A ahort distance ap the eallon, there i* 
a da^, abadj pool, which reoeiTsa the 
■njtad water* of all the spring* abore it. 
By the line the itream reaches here, ite 
■edicated water* become cooled to the 
I wup er a lare of a warm lammer day, 
aad the baain forma, perhaps, the moet 
loEBriova bath to be opened in the world. 
A few feet from thia, there ia a warm 
alnm and iron apring, wboee water ie 
nor* thorongbly impr^;nated than any 
of Ifaeotbera. 

A litde way farther np, ie " Proeer- 



smong the wild rock*, oompletely ear- 
ronndedand encloeed by the fautaatio 
roota and twisted branohea of the bay 
trees, and roofed over by their wide- 
apreading foliage. Glimpse* of the nar- 
gorge abore, with ita nunerons oae- 
eades, can be obtained tiittnigb the open* 
of the tree* ; the whole forming one 
of the fineet " little bit*," as an artist 
would call it, to be fonnd in ttie oountry. 
As we proeeeded np the caflon, ttie 
springs beoane more nnmerooa. They 
were babbling and boiling in OTeiydireo- 
tion, I hardly dared to d)Ot«. for fear 
of patting iby foot into a apring of boil- 
ing alnm, or ted mlpbnr, or some Miwr 
infernal coDCoetion, The water of the 
atream, too, was now aoaldiog hot, end 
the roeka, and the ommbling, porona 
earth, were nearly ee hot aa the water. 
I took good oare to literally " follow in 
the footatepc of my illnatriona predeeee' 
eor," aa he hopped aboat from boaUer to 
bonlder, or rambled along in (aa I 
thought) dangarons proximity to the 
boiling waters. Eiery nonent he would 
pick up a bandfnU of nagneeia, or alum, 
or anlphnr, or taitario aeid, or Epasn 



298 



HUTCHINGS' OALIFOBNIA MAGAZINE. 



salts, or some other nasty stuff, plenty 
of which encrusted all the rocks and earth 
in the vicinity, and invite me to taste 
them. From frequent nibblings at the 
different deposits, my mouth became so 
puckered up, that all taste was lost for 
anything. 

In addition to these strange and unnat- 
ural sights, the ear was saluted by a 
great variety of startling sounds. Every 
spring had a voice. Some hissed and 
sputtered like water poured upon red 
hot iron; others reminded one of 
of the singing of a tea-kettle, or the purr- 
ing of a cat ; and others seethed and bub- 
bled like so many cauldrons of boiling 
oil. One sounded precisely like the ma- 
chinery of a grist mill in motion, (it is 
called " The Devil's Grbt Mill,") and 
another, like the propeller of a steamer. 

High above all these sounds, was the 
loud roaring of the great "Steamboat 
Geyser.''*- The steam of this Geyser 
issues with great force from a hole about 
two feet in diameter,' and it is so heated 
as to be invisible until it has risen to 
some height from the ground. It is 
highly dangerous to approach very close 
to it unless there is sufficient wind to 
blow the steam aside. 

But the most startling of all the va- 
rious sounds was a oontinuous subierrar 
nean roar, similar to that which precedes 
an earthquake. 

I must confess, that when in the midst 
of all these horrible sights and sounds, 

I felt very much like suggesting to G 

the propriety of returning, but a fresh 
handfull of Epsom salts and alum, mixed, 
stopped my mouth, and by the time I had 
oeaaed spattering over the puckerish 
oompound, the ** Witches Cauldron" was 
reached. (See Vignette.) This is a hor- 
rible plaoe. " Mind how you step here. 



}> 



* Tbli Ckyier to Aowtk tik the vtev of ** 0«jMr 
OftQon." It is the upper large columnof iteam on 
the left tide of the canon ; the one below ft, and 
Mtror the •p«ctotor,lf the "Witches' Cauldron.** 
Ttkt foreground of the Tlew Is occupied by the 
•* MonntaHi of nr«,** fkrom which the itreaia lanist 
by a bondred different apertures. 



said G- , as we approached it; and 

with the utmost caution, I placed my tena 
in his tracks, that is, as much of them as 
I could get in. 

The cauldron is a hole, sunk like a 
well in the precipitous side of the mount- 
ain, and is of unknown depth. It is 
filled to the brim with something that 
looks very much like burnt cork and wa- 
ter. (I believe the principal ingredient 
is black sulphur.) This liquid blackness 
is in constant motion, bubbling and surg- 
ing from side to side, and throwing up 
its boiling spray to the height of three 
or four feet. Its vapor deposits a black 
sediment on all the rocks in its vicinity. 

There are a great many other springs 
— some two hundred in number, I be- 
lieve—of every gradation of temperature, 
from boiling hot to icy cold, and impreg- 
nated with all sorts of minerf^ and chem- 
ical compounds ; frequently the two ex- 
tremes of heat and cold are found within 
a few inches of each other. But as all 
the other springs present nearly the same 
characteristics as most of those already 
referred to, it would be but a tedious 
repetition to attempt to describe more. 
They are all wonderful. The ordinary 
observer can only look at them, and won- 
der that such things exist; but to the 
scientific man, one capable of divining 
the mysterious cause of their action, the 
study of them must be an exquisite 
delight. 

It is worth the traveler's while to climb 
the mountains on the north side of the 
PlutoUi for the fine view which their 
summits afford on every hand ; towards 
the north, a part of Clear Lake can be 
seen, some fifteen miles distant. But 
perhaps the scene which would delight a 
lover of nature most, can be obtained by 
rising early and walking back half a mile 
upon the trail which descends to the 
hotel. It is to see the gorgeous tints of 
the eastern sky as the sun comes climb- 
ing up behind the distant mountuns, and 



LASSBN'S PEAK. 



•fkerwkrda to watoh hu long alauting 
njra in the iUnmiiiftted mist, u tbey oome 
•tnuaing down the CsfloD of the Pluton, 
l l— hi o g on the water in dote and splaabes 
of dai»ling light, and tipping the rich 
■hadowa of the doaelj worttn foliage with 
a fringe of gold. 



raoaiariiti's obotto. 

Seoae paopU hare aaid that Oalifonia 
K waarj ia Bmotaoaiw, that har moonl- 
aiM an all alike, and that her ekiei re- 
pMt MMh other 6«iQ day to day. Boliert 
than Bo^ ja diatant icadera, to whom, 
aa jat, oar ^oriotu Califbraia ■■ an nn- 



lai^wMiatiTa eoals, not in 
, towering ridge 
npoa ridga v>til tb« king line of the 
fcrt ha^ paab baooaiM blended with tha 
draamy haaa that lorea to lingarroand 
tbair aaanita.. And the gergsona glow 
of oar annriaaa, « tha etUl nora gorgMM 
gnan and orange^ and gold and erimaoB, 



of oar Boneeta, reflect theit haaTOalj huea 
upon doll ejM indeed when tfaej oan we 
no beau^ in them. 



LASSEN'S PEAK. 



DoBiNO the first few- jean after the 
dieooverj of gold in California, there 
were thonsaDda of rumon in oiroulation 
abont big strikes and rich misea in rari- 
ODS qaartars, that kept eren the mora 
oool and aelf-oalcnlating in a flutter, 
while tlie more moronrial were oonatant- 
ly on the teamp, in aaarch of better 
digging!. 

It waa enmmer time, in the jear 1651, 
when a partj oonaiating of tea minera 
eet ont from Onion Valley, in aeareh of 
"the lona cabin," parpor^g to hnTe 
been built aomewbere near the bead wa> 
tars of Feather lUTer, which take their 
rise some distanoe northeaet of Lasaen'a 
Peak, and ooeafHad by a small par^ of 
minara, who had apent the winter there, 
and ware making their fortnnes. 

Hadam Brnnor had reporlad, qnita onr- 
rently, that one of their party had oome 
after a anpply of proriaiona, and eoofi- 
dently told one of hie frienda of die 
wbereabonte of the new digginge. This 
newa aAntad tbe minen In the rioinity 
of Onion Valley, and oar party waa aoon 
made np, and ataitad in teanb of tbia 
new B] Dorado. Between Indian VaUay 
and Um north fiwfc of feather rirar, wa 
met Patw Laassa, with a email pack 
train, oonTejing proridotiiaud merohan- 
diaa to hia sten in lodian Valley. 

Oar trail lad ift a uorthwaatwl j diroo- 
ttoo, orar an andolating aoantiy, baari* 
ly woodad with oadar and pine traaa, till 
we atmek tba Imnr end of " I ■iien'a 
Meadewi," throagh whiah bis wafon 
road paaaoa, leading froaa the HnmboMl 
iiTerto the Saoramento ralley. 

Tbeae meadowa are aitnatad on tha 
Mtthand aain bnaab of Feather rinr, 



300 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



and are about thirty miles in length and 
from ten to fifteen miles in width. Pass- 
ing np this valley, you are forcibly struck 
with its geological formation. It is a 
level prairie, covered with green verdure. 
Through the centre of these meadows, 
Feather river pursues its meandering 
course, being augmented by streams 
every few miles, running down the moun- 
tains on either side, and large springs 
welling out of the valley, thus watering 
the land and giving it that luxuriance 
and beauty which it is impossible to de- 
scribe. About one half of the valley is 
good, arable land, and this is a vride 
strip, lying on either side of the river, 
the whole length of the meadows. The 
earth is generally sufficiently moist to 
render irrigation unnecessary. 

There are vast numbers of wild fowl, 
mostly geese, duck, and brant, which 
rear their young in this valley during 
the spring time. 

Here lives a friendly tribe of Indians, 
consisting of some two hundred souls. 
These Indians subsist on acorns, fish, 
and wild game. Lassen's road passes 
over the lower end of this valley and 
strikes the head waters of Deer Creek. 
It is a good road, from the meadows, to 
the valley of Sacramento. 

Lassen's Peak stands at the head of 
these meadows, and is about twelve 
thousand feet above the level of the sea, 
and next to the highest mountain in Alta 
Califijmia. After all, there is something 
peculiarly interesting connected witli the 
associations of this mountain, as being a 
prominent land-mark of one of the early 
pioneers in coming to California. Lassen 
was the first man who made the ascent 
of this peak ; and what think you were 
his feelings, after he had made his vray 
from Salt Lake, and ascended this moun- 
tain to look, for the first time, from its 
summit upon the broad valley of the 
Sacramento T 

Winding our way, in a sigiag eourse, 



up the mountain, for some distance, we 
heard a rumbling noise, which resem- 
bled that of the puffing of a steamboat 
Following up this sound, some four miles, 
in the direction from whence it emanated, 
we arrived in sight of a hot ftpring, gurg- 
ling and bubling up through the earth, 
emitting steam, and occasionally sparks 
of fire, [I] and lava, while all around was 
scattered ashes and other volcanic mat- 
ter. Many have doubted the identity of 
this volcano, but we saw fire, smoke and 
lava, issue from this crater; the lava 
scattered over the ground, shows conclu- 
sively, that at times this volcano sends 
forth its fiery cinders. This volcano is 
situated to the south-east, or next to the 
highest table land of Lassen Peak. 

This mountain, severed by deep chasms 
and rugged ravines,4uid often broken into 
abrupt terminations by steep precipitous 
crags, looks grand and imposing. All 
bears the appearance of lava, and proba- 
bly has been upheaved by some subter^ 
ranean convulsion of nature. 

No verdure decks the granite crags of 
Lassen's Peak. No trees are scattered 
over its summit to relieve the eye from 
its barren waste — all seems to have been 
blasted by nature. The rooks which are 
scattered over its sides, yield no soil for the 
refreshing beauties of vegetation. This 
mountain is composed of gray granite, 
darkened by the storms of ages into a 
deep brown, while over its Bommii extends 
a wild and uncouth aspect of desolation. 

After resting for an hour, we made the 
final summit. The ascent was ea^ until 
we arrived on the last bench/ and fhua 
this up to the highest point it became 
more difficult. The large rocks, and long 
angular fragments, impeded our progress, 
and it required great efforts with oar feet 
and hands to advance upwards. But we 
finally succeed^ in reaching the snm- 
mit, ftcfm which we bel^eld one of the 
moat sublime panoramas to beaeen in 
CaHfomia. . 



LASSEN'S PEAK. 



301 



Tr»Telen who kre loouBtomed to nut 
and bebold luidsoapes of the svblinia uid 
the beauUful, c«n h&rdl; oooceive of k 
finer Tiew than the one from this mouot- 
What endleu food for memor; uid 
msaoci&tioii preiented itself to view in ell 
directions. The sigbt U unriTftled in 
beautj Ntd magDificence. It is like the 
TisioD of some dre&m land. Looking 
down, I fancied I oould aee all of the 
kingdoms of this world at ous glance. 
Mj posiUoo oommauded a \fide scope of 
the surrounding oountrj. The view to- 
wards the west presented the long and 
loftj wall of the Coast Range Mountains, 
extending north and south as far as the 
vision oould extend, with Mount Lion, 
Uonnt SL John, and Mount Riplejr, cut- 
ting in clear wav; outlines sg^st the 
blue heavens. Stretching between me 
and those distant mountvns, is the great 
Tatley of the Sacramento, throngh which 
can be Been the ever memorable Sacra- 
mento Riier, winding its way peacefnll;, 
like ft serpentine mirror, towards the Pa- 
cific. Its banks are disUoctlj defined b; 
a long line of oaks and sjcamores. Be- 
low, to the north and south, the foot 
hills of the Sierra Nevadas laj stretched ; 
westwaidlj, one tier of mountains after 
another, Talleye, oUons and creeks, be- 
come lower and lower until tbej reach 
the great plain of the Sacramento. 

On the other side of the mountuns, to 
the eastward. Feather River wound it* 
course through Lassen's Meadows, across 
which we bod just made our waj. Still 
fiirtber to the eastward, towardn Utah, 
beautiful lakes laj like bright meadows, 
far in the distance. Looking tothe north- 
ward, jou beheld proud Mount Shasta 
in solemn kinglj grandeur, at the head 
of the Sacramento Vallej, and from 
whence that riTer take* its rise, looming 
ap and piercing the heaTens with its bold 
summit, while clouds resting below, slept 
here and there, and all appeared ailent 
and beautiful Oh, what a Tision lay 
spread out arouod me in ererj direotioa. 



302 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



I love nature always, but especiallj 
when in her noblest and simplest gran- 
deur. The eye will turn and turn again 
to that wondrous mountain, whose peak 
is resting so clear, and pure, and cold, 
against the blue heavens. There it has 
stood for centuries, towering in the heav- 
ens, with its hoary helmet on, looking 
down on the winding line of mountains 
and rivers that glitter like a silver chain. 
I gazed in silent rapture upon it, drink- 
ing in the beauty and strangeness of the 
scene, until I was lost in wonder and ad- 
miration. Nothing I ever saw, in point 
of scenery, so delighted me as a view 
from this peak, so gloriously beautiful, 
vnth dense masses of mist here and there 
obscuring the view, but giving an effect 
of softness and distance. Mountain heights 
in varied forms are grouped in the happiest 
and most capricious humor, now sweeping 
along in graceful outlines, duntily crossing 
each other's path, or meeting in cordial em- 
brace— there, gathered in generous riv- 
alry, and then breaking away sullenly in 
abrupt terminations and frowning preci- 
pices. All is Alpine variety, intricacy, 
surprise, and confusion : while the beau- 
tiful -panoramic view commanded a vast 
assemblage of ridges and precipices, va- 
ried in every characteristic— the large in 
opposition to the small, the barren in 
contrast with the wooded; the formal and 
the eccentric, the horizontal and the per- 
pendicular. 

How grand are these old mountain 
heights, with their rocky brows bound 
with clouds, and their summits capped 
with the snows of winter. How beauti- 
ful the heavens, bright and blue, smiling 
on the luxurious forest with its sheen of 
light. How invigorating the air, pure 
and fVesh, and which inspired an inde- 
pendence, a love, a mental and physical 
vigor, which braced ev^ry energy of body 
and soul. 



TO ONE I LOVE. 



BT 8. B. DBTDIH. 



I miss thee, dear one ; the path of my life 

From thine has been severed for years, 
And the scenes of the past, with sorrowfol 
strife, 

' Have been wet with our separate tears ; 
For we weep not together, now, as wt wept 

When we lived in our own quiet hone ; 
I think of the arms which around me have 
crept, * [mine own. 

And the tears which have joined with 

I miss thee, dear one ; thine image, to me, 

Is drawn on a shadowless scroll \ 
It is hid in my heart, and naught can erase 

The treasure away from my soul, [brow 
Is the smile on thy lip, and the light on thj 

As sweet and as bright as before ? [now, 
It may be thy heart has seen sorrow, e'er 

And thy brow is overshadowed with care. 

I miss thee, dear one, when the daylight 
grows dim, 
And the stars light their lamps in the skj; 
How sadly my heart sings its sweet twilight 
As memory's visions float by. [hymn, 
I think of thee then, for the shadows grow 
less, [dajt 

Which have been in my heart thro' the 
And I sigh for thy presence my spirit to 
bless, 
As the dove mourns her lost one away. 

I miss thee, dear one ; Oh I when do I not 

Miss thy voice, which was music to me ? 
And a presence of love seems to gladden 
the spot 

Where I fancy thy footsteps may be. 
And I wander in spirit o'er mountains and 

To the places so dear to me yet ; [seas, 
I g%ze on thy sweet face and listen again 

To that voice which I cannot forget. 

I may miss thee, dear one, for years yet to 
come. 
And this heart may be lonely indeed, 
But T\\ think of that home beyond the 

fiir skies, 
Where the stricken in heart will be healed. 



MEN AND WOMEN. 



303 



Yet, thon wilt be mine in those regions of 
So free from all sorrow and care; [light, 

For Heaven will bless with a purer delight 
Tbo love which is sanctified here. 

MEN AND WOMEN. 



BT A. B. KIMBALL. 



To dwell Upon the proper duties of the 
diiWent members of the human family, 
is an employment which can neyer do 
harm to any, who bring to the task a 
mind which seeks to find, not to distort, 
the tnitb. Not, as some hare weakly en- 
dearored to show, that we think the 
sexeis mathematically speaking, are not 
only equivalent bat eqaal — that is, have 
exactly the same rights and powers, in 
the same degree ; or, as others have held, 
tliat women have no rights, nor any ca- 1 for it requires so much self denial to 



common i» the expression, " Whatever I 
am, I owe to my mother." Woman 
moulds the minds that rule the world. 
In doing this, she fulfills her destiny, as 
a helpmate for man, but she does not 
usurp his place. 

Man's influence on the affairs of the 
world is, of course, not less, but it is more 
generally acknowledged, because more 
apparent, and commands more strength 
to vindicate it It is his to produce great 
changes which, like the mighty convul- 
sions of nature, astound and destroy in 
the present, to bring forth a glorious har- 
vest of mighty results in the future. 
Woman, in a capacity no less necessary, 
beautifies all, like the light and rain of 
Heaven. There is little danger that any 
person will over-estimate man's influence. 



padty for any, except to keep the place 
which the self-etyled " lords (rf* creation" 
msy be pleased to assign them. To 
speak the words ''Woman's Rights," in 
this age, instantly brings to mind the 
monstrosity of "Women's Rights Gon^ 
ventions," and brands any female who 
dares believe in such a thing, as a disci- 
ple of Mrs. Lucy Stone. Notwithstand- 
ing all the controversy about the matter, 
woman does have rights I But they are 
thoee which belong properly to her, and 
not to man. Her place is not at the polls, 
nor in the halls of legislation ; and these 
are the last places in which she should 
desire to figure. Hor's is a more power- 
ful weapon than is wielded there, if she 
hoi mmke the proper use of it If she is 
earefel to exert her power judiciously, 
she can have a moral influence over her 
friends that will tell more effectually on 
the prosperity of the country than if she 
had an equnl chance with man in the 
administration of government J. Q. 
Adams thinks that woman's influence 
has never been over-rated ; and in read- 
ing the lives of the good and great, we 
are indined to agree vrith him. How 



make the proper use of what one really 
has. It is an awful thought for any one 
to contemplate, that his influence will 

** Lire throQgii all Ulb— extend ttirongh all extent, 
apmnd ondlvkied, operate nnipeot.** 

But it would be vastly better for human- 
ity if people had as much egotism on this 
subject as they have on others. 

There are many faults which the world 
seems to charge almost exclusively to 
woman, but which in fact are common to 
both sexes. Vanity, for instance, un- 
mindful of man's lofty intellect, often 
creeps in and shows its effects quito 
plainly. It will make him as careful 
about the fit of his apparel, and the trim- 
ming of his invaluable moustache, as any 
lady is of similar trifles. Flattery, too, 
often affecto the strongest of the stronger 
sex. But worse than all, some men do 
really follow fashion, that tyrant who 
bids us do all sorto of foolish things, and 
we obey ; thinking all the time that we 
are acting in the most sensible manner 
possible. They don't wear short waisted 
ooate, when she says long ; nor long, when 
she says short If she says wear stend- 
ing collars^ they do it, no matter what 



304 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



the effect upon the ears; if she orders 
them turned down, it is done, regardless 
of long necks. True, they do not gen- 
erally follow to all lengths, as many 
ladies do. Few men make it their chief 
end to shine in the fashionable world, 
because society tells them that such an 
ambition shows weakness ; but whether 
they substitute a more innocent aim is 
yet an open question. 

There are so few employments that the 
laws of society allow to women, that 
many are idle who would gladly be busy. 
But if she undertakes anything new, no 
matter how light the task, immediately 
there is great alarm felt, lest she should 
depart from her sphere. Where the err- 
ing creature would wander in that case, 
nobody knows ; but poor, friendless man 
is left free to rove through the universe 
of employments : cooking, sewing, wash- 
ing, and dealing in fancy dry eoods in- 
cluded, with ** not a generous friend, a 
pityinj^ foe," to tell him that he is far 
from his native element. Just take the 
case of a strong, able bodied man stand- 
ing behind the counter and studying the 
(quality of laces, ribbons, etc., and wast- 
ing his eloquence, that might be em- 
ployed for the good of his country, in 
expatiating in the sweetest and softest of 
tones upon their fineness, to his lady cus- 
tomers. Would not any thinking person 
say that it was a position much better 
suited to the tastes and capacities of the 
V)eaker sex? But it is objected, that 
women do not like to trade with women. 
This being the case, think ye, husbands 
and fathers would object to the change ? 
There is work enough to be done in the 
world to employ every human being in 
it. If those who find time hanging heav- 
ily on their hands should seek to use it, 
instead of killing it, by running into fully 
or vice, they might become blessings to 
the world instead of curses. Let those 
of us who expect soon to enter upon the 
duties of active life, remember that it will 
be of great assistance in keeping the heart 
pure, and driving sorrow from our doors, 
tor — 

Ttme well employed la flatas*8 deadliest foe- 
It learet no openlog for the larking flend. 

Oh I that all of us might honor the 
school which has done so much for our 
education, by becoming true Christian 
men and women. And that in future 
years our teachers may have the pleasure 
of saying, '* The life of every member of 
that class does me honor.'' 



"WHEN I WAS A CHILD." 



BY G. T. 8. 



" When I was a child,'' — and away go 

the thoughts back to the green fields, 

and sunny hills, and waving meadows, 

in that far country of the Past, where 

the flowers ever bloom, and the birds 

sing, and the summer lasts all the year 

long. And what heart does not love to 

lie down, at times, by the still waters of 
his childhood, and hear the music of the 
birds, and the sinking of the summer 
winds through the Tow brook willows — 
and all the sweet, soul-stirring melodies 
of that pleasant land ? 

" When I was a child," — and away up 
the valley are sounding sweet voices, and 
merry laughter, as away over the years 
Memory takes the wings of the morning 
and flies to one spot, ever fresh and 
blooming, like another Eden. Oh I bless- 
ed be God for that spot ! It is the only 
one left bright and changeless, on all the 
green earth, since our father and mother 
went weepine out of Paradise. There, 
up throu{;h the mist, rises an old gray 
house, withjits sloping roof, and juttine 
eaves, and mossy seats at the door. And 
all through that place are singing the 
old, familiar voices, and kind faces are 
beaming, and among them is one — "nev- 
er seen out once, and to be remembered 
forever." 

And there are walks in the summer 
woods, and rambles in the meadows, by 
the brooks, and in the old orchards, and 
by the side of the rivers ; and sailing on 
the summer lake, which lay spread be- 
neath us, like another heaven ; and 
bright Sabbath mornings, and Thanks- 
giving evenings, and widks by moonlight 
beneath the burning stars. 

Then, there was spring, with its green, 
fresh ^rass, its banks of violets, and its 
blooming orchards; and summer, with 
its hay-makings, and strawberry gather- 
ings, and cherry rides in the morninj^; 
and autumn, with its huskings, and fruit 
gatherings, and changing woods, and 
clear, frosty nights ; and winter, with its 
sleigh rides, and sled rides down hill, and 

foing to school at the old red school 
ouse. 

All this eomes looming up, and writes 
its daguerreotype on the heart, whenever 
I utter these few simple words : '* When 
I was a child." 



AGN£S £>IERSON. 



305 



THE SLEEPER ON THE MOUNTAINS. 



BY O. T. 8PR0AT. 



Alore— tfaoQ sleep'fit alone! 

At>oTe thy ashes cold 
The holy stars look mildly down, 

The mountain mists are rolled, 
And the night winds sing thy dirge, 

In wailings, sad and deep, 
Or, swelling to a thunder tone, 

Through the solemn forests sweep 1 

Alone— thoa sleep'st nione I 

Wo ! wo, to them who wait 
And watch at eventide for thee, 

At the lonely cottage gate. 
Thy mother looketh out 

Acroea the misty sea, 
Crying, ohi come to thy childhood's home? 

Wand'rer, return to me I 



Aione-^thou sleep'st alone ! 

No winds that round thee sweep, 
Sot rattling thunder's loudest tone, 

Can break thy long tranced sleep ! 
But, when the trump shall sound. 

And heaven and earth shall flee, 
An«e, thou sleeper, from thy grave !• 

Thy loved ones wait for thee ! 

— - - — * 

AGNES EMERSON. 
A Tale of the Revolnium. 



BY GORDON GREENLAW. 



rfOCH nSST.— THE AMERICAN RKVOLUTION. 



(Continued from page 26C.] 



CBAPTER VI. 

Which touches on Enmity, K^^itraliiy, and 
Fricftdship, 

**Rope, like ft glimneriDK Uper't light, 

Adoroe and cheers the way, 
And attU, m» darker frrows the night, 

EbKi a brighter ray."— Qolommith. 

The following morning Harrison re- 
ni'ved his baggage at an early hour to 
♦ \ipi Hartley's quarters, until he could 
\ ^ settled in thof^e to which he might be 
oniered by bis new c<jmmander. 



He found on arrival two cases which 
had been that morning landed from the 
Sea- Gull, They contained the complete 
cavalry uniforms and outfit for a lieuten- 
ant in the 7 th Light Dragoons. They 
had been sent by his liondon tailor in con- 
sequence of instructions from his brother 
at home. 

Attiring himself in an undress suit he 
proceeded to the Adj^utant's quarters, and 
was taken by him and presented to his 
Colonel, who, as the reader knows, had 
been acquainted with him from earliest 
childhood. 

Military etiquette must be observed, 
but sometimes it looks marvellously like 
humbug. 

After this they called on the second in 
command. Major Williams. 

Here Harrison was treated not only 
with coldness, but with a rudeness border- 
ing upon insult. 

*'He is a great admirer of Thynne's, and 
so are some of the others. I fear you will 
have to suifer a good deal of this sort of 
thing for 9 time," said adjutant Brown, as 
they left the houfie. 

It was not so bad, however, as that ofii- 
cer anticipated. Though coldly enough 
received by some, Ftiil it was with polite- 
ness; for these officers, unlike Williams, 
were gentlemen; though from their friend- 
ship with Lord Edward Thynne, they did 
not affect a cordiality they did not feel ; 
they were at heart courteous. 

*• Well, Hartley, that's well over — better 
than I expected," said George, upon his 
return ; " and now I will off and see as 
many of our officers as I can, settle with the 
pay master and quarter ma^vter, and after 
that you will, 1 know, accompany me to 
call at Sir H. Clinton's, the brigade ma- 
jor's. Major Andre's, and our brigadier's.'' 
"No," Said Hartley, "Sir H.Clinton may 
say that to you which he would desire to be 
private, but to the rest I will ; — we dine 
though at mess, so go to the commander- 
in-chief before you come back for me." 



ao6 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



Sir Henry Clinton evidently desired to 
see our hero, not to seek to glean informa- 
tion as to Emerson's movements from the 
invalid inmate of a hospitable house, for 
it is vfell known he possessed the yery 
nicest sense of honor ; but because he de- 
sired to give him some plain but perhaps 
not very palatable advice. 

"Mr. Ilarrison/' said the veteran after 
dispatching his secretary on a commis- 
sion from the room, "I wish to speak to 
you as a friend, as a friend of your fath- 
er's and brother's. I wish to advise you 
to drop your great intimacy with Mr. 
William Emerson, for it may compromise 
you fearfully as things go. I am well 
aware that the great kindness shown you 
by an old school-mate, and personally I 
have no doubt a worthy man, renders this 
a hard as well as a delicate matter, but 
when I tell you confidentially that he is 
undoubtedly engaged in some scheme an- 
tagonistic to the royal cause, you must 
see that in the event of a discovery, your 
intimacy and constant association with 
him would most certainly bring your loy- 
alty in doubt. Your name has already 
been lightly mentioned in connection with 
this subject — need I say more, to an offi- 
cer holding His Majesty's commission?" 

" Your excellency must surely be mis- 
informed. I bave never seen even enough 
of energy in Emerson to make such a 
thing possible, not to say probable; — his 
father's principles too, and William's 
great respect for him, would make him in 
any case neutral." 

*' There can be little or no honest neu- 
trality, Mr. Harrison, in a war of this 
kind," suid Sir Henry, emphatically. "A 
man in the true sense of the word must 
take one side or the other ; — if he have 
any character at all he must defend the 
one ho adopts, whether it be the rights of 
his majesty (God bless him) or what he 
considers the rights of the land of his 
birth. If he do neither he is simply con- 
temptible. Old Mr. Emerson is but luke- 



warm, in fact I find now he is little of a 
loyalist at all, and he may have the only 
excuse a man can have for neutrality, 
namely : his convictions being in favor of 
independence, while his early associations 
and services prevent him from contend- 
ing with a King whose hand has for fifty 
years contributed for his support. As 
for William Emerson — still water runs 
deep — he has determined for the side 
of the Colonists. I have seen it over 
his own signature. He has contributed 
largely from his own means to Congress. 
I honor him for it more than for dream- 
ing away his time in uncertainty ; still it 
is my duty to try and counteract his 
schemes. Remember this conversation 
is private, and remember my advice." 

George having paid the other visits with 
Hartley, presented himself for the first 
time in New York at the mess-table of his 
old regiment. It was quite cheering to him 
to find himself among those whom he had 
found to be fast friends, and who, whilst 
they congratulated him upon his promo- 
tion, appeared all to regret his removal 
from their midst. 

At dessert, the regimental order book 
of his new corps was brought to him for 
the first time, and he observed that he 
was appointed to the 5 th troop, comman- 
ded by Capt. Donald Campbell. 

** I am glad you are appointed to bis 
troop," cried Hartley, "he is the finest 
fellow in the 7th, always excepting the 
Colonel. The saying, there is a silver lin- 
ing to every cloud, is sometimes true, you 



see." 

The morning following, mindful of Col. 
Hyslop's instructions, George was at that 
officer's quarters at eight o'clock. 

" I understand, Mr. Harrison, that you 
are perfect in the cavalry drill — is this 
so— and how is it ? " 

"When in the neighborhood of London 
for some months, Colonel," answered 
Harrison, " I attended the riding school 
of the 11th Light Dragoons, of which my 



AGNES EMERSON. 



307 



brother was then M^jor, and as I hoped 
for a oommissioD io it, I was allowed to 
drill as a Tolanteer. Afterwards, sir, my 
father oould only lodge the cash for an 
infantry commission, and so I bad to aban- 
don my hopes of cavalry service for a 
time.'' 

" I am very glad to hear it," replied 
Col. Hyslop, " for we are short of officers, 
and also because if you are perfect in 
drill, I shall send you away to-morrow 
with Capt Campbell to escort officers who 
are to be exchanged at some place far 
aboTe the White Plains ; on your return 
Tour troop will relieve one which is sta- 
tioned near our outposts. I think absence 
from head-quarters for a time would be 
advisable for you, until excited feelings 
blow over. I have therefore appointed 
yoa to Campbell's troop, which is next for 
detachment duty. As we parade at ten 
o'clock you will take your station, and af- 
ter a sharp drill exercise I will judge 
whether I can in your case, and contrary 
to custom, dispense with an adjutant's 
drilL Take that book, you have a good 
hour and more to spare, and study the 
12th, 16th, and 17th sections of cavalry 
manoeuvres. I have ordered a troop 
burse for you which is well trained, until 
yoa are sailed with chargers ; he will be 
at Capt. Hartley's soon after half-past 
nine. Now be off and make the most of 
y ior hoar." 

It was with a joyful face that Harrison, 
after performing his part in the subse- 
quent parade to the satisfaction of both 
culooal and adjutant, hastened to call 
apoo Agnes. 

He had ascertained that Emerson was 
out ; not particularly desiring to see him 
after his own request to the contrary, and 
which, coupled with the words of Sir H. 
Clinton, began to engender the fear that 
his old school -fellow was really engaged 
ia something which involved risk. 

Agnes was in a very pensive mood when 
he entered. "Oh I George, this will be 



our last meeting for long, perhaps forev- 
er," she sobbed — "read this — there is one, 
too, marked " on service " for William." 

" Sir Henry Clinton presents his com- 
pliments to Miss Emerson, and has the 
pleasure to inform her that a detachment 
of the 7th Light Cavalry proceeds to-mor- 
row, at 9 A. M., to escort officers for ex- 
change to the continental lines in the 
neighborhood of Fishkill. Instructions 
have been given for the safe conduct of 
Miss Emerson to such place as she may 
desire, not exceeding eight miles from 
the line of march already proposed, as 
requested by her brother, who had better 
communicate with Capt. Campbell com- 
mandingthe detachment. 

** Sir Henry sends the earliest intima- 
tion, to enable Miss Emerson to make 
her preparations, and he hopes she may 
find her father in better health than Mr. 
Emerson represents. 

" New York, 29th Sept, 1778." 

The happiness of Agnes, when she 
found her lover was to form one of her 
escort, was of course great ** And if, 
George, we find my father has arrived, 
William will introduce you, for /could 

not do it well ^and...and you will try 

to please the old man for my sake» and... 
be first to tell him of our attachment" 

" How can William introduce me, ex- 
cept by letter ?" said Harrison ; " rather 
a roundabout way, when you will be np- 
on the spot?" 

" 1 William has decided to go with 
me," said Agnes. "Why, what's the 
matter 7^-does not that please you ?" 

"0, yes, dearest," stammered Harri- 
son, " I shall be very glad indeed if he 
goes with us." 

**I/he goes — if he goes t Dear, dear 
George, what if can there be about it 7 
Surely, no objection can be made to a 
civilian and non-eombatant going to a 
sick parent?" 

G^rge was in an unpleasant position. 
He felt sure Emerson would not be al- 
lowed to join the party, but to hint this 
to Agnes would be a breach of oonfidenoe, 
probably of honor. The sadden entranoe 



308 



nCTCHIKGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



of Emerson therefore greatly relieTed 
him. 



CHAFTBR TI. 

Interrupted Arrangements. — An Enemy, 

** Who tteftlB mj pnrsc fteals trash ; tli ■ometbiog, 

nothing ; 
*Twaa mine, *tit hie, and hat been tlaTe to thonsandB; 
Bnt he who filches from me my good name 
Robs me of that which not enriches Um, 
And makes me poor Indeed.'* SnAKBPSAXS. 

After a word with Harrison, Emerson 
took up the dispatch from Sir H. Clinton, 
and having read it with evident annoy- 
ance, handed it to Harrison, who at his 
desire read it aloud. It was as follows : 

Headquarters, ) 
New York, 29<A Sept, 1778. J 

Sir, — I am directed by the general 
commanding-in-chief to acknowledge the 
receipt of your letter of this date, and in 
reply to inform you that he will be hap- 
py to afford Miss Emerson the protection 
of the British escort proceeding to the 
Continental lines, which leaves the brig- 
ade major's office at 9 A. M. to-morrow, 
and which will call as it passes your 
house, for the accommodation of the lady. 

Sir H. Clinton desires me further to 
say, tli|it in consequence of information 
which he has received, he regrets ex- 
tremely that he cannot permit you at 
present to leave New York. 

If to-morrow morning you will give 
your parole of honor not to leave the city 
without his permission, you will remain 
unmolested ; but in case of your declin- 
ing to do this, you will be placed under 
closer surveillance than you are now, and 
under which you have been for some days 
past. 

Sir H. Clinton will be ready to receive 
you from ten to eleven in the forenoon. 
I have the honor to be. 

Sir, your most ob'dt serv't, 
Miles Attwood, (Major) 

A. D. C. 

*' I know now," said Emerson, " why 
I have been so closely watched and fol- 
lowed the last week. It is nothing more 
than I expected ; but my mind has been 
made up for some time — I will be neutral 
no longer. Shame on me for my indecis- 
ion I but God knows it was only the fear 



of involving my father that prevented 
my acting sooner — and not knowing how 
to dispose of Agnea. Harrison, you must 
go. I wish to consult with my sister, 
and what I say must not meet the ear of 
a royalist officer. I will be ont to-night, 
when you can bid Agnes good-bye." 

'* There is no occasion for you to be 
out," said Agnes ; " I cannot spare you, 
and I shall be too busy packing to see 
George. He is one of the escort, so we 
can say good-bye at our leisure." 

Descending to the door, Emerson ex- 
torted from Harrison a solemn pledge not 
to accept any further promises from Ag- 
nes until her father's will should be 
known. He was very earnest in his 
manner, and stood with the frontdoor 
open, when having obtained the promise, 
he grasped Harrison's hand fervently, 
saying — " I knew I could depend upon 
you, and I do rely on you. Farewell 1" 

As George emerged from the porch, he 
saw a cavalry officer slowly riding past, 
whose sinister face betokened both malice 
and gratulation. 

Harrison had yet another ordeal to 
pass through. He was to make his first 
appearance at his new mess that evening, 
and from thvi he knew that he must not 
shrink. As dinner hour approached, he 
felt a little nervous at the coolness he was 
confident would be exliibited by the bro- 
ther officers of Lord Edward Thynne ; 
the more so, as Capt. Hartley had warn- 
ed him that Williams was everywhere 
speaking in cautious but most disparag- 
ing terms of him. 

Near the mess-room door he met Capt 
Campbell, who, taking his arm, ascended 
the steps with him. 

" Why, Campbell," cried a young lieu- 
tenant, '* this is indeed a wonder. The 
only officer of the regiment who has a 
wife in New York, leaving her, the night 
before parting, to join us I " 

" Why, the fact is, gentlemen, I thought 
it but right to meet my new subaltern 



i 



AGNES EMERSON. 



300 



here ai his first dinner, lest any little 
acerbitj of feeling, arising from late 
aTents, and foreign to your natural gen- 
eroeity, might prevent your receiving him 
aa kindly as you otherwise would;" — and 
so saying, CampbeH entered the room, 
still holding George by the arm. 

The effect of this speech was most 
gratifying, for the speaker was much be- 
loved and had great influence, and nearly 
every officer advanced and cordially wel- 
comed Harrison to the mess. The colo- 
nel not being there, the major was the 
•enior officer present, and he held himself 
entirely aloof from our hero. 

The conversation during dinner turned 
upon the march before Campbell and his 
detachment, and its probable dangers. 

^ There is but little chance of a brush," 
•aid he, '* unless it be with some of those 
raaeally Skinners whom the rebels em- 
ploy. To all others our errand renders 
OS noo-eombatants ; but in such a case I 
have every reliance on the valuable as- 
•iataiice of Lieutenant Harrison." 

** Humph I " sarcastically interrupted 
Major Williams. "Well, now, I heard 
to-day a known and marked rebel express 
th^ very same opinion (privately, as he 
thoQght,) to Lieutenant Harrison him- 
self. He is fortunate to be relied upon by 
buth parties." 

**I quite agree with you. Major," re- 
joined Campbell, with great urbanity ; 
it ia really fortunate to command the es- 
teem of both friends and brave honora- 
ble enemies. Sometimes," he added, 
more slowly, '* a man is not to be depend- 
ed upon eren by his friends." 

The Major reddened ; possibly the cap 
fitted. *' Very true," said he, "and the 
safest plan is to rely upon no one, but to 
depend upon one's self, as my father used 
U> say." 

'*Why, I understood from you. Major, 
that you lost your father when yon were 
qoiie an infant ?" 

"Well, sir," angrily responded the 



Major, " my brother heard him say so, 
often ; it does not matter precisely whom 
he said it to." 

"Certainly not. Major," quietly re- 
sumed Campbell. " It must be a mistake 
of mine, but I had thought you were an 
only child." 

" Of my mother, yes," said the Mi\jor, 
commanding himself by an effort, " but 
of my father, no. My father was no 
sMut, sir, and was perhaps father to more 
offspring than that of his wife." 

" Very probably," dryly replied Chmp- 
bell, thinking he had gone far enough to 
show the Migor that any attack on his 
young friend might induce him again to 
take up cudgels in bis behalf. 

Pleading the necessity of finishing 
their preparations for the morning, Har- 
rison and hb captain left the mess-room 
early. George took his way through the 
lane at the back of Emerson's house, be- 
ing a nearer cut to Hartley's quarters. 
To his surprise he came suddenly and 
unperceived upon the negro Sam, lifting 
up a heavy branch of shade tree, from 
which but few leaves had yet fallen, and 
which had evidently been recently out 
from the parent stem, as it overhung Em- 
erson's wall. Crossing the lane with his 
burden, he entered the inclosure of one 
of those tenements before mentioned, and 
which was occupied^ by a boat*builder 
and shipwright. 

He had not proceeded twenty paoes 
further, when he met William Emerson 
himself, who was visibly annoyed and 
disconcerted at the rencontre. Recover- 
ing himself, he retraced his stops so as to 
walk with George, and asked him how 
he had been received at rae.«s. 

George related the particulars in a few 
words, and, of course, the conduct of 
Miyor f/illiams. In return he received 
from Emerson some sound advice how to 
avoid coming in collision with that wor- 
thy. Arriving at the end of the lane, at 
parting, he concluded the admoniiioo 



310 



HUTCniNGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



with — ** Remember, with such a canning 
rascal as I believe the major to be, we can 
never be too careful." 

As if everything conspired against 
George, in stepping into the moonlight 
from the shadow of the wall, he nearly 
ran against an officer about to cross the 
end of the lane. 

" I beg your pardon, sir," said he, po- 
litely. 

"Certainly," answered the other, "but 
you soon forget your friend's remark, that 
of me you can never be too careful I" 

It was Major Williams I 

CHAPTER YIII. 

Plotting a ruin. 

** *Tl8 here, but yet oonfased ; 

Knavery's plain face 1b never seen 'till used." 

[Sbakxspbabb. 

Upon a camp-bed, his face swathed in 
a multitude of bandages secured secun- 
dem artem, and his head and shoulders 
supported by numerous pillows, laid Lord 
Edward Thynne. Conveniently placed 
close to the bed, w^as a small table with 
shortened legs, upon which was a slate 
and pencil. By this means he was ena- 
bled to bold intercourse with those around 
him. Now, however, the only person 
present was Major Williams, who sat be- 
side him speaking in a low tone of voice, 
or reading his lordship's writing upon 
the slate, and occasionally rubbing it out 
with a sponge which he held in his hand. 
In this manner the conversation, if such 
it can be called, was maintained between 
them. 

"On your action in this matter," wrote 
his lordship, "depends my further con- 
duct to you. I have saved your commis- 
sion once, I have advanced you sums up- 
on sums to pay your gambling debts, and 
though you did nq/L know it, I was the 
means of obtaining for you your msyori- 
ty in the regiment, which otherwise you 
would not for years have obtained by ser- 
vice — fail me in this and I cease to be 
your friend." 



"Your lordship," said Williams, "has 
been indeed a constant friend, and the 
cause has, to own truth, often been a puz- 
zle to me. If then, I can possibly fulfil 
your wishes, you know you may rely on 
my doing so." * 

" Possible or impossible, you must do 
it ; here am I, disfigured, most probably 
for life, by this boy — ^ruin him, disgrace 
him, court-martial him on any charge you 
choose, so you but ruin his future, and I 
am content ; surely your wit can betray 
one of Harrison's impetuous, fiery tem- 
per, into some unpardonable breach of 
military discipline. Look here, Mf^or! 
we are alone, and I will let you in to a se- 
cret. I know more of your antecedents 
than you do yourself. I know all about 
you from your very cradle up to this hoar. 
You say my friendship puzzles you ; well 
it may. — ^You cannot suppose that in three 
years £4,000 has been advanced by me 
to purchase your last promotion, and sup- 
port your gambling. With my own 
means I could not have supplied a third 
of that sum. To be plain with you, I 
am your father's confidant, — he has sup- 
plied me with the money ; on my report 
depends his further assistance ; one word 
from me puts a stop to the exercise of in- 
terest ill your behalf at home, as well as 
to the pecuniary aid you occasionally re- 
ceive." 

" Tou know my father— oh ! my Lord, 
you are disposed to be facetious," replied 
Williams. " My father died when I was 
a perfect child. I never saw him to my 
remembrance." 

The patrician glanced at him sneering- 
ly, and having by means of his slate, com- 
municated to the Major what he was 
about to do, drew from beneath the cover- 
let a slip of paper containing a few lines, 
and which had been cut from a letter; on 
the one side he showed him his name on 
the address, and the London post-mark 
with date as proof of its genuineness. 
Reversing it, but still holding it fast in 



AGNES EMERSON. 



311 



his own hands, he permitted him to read 
ae follows;- 

"I am glad yon say that the reports 
detrimental to the character of Williams 
have but little foundadon in trath. I 
promised his mother faithfallj that I 
would see to his interests, but should I 
find that such aid as I can render him 
through you is undeserved, I will con- 
tinue it no longer. I have lodged the 
money for his majority in his own name, 
and expect that he will be gazetted major 
of your regiment shortly. Few men 
would do as much for an illegitimate son. 
You can tell him that any further attempt 
to trace his supposed benefactor will pre- 
vent further assistance." 

naviniiC allowed the major to read this 
scrap. Lord Edward motioned him to be 
silent, and resuming the slate wrote : 
"After your mother's death, whose income 
latterly depended on her leading you to 
believe your father dead, you were 
brought up at the expense of an unknown 
friend. Tou were placed in the army ; 
yonr lieutenancy you got by a death va- 
cancy, but your oometoy, troop and ma- 
jority were all of them purchased for you. 
Toa attempted by means of spies, and 
by bribing a banker's clerk, to ascertain 
who your unknown benefactor was — 
yonr supplies were therefore stopped — 
yon got in debt — you gambled — reports 
injurious to your character were circula- 
ted. Three years ago your father wrote 
to me on the subject; what you have just 
read is a part of his second letter to me. 
More— to recover your fortunes you used 
loaded dice ; you were suspected, all but 
taxed with it. I was present, and I re- 
quested to look at them, when doubt was 
expressed. 1 changed them for a pair in 
my pocket, and then insisteJ on their be- 
ing split; unnoticed I gave you a word 
of encouragement. They were split, at 
least those I had substituted were, and 
yoor character was save!. Now I did 
not do all this for nothing ; I thought I 
might want your assistance some day — 
to be plain, I thought I might want a tool. 



so I did my best to make one, and for my 
own possible convenience, and not for 
any love to you, have I done what I have." 

For several minutes. Major Williams 
sat silent and motionless, with his face 
averted and concealed by his hand ; then 
rising, he crossed the room to where a 
cellaret stood ; opening it, he filled him- 
self nearly a full tumbler of brandy, and 
adding a little water, drank it off at a 
draught. For a fe^' minutes more he 
gazed out of the window ; then, return- 
ing to his seat, addressed Lord Edward, 
who had been watching him keenly the 
whole time. 

" My lord," said he, " after reflection 
I will say that I believe every word you 
have written, and there is that in it which 
grieves me. I have lost my love far the 
only human being for whom I ever had 
any. I too speak plainly ; your apparent 
kindness had aroused whatever there was 
of good in me— I thought I had one 
friend, the only one I had ever met in the 
wide world, I now find I was mistaken, 
and am weak enough to feel grieved at 
it. I am what circumstances, ill-train- 
ing, and associations have made me. Self- 
interest to a certain extent now binds me 
to you, and to the best of my power I 
will do your bidding— oa one condition^ 
namely, that yon tell me why and how I 
was led to believe that my father was a 
surgeon and dead ; who my mother to<w, 
and, under a pledge of secrecy, who my 
father i». A tool is but a tool, but it re- 
quires delicate handling, or it may break. 
Nay, hear me out — I am as self-willed as 
your lordship, and these are my only 
terms. If yon turn on me, you will only 
temporarily inconvenience me, for in such 
case I will so conduct myself as to give 
the lie to any assertions yon may make 
against me to my father. As for the 
dice story, any statement whatever about 
it would too much involve yourself, eith- 
er for yon to make it^ or for it to obtain 
credence." 



312 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



The decided manner in which the ma- 
jor spoke convinced Lord Edward that he 
was determined. His lordship was dis- 
appointed in his expectations ; he had re- 
lied on Williams as a pliant sycophant, 
who by self-interest could be moulded to 
his will ; he now saw that he had mis- 
judged the m%jor ; that in showing him- 
self in his true colors, he had lost his af- 
fection, arising from gratitude, and which 
affection had been his surest hold of him. 
But Lord Edward, knowing no love save 
for himself, had been unable hitherto to 
attribute the major's servility to him to 
aught bat interested motives. He now 
remembered that this very servility was 
contrary to Williams' usual disposition, 
which was haughty and discourteous even 
to those very high above him in authori- 
ty ; so that instead of strengthening his 
own position by his communication, he 
had actually destroyed the strongest 
foundation of the major's friendship. 

Having mused awhile, he had recourse 
to the slate, and replied thus: '*I agree 
to your terms, but I must have some se- 
curity that you will persevere in my pur- 
pose. I will now reply to all your ques- 
tions but one, and that is the last. When 
Harrison is under arrest for an offence 
which involves at the least cashiering, I 
will tell you who your father is, on the 
pledge of secrecy you mentioned. Do 
you agree to this ?" 

" Yes," replied the major. 

" Your father seduced your mother — 
she was a Miss Brown, a farmer's daugh- 
ter — ^you were the result. Your father 
was at this time a married man ; this she 
found out. Her father had discarded 
her, and she had no other near relation. 
Her seducer agreed that if a young sur* 
geon, a Mr. Williams, married her and 
adopted you, he would give her a dowry 
of £5000. Mr. Williams announced that 
he had been privately married for eight- 
een months ; you were then about eight 
months old. Your puMive father got ior 



fo a good practice through the patronage 
of friends of your real father, aided by 
his own ability, which was considerable. 
He died when you were five years old. 
It turned out that he had lived with a 
woman in Scotland, and had a son by 
her, before he had been acquainted with 
your mother; it also appeared that he 
had in Glasgow always called this woman 
his wife, which in Scottish law constitutes 
a marriage. She had, however, eloped 
from him with another, and he had never 
heard more of her. Some years after 
she saw the announcement of the death 
of Mr. John Lloyd Williams, surgeon, in 
the newspapers. She laid claim to his 
property for her son, and under the cii> 
cumstances I have told you of, she ob- 
tained it. Your mother was consequent- 
ly penniless, and your putative father a 
bigamist. Your own father made her an 
allowance for two years, when she died ; 
afterwards you were by your father's 
bankers, placed at school and provided 
for. You know the rest." 

Major Williams rose, and in a cold, 
steady voice, addressed Lord Edward. 
" My lord, I have no more to say. I will 
do my best to fulfil your wishes, in the 
case we have discussed, according to our 
compact, and report anything which tran- 
spires. Good day ; — and although I 
promise to do this, allow me to say that 
your knowledge of human nature does 
not equal your knowledge on other points. 
I had been the more earnestly desirous to 
aid you in this matter, had I retained my 
affection for yourself, than I now am from 
other motives, which, however strong, 
are, to say the least, humiliating." 

Immediately after the utterance of 
these words, the m(gor quitted the room, 
leaving the patient to his own refleo^ 
tions. 

[lb be ooniinuaL] 



CHRISTMAS MEMORIES. 313 



CHRISTMAS MEMORIES. 



Let Q8 talk. Sons of New England, of the good old Christmas times, 
When sleigh-bells on our northern hills rang out their merry chimes ; 
Let memory call up the tales to us in childhood told. 
And gather up the golden grains of friendships, true and old ; 
Thope northern hills — our native hills — are shrouded now in snow, 
But round the firesides of that land warm hearts are in a glow: 
No biting frosts, no wintry winds, no winter snows, can chill 
The hearts that loved us long ago, the hearts that love us still 1 
As the year brings back Thanksgiving and merry Chrbtmas mom, 
Our hearts go flocking homeward to the land where we were boml 

Bom 'mid tho^e granite mountains, walk you ever in your dreams 

On the hill-sides, in the valleys, by the rippling meadow streams ? 

Think you ever of the pastures in the pleasant summer hours. 

On the clover-scented hay fields after cool refreshing showers ? 

Dream you ever of the autumn, when the gorgeous forest lies 

A grand old northern painting, touched by lights of northern skies f 

Glide you ever like an arrow adown the snow-clad hills f 

Sweep you ever on the ice-fields, till each tingling fibre thrills? 

Think you ever of our comrades, bold, hardy, tough and stout. 

Who fought fierce snow-ball battles, when the pent-up school was out ? 

Dream you ever of the Yankee girls ? — I need not ask you this, 

Until your hearts are icicles, your lips forget to kiss. 

Tell not of dark-eyed maidens under burning tropic skies^ 

They charm us not like northern girls with blue and soul-lit eyes ; 

If the thrilling pulse of passion throbs not with a tropic heat. 

No purer hearts, no truer hearts, in love responsive beat ; 

Their souls are stainless as the hills white-robed in driven snow. 

Their lips the same as those we kissed at Christmas long ago ; 

The same heroic spirit have the Yankee girls to-day 

As their high-souled Pilgrim Mothers of Massachusetts Bay. 

Ring out the merry Christmas bells, and sing the songs we sung 
Round the firesides of New England in the days when we were young. 
When we gathered in the kitchen around the blaiing hearth — 
Father, mother, sister, brother— our hearts all wyt in mirth ; 
When our hearts were all Thanksgiving, and we worshiped Ood in truth. 
Contented with the priceless boon of home, and health, and youth. 
Ring out the joyful Christmas bells I — the same trae mother's prayer 
Ascends to heaven for us tonlay, as when when we bent low there. 
Ring out the bells, raise thanks to Ood, that memories of home 
Attend like angels on our steps wherever we may roam. 

Ood bless the rough old Granite Land, and Plymouth's se^-washadroek ; 
<2od bless all wandering ohildreo of the hardy Pilgrim stook. 



314 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



New EnglaDd's wealth lies treasured not in golden stream or glen, 

But in priceless souls of women, and the iron hearts of men; 

Our footsteps wander from her, but our pride is still to know 

We keep the free New England hearts she gave us years ago : 

Like the needle always turning to the polar star at sea, « 

We are ever drawn. New England, trembling, quivering, to thee I 

The ties that bind us unto thee, nor time nor space can sever — 

Our homes are on Pacific's strand. . . . our hearts are thine forever I 

g « « » « 



■ ^»» • 



MY GRANDMOTHER'S NOTIONS. 



Stay, gentle reader, any rising ridicule 
commonly suggested by the caption we 
have chosen. 

The soundest wisdom of age, is always 
slighted and scoffed at under some mis- 
nomer. For our part we could never 
have the heart to ridicule even the old 
grandmother's P's and Q's. From the 
earliest fun-loving days of our childhood 
up to the present hour, it has always been 
very painful to us to see any one prone 
to such impiety. The peculiarities of 
age have an inexpressible charm for us — 
doubtless some unique traits which go to 
make up a complete character in one in- 
dividual, would not befit another quite so 
well ; for the very obvious reason, that 
they would be neither original or natural. 

But if we had our way I that some 
good genii or demon would loan us his 
scissors one precious moment or so, that 
we might cut and clip right and left to 
our pattern 1 But oh, no ; we are not at 
all in earnest in this last aspiration of un- 
hallowed ambition ; indeed we are always 
sorry to see either the devil or the saints 
get the.scissors, and we don't wish them 
for fear we might misuse them. 

We neither look for nor desire to see 
our extreme modern phases of fashion in 
the representatives of a past age. All 
that we can uay is, that we love and ad- 
mire plain, sensible and tasteful modera- 
tion in all things. 



We cannot contend with Captain Cap- 
tious nor Mr. Fiddledee Fou about the ex- 
act hair line where the different colors 
begin and end, in the beautiful bow in 
the cloud ; we have ceased chasing such 
phantasms long since. Only show as 
the right sort of principles springing 
from a heart ruling in a region above 
mere conventionalities, and we scorn to 
carp : nevertheless we bid God speed to 
the best patterns. But even these will 
also appear quaint, to the next generation. 

Without a little of this quoer element, 
now and then, as the spice of life, who 
among us would enjoy with such a lively 
zest and pleasant play of good humor our 
ordinary social interchanges. Any quaint 
way of saying or doing a thing always 
clung with unusual tenacity to our mem- 
ory ; and the wisdom thus half disguised 
oflen passed into a proverb, and became 
a rule of life, which but for its queer 
dress would have been lost forever. 

" Would you believe it," said grand- 
mother to me the other day, ** here is the 
top of my frying-pan and the nose of mj 
stew-pan both stuck on the wrong side I 
Now do just think of it a moment? a hun- 
gry man is waiting, and we women folks 
are all in a hurry — we must needs set 
down our galley-pots and pans, and 
change hands in order to pour out any 
thing I What foolish people tinkers and 
foundry men must be 1 I wonder if they 
think people are all left-handed t Well, 
^ well) how can they be so stupid 1 But 



MY GRANDMOTHER'S NOTIONS. 



315 



perhftps here in California, where folks 
change trades so strangely — ^who knows 
now, but some sensible cook may turn 
tinner ; or some enterprising Stewart take 
to casting pots and pans for a liviug. 1 
it will all come around right one of these 
daTs, I'll venture I " 

Wonderfully hopeful, you discover; al- 
ways amiable, she's rather inclined to 
look upon the right side, as well as the 
bright side. 

To her many " wise saws and modem 
instances," she adds a great store-hou^e 
of medical samples. No trivial treasures 
are these in the eyes of the old matron, 
and we more than half incline to say she 
is backed in much of her belief by all the 
weight of mature talent and good sound 
sense of the whole Esculaptan fraternity. 
But all this apart, we will call in the doc- 
tors when she fails. 

With a little sweet oil, air and exercise, 
and now and then a dish of cracked 
wheat, and a cup of buttermilk — that 
l^>d old Dutch physic which kept the Yan- 
kee doctors out of practice so long, down 
there in New Amsterdam, and which, 
eren now, needs no recommeodation of 
ours south of Mason and Dixon's line — 
with these I say, and a seasoning of sen- 
•ihle advice, she helps all, if she does not 
alieolntely cure four- fifths ; and with the 
other little fifth, she has miracles of re- 
•toring mercies in her elder blossoms, 
sage, mint, and thyme teas, &c. Where 
«(»uld we doctors be, in the footing up of 
the great day of accounts, if it had'nt been 
for oor grandmothers? I very much 
doubt if we'd be in existence. As for 
the water remedy I why, she can use it 
in more ways than ever a duck dreamed 
of; in short, she attributes ten tot il years 
of her past life to water, and as many 
more to come ; and, besides all this, the 
beat part of the balance is some how or 
'>ther pretty clearly aquatic. She de- 
clares to this day, she does'nt believe 
•he'd sunrive a fortnight if twas'nt for 



water. You may know by this, that her 
very life is in neatness. 

We confess to some slight reluctanoe 
in detailing all her notions, useful as they 
may be; — but please, gentle reader, set 
the precedent over against the strong^ 
minded, and we will proceed. 

Grandmother, as before observed, sel- 
dom follows the fashions to the full, but 
although she's 70, and set in her way, 
she ia still prompt to perceive, and ready 
to adopt any real improvements ; strange 
to say, she contends stoutly in favor of 
bloomer dresses, and she never intends 
to give it up, to the day of her death. 
She gives so many sensible reasons, no 
one would presume to put up a plea in 
her presence, in favor of draggletail dree- 
ses. Suppose she does have pockets in 
her dresses in the old fashioned way : 
let me tell you her notion about it; not 
pockets in general, but her kind in par- 
ticular. When she makes a new dress 
she takes a portion of it for a pocket ; 
then if a spark from the open fire — I for- 
got to tell you that with all the economi- 
cal conveniences and facilities of modem 
stoves, her heart still lingers around the 
old open fire-place ; and she envies the 
miner in his cabin. **Stop I" says she, the 
other day; "read that over again ; did'nt 
the paper say something about a back- 
log? " — Then, as I was Faying, if a spark 
flies and bums a hole, or gets torn, just 
as apt as not, she cuts the pocket out, and 
there she finds the proper materials to 
mend her dre^^s with. 

Perhaps I ought to give you her notion 
about washing and drying a black dress 
without streaking it, as it surely would 
be if washed and dried in the usual 
way. She folds it in an old sheet, and 
rolls it up, letting itlie twenty-four hours; 
it comes out almost dried through, with 
a satiny gloss as good as new. The self- 
same principle she applies to her ribbons, 
yarns, and all bright colors; her notion 
is, they should always be wrung out in 



316 



HUTCHINGS* CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



another dry, white, clean cloth, for then 
the colors never flow or mix confusedly 
as when the common mode is adopted. 

" Green, let me consider/' Yes, some- 
body will bless the good old grandmoth- 
er's notion when they see how like a 
charm it saves the lustre of that ever 
pleasing color. She always dips her 
green cloths, or those in which the green 
color abounds, in alum water. 

Let those young ladies who have been 
in trouble on these points take a hint 
from her life-long experiences ; ** they are 
better than thy theories," as the old Qua- 
ker doctor said to the youug professor of 
physic. 

Such a vast field of the science of home 
life opens out before us, we know not 
where to conclude ; will not some of your 
female patrons take up the subject of 
dresses and give us a useful essay, one of 
these days. 

Grandmother had a great many kitch- 
en, pantry, and table notions, and among 
the rest, her particular Corned Beef uo- 
tions. 

What are they ? you ask. I am glad 
to see you becoming interested. 

We must premise a word. Modern 
city and village markets are convenient 
institutions — very. But grandmother, 
you must know, in the early part of her 
life, lived in the country, so you will ex- 
cuse her ; she cannot quite shake off the 
good old country habits ; and I'm really 
glad of it. She likes to superintend, I 
had almost said, every step from the stall 
to the table— it's one of her notions. 

We wiU suppose then a nice choice cut 
to be procured, under her eye, in the 
small domestic way. She abhors brine, 
and all such washy doings, fancying — 
very justly we think — that the sweet jui- 
ces are often lost thereby. She places 
the meat in a platter, or any low-edged 
dish ; takes salt, a little saltpetre and su- 
gar, and rubs it well in. This reminds 
at of some 3 year old hams we were treat- 



ed to away down in Alabama, — ^prepared 
in a good, careful way ; the first process 
of which was, as I have told you. Like 
good old wine 'twould make your mouth 
water to think of it, as it does our's now. 
Grandmother covers up everything, not 
air tight, to be sure, but as she says, "so 
as to keep in the sweet aroma ; " of course 
this is no exception to the rule. While 
penning this we have been trying to 
think of a table dish or article, as an ex- 
ception — have to give it up — not one- 
boiled meat, ham, vegetables, butter, 
cheese, Ac, Ac. with names to' fill a dic- 
tionary — it's all one to her. 

Stop 1 I take it back ; some things must 
not be closed up. I forgot to tell you a 
tale of romance in real life. When grand- 
mother was married and first began to 
reign queen of the domestic circle, an ao- 
cident happened to her, memorable in- 
deed, by reason of the peculiar circum- 
stances. 

The beautiful bride, (nature had done 
a great deal for her,) sweet dove of the 
Home Paradise I Lappy of heart and ra- 
diant with anticipations of delight in 
feasting her female and male friends who 
were to meet to congratulate her upon 
the greatest event in life, &c. — but not to 
dwell — suffice it to say : the young wife» 
as in duty bound, intended to do her best; 
or quietly speaking, disiinguisk herself. 
The prestige of a good name at the start, 
is everything in the battle of life — as im- 
portant, be it remembered, to a good oook, 
or a discreet housewife, as to a general. 
The grand climax of all great and good 
country dinners, upon which every eye 
was fixed in those thanksgiving days, was 
the huge Chicken Pie ; every thing else 
played second fiddle, or was next to no- 
where at all. So it was on grandmother's 
reception day. 

Uncle Isaac, her husband, was an awe- 
inspiring and very dignified personage — 
had been over to old England and heard 
Bow Bells ohime, and all that — could do 



MY GRANDMOTHER'S NOTIONS. 



317 



Ui6 honors of his table like an English 
sqoiro. When Isaao came down with 
the glistening knife upon that pie, silence 
and he alone reigned supreme I With 
the first hold incision, an unwonted smell 
came forth; some half-whistled as the 
table, contrary to good manners ; gladly 
would they have whittled a stick to keep 
from it, but they had none; meanwhile 
the ladies pinched their noses so sharply 
oat of shape, while their cheeks swelled 
into such babyish proportions that the 
scene put on a comical aspect ; finally one 
incontinent twitter burst, and broke a 
hole so big, that it let the whole out at 
once. Uncle Isaac still self-possessed, un- 
bent his dignity so far as to look around 
enquiringly of grandmother. She, poor 
▼ictim, red as a rose, and innocent as a 
Iamb, would have taken her oath on the 
Family Bible that cleaner, sweeter meat 
was never seen ! It was no use treating 
Ui6 matter seriously, now that the fun was 
up. It was naively, cruelly suggested 
that there must be something in it. 

This threw a great deal of light upon 
tbesabjeot. It was further insinuated 
ti«at somebody had played a trick ; but 
unfortunately there was no nnner about 
u> lay it to. 

The diamond dew-drops of the heart 
peeped forth and glistened in grandmoth- 
er's eyes — ^instantly the mirth was check- 
ed. But grandpa wasn't a bit like me, 
or he would have kissed her in such an 
extremity, without caring who knew it. 

Ever after this well-nigh tragic disas- 
ter, one Kas sure to see a supplement to 
her ehicken pies in the shape of an extra- 
ordinary big trap door ventilator, crown- 
ing the top. I, like an impertinent boy, 
as I was, must needs know the "why and 
wherefore," "and what the dickens, this 
or that was there for ; " otherwise per- 
haps posterity might never have been one 
whit the wiser for her woful expe- 
riences* 

Rarely have we felt called upon to apol- 



ogise for her dinners ; and never for the 
final dessert. 

She took the best papers and periodi- 
cals in the country, which were brought 
out, and served up a la mode ; then came 
the " feast of reason and the flow of soul" 
you read of. Each one, as occasion of- 
fered, reading out whatever pleased or in- 
terested them, without ever dreaming of 
interrupting any one ; and as all were in 
equal freedom, the variety was as charm- 
ing as the different tones in a choice musi- 
cal performance. 

It is always easy to glide with interest 
into the ruling current of thought and 
feeling, or tacitly retire with grace when 
no note of interest responds. 

A new broom is said to sweep clean ; 
but according to grandmother's notions it 
always kicked up such a dust over every- 
thing, that she seldom or never introduced 
one into her parlor, or finest carpeted 
rooms. She thought brooms very good 
helps in their way, but better suited to 
the kitchen and such like oommon-place 
purposses of life. 

She mopped her carpets. — "What 1 mop 
carpets ? 0, you must be joking." No, 
indeed, we are in downright earnest. 
Suppose you take grandmother's notion 
on trial before you unchurch a good chris- 
tian idea. 

Take a clean cloth, fixed for the pur- 
pose, and a bucket of water; wring it out 
well; and begin rolling and licking up 
the dust and dirt— change waters often, 
and when done, her word for it, a bright- 
er gloss never shone out of a new carpet 
If Providence has blest you with the cost- 
liest, richest, velvet carpets, so much the 
more need of the good old lady's ad- 
vice. 

Long years ago, when she lived in the 
country and looked after the dairy, she 
entertained her dairy notions too. 

Her churn went by water in the most 
approved style of the times ; but even 
this apparently perfected improvement 



318 



HUTCniNGS'. CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



was superseded and laid aside as tiseless, 
for good and sufficient reasons — 

*'Wbich we will state If 'tis your pleasure. 
Much more at large when more at leisure." K. 

SONG. 



Do the sunbeams still play as brightly, 

And the birds unto the lattice come — 
Do the footsteps still fall as lightly 
As they did when I dwelt in our home ? 
Chorus. 
Lonely shades are stealing round me, 
And I'm sad with a wearying pain, [ward, 
As my heart wanders homeward, home- 
Where my footsteps may never stray again. 

One will miss my voice in the hours, 
When the blooming May calls to the grove 

The gay child with garlands of flowers. 
And the youths with the legends of their 

love. 
Chobus — Lonely shades are stealing, &c. 

The loved ones will look for my coming. 
Till their eyes grow weary with their 
watch, [ing 

But the door where woodbines are bloom- 
Shall ne'er ope with my hand upon the 

latch. 
Chouus — Lonely shades are stealing, &c. 

[Continued from page 270.] 

THE TURNIP-COUNTEK. 

SECOND LEGEND. 



Translated from the German, 

BT p. F. JOHNSON. 



« < So be it,' he said, gloomily ; ' I shall 
brave the world again; I shall hurry and 
Rpeed, beg and steal, plan and act, to gain 
the prize thou deemest necessary to win 
thee. Until then we shall not meet.' In 
such a manner I treated poor Benedix; 
he went off in anger, his good genius left 
him, and he was tempted to commit an 
act at which his heart I know revolted.'' 

The respectable citizen shook his head 
on hearing this, and after a while thoughtr 
fully exclaimed — " This is remarkable 1 



But why," he added, " dost thou thus fill 
the forest with thy lamentations, without 
benefit to thyself or to thy lover T" 

" Kind sir," she responded, " I was on 
the road to Ilirchberg, when, nearly over- 
come by anguish, I took refuge under 
this tree." 

" And pray, what wouldst thou do in 
Hircbberg?" 

'' Kneel before the executioner; startle 
all the town with my pleading, and call 
on its daughters to join me in my suppli- 
cations. Perhaps the judges will deal 
mercifully, and spare the young man's 
life ; else I shall gladly die with him." 

The gnome in the height of his emo- 
tions forgot his revenge, and made it a 
point of gallantry to give back the youth 
to his distracted lover. 

'* Dry thy tears," said he, sympatbiz- 
ingly, "and give not thyself up to sorrow. 
Before another sun shall rise, thj sweet- 
heart will be free. Be awake to-morrow 
at the first cock-crow, listen for a finger 
knock at thy window, for Benedix will be 
asking and waiting for admittance. Be- 
ware that thy prudishness does not drive 
him to desperation in future. I may tell 
thee, besides, that he did not commit the 
crime of which he is accused; neither 
has thy wilfulness instigated him, as yet, 
to do wrong." 

This speech astonished the girl, and 
she looked long and earnestly in his face; 
but failing there to discover any signs of 
trifling humor, she gained confidence, and 
the clouds on her brow dispersed, as she 
said, between joy and hope: 

" If you scoff not at me, but speak the 
truth, you must be a prophet, or my 
Benedix's good genius, thus to know all 
beforehand." 

" His good genius I" exclaimed Turnip- 
Counter, somewhat astonished; "no — 
I am something less than that. Howev- 
er, I may become so— we shall see I I 
am a citizen of Hirchberg, and sat against 
him in judgment ; but his innocence has 



THE TURNIPS-COUNTER. 



319 



been proclaimed, therefore have no fear 
for his life. I go to strip his chains, be- 
cause I have great influence in town. 
Cheer np, and return home in peace." 
The damsel obeyed, although fear and 
hope kept her mind alternately on the 
rack. 

MeftDwhile the padre labored hard in 
preparing the culprit for the next world. 
Poor Benedix was an ignorant layman, 
and better versed in the use of the needle 
and scissors than the rosary. The ave 
and paitmotier with him were nothing, 
and the credo he knew only by name; 
neyertheless the zealous monk devoted 
himself for two days to the work of in- 
stmcting his pupil. Even then the poor 
tinner would season the formula with 
gr«)anfl« and such stray exclamations as — 
'*Ah! Clare! Clare !" and thus spoil the 
lesson. The religion of the pious father 
eaosed him to picture hell as a terribly 
hot place, and so lively was his descrip- 
tion of it, that he made the stray lamb of 
the flock throw off" streams of perspira- 
tion, and impressed him with the pros- 
pect in view to such an extent as fully to 
obliterate Clare from his memory. 

** Thy misdeeds, my son," the holy 
man argued, " are great ; yet do not de- 
spair — the flames of purgatory will puri- 
fy thee. It was fortunate after all, that 
thoo didst not harm an orthodox Chris- 
tian, as in such a case for thousands of 
years thou wouldst stand up to thy neck 
in a scathing sulphur-pit, as a just pun- 
L«hment for thy wickedness. However, 
as the robbery was only committed on a 
despicable Jew, thy soul becomes pure 
hke virgin gold in the space of a century, 
while the number of masses I shall read 
f »r its benefit will only require thee to 
wade girdle deep in ever-burning lava." 

Benedix, aware as he was of his inno- 
cence, nevertheless blindly believed in 
his confessor's binding and absolving 
power ; he did not count upon a rever- 
ason of judgment in the world to come, 



in spite of the " poor show " they had 
given him in this one. Yet he did what 
seemed to him the most practical act; he 
pleaded with his spiritual adviser for 
mercy so earnestly, and chaffered with 
him to sucl^ an extent, that at length a 
knee-deep immersion in the fire-bath was 
conceded him ; but there the negotiation 
ceased, without the abbreviation of an- 
other inch. 

The priest, wishing the delinquent a 
last good night, had just left the prison, 
when he came across Turnip-Counter, 
who this time had adopted the invisible 
style of clothing ; but he could not make 
up his mind as to the best manner of lib- 
erating the poor tailor, without spoiling 
for the judges their case in hand, for their 
prompt action in the matter had won his 
admiration. Now a thought struck him, 
exactly to his likiug. He followed the 
monk into the convent, borrowed a cowl 
out of its wardrobe, and tried the fit 
Thus disguised, he sought, as a father 
confessor, admittance at the prison, to 
which the jailor with due reverence re* 
sponded. Ouce in the prisoner's cell, he 
thus addressed him : 

"The care for thy soul, afler my chort 
departure, once more calls me hither. 
Let me know, my son, if thou hast any- 
thing yet untold upon thy heart and con- 
science, that I may console thee." 

** Reverend father," Benedix answered, 
** my conscience troubles me much less 
than thy purgatory, which gives me fear 
and anxiety ; it squeeses my heart as if 
it were in the thumb-screw." 

Friend Turnip-Counter had very crude 
and jumbled notions of theological mat- 
ters, wherefore a cross-question on his 
part — " How do you mean ?"— could be 
well enough accounted for. 

<* Ah I" Benedix interposed, "I cannot 
stand that wading knee-deep in the fire- 
pit 1" 

"Fool I" repeated the other, "why 
not keep oat of it, if the bath be too hotr' 



320 



IIUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



Benedix thought that a screw was loose 
somewhere, and he stared at the priest in 
a manner that warned him not to commit 
another blander; and he turned away 
abruptly, saying : " but of that some oth- 
er time ; what about Clare ?. Dost thou 
love her still as thy bride ? Hast thou a 
message for her at thy last hour ? If so, 
let me know." 

The young man felt the magical effect 
of that name with such force, that he 
gave vent to cries and sobs, without being 
able to speak. The monk, in pity, thought 
it about time to put an end to the perfor- 
mance. " Poor fellow," he said, "keep 
quiet and take courage, thou shalt not 
die. I know thee to be innocent, and 
thy hands clean of the imputed crime ; 
therefore I have resolved to open the 
prison and unlock these chains." He 
drew forth a key from his pocket, saying, 
" Let me eee if it will fit the lock ;" the 
experiment proved satisfactory, the iron 
dropped from the prisoner's hands and 
feet, and he stood unencumbered. Next, 
the monk changed clothes with Benedix, 
saying, " Pass slowly out, like one of our 
brotherhood, through the outside guards 
and down the street, until thou reachest 
the boundary-line of the town, then 
hasten with all thy speed to gain the 
mountains ; rest not, until thou art in 
Liebenau, at Clare's house ; then knock 
softly at the window, for there is no 
harm in that, if she is waiting." 

Benedix thought that this must be all 
a dream ; he rubbed his eyes, and pinch- 
ed his arms, to find out his real condition 
and situation, and when he found that 
he was wide awake, he fell down before 
his deliverer, embraced his knees, and 
tried to stammer his thanks. But as 
time was valuable, he gratefully took 
the proffered loaf of bread and a sausage 
with him, to lunch upon, and passed the 
sombre prison walls, trembling for fear 
of being recognized. Yet, the sacred 
cowl possessed such excellent virtues in 



disguise, that the jailors never would 
have thought the bird it covered was one 
of different feathers. 

Clare, lonely and depressed, sat in her 
little chamber, listening to the whisper- 
ing wind, and starting at the footsteps of 
every passer-by. itarki did not some- 
thing rustle at the window shutter? — 
was that not the door-knocker which 
sounded ? With fluttering heart she jump- 
ed to her feet, peeped through the wicket 
and found herself disappointed. Time 
wore on ; the roosters in the neighbor- 
hood shook their wings, while their crow- 
ing told of the breaking of day, as the 
convent bell sounded to matins. To her 
it sounded like a death knell and burial 
requiem ; the night watch blew his horn 
for the last time, to rouse the sleepj fe- 
male bakers to their early work.* Clare's 
lamp burned dull, because its oil gave 
out ; her anxiety rose with each passing 
moment, which must account for her 
neglect to notice the splendid rose of good 
omen, as it burned at the glowing wick.f 
Her heart sickened, but tears flowed free- 
ly, when she sighed: "Benedix! Bene- 
dix I what a terrible day is breaking for 
both of us 1" 

From the window she beheld the sky 
towards Hirchberg of a bloody red, while 
black clouds flitted like messengers of 
evil across the horizon. It was enough 
to make a feverish and excited brain reel. 
Finding relief in a sort of dull apathy, 
she did not observe the dead silence 
around. This was broken by three light 
but distinct knocks at the window ; surely 
it was a reality this time. A sensation 
of awe crept over her, and she rose quick- 
ly, but could not repress a scream at hear- 



* In accordance, of courBe, with the coatoma of 
the country where these scenes aie laid. 

NOTS BT TaiHBLATOB. 

t Superstition feeds not only on strange phenomena 
but also on trifles. A chip obsenred by the initiated 
from a bumlof; candle wicic, is made the fore-wamcr 
of some misfortune ; a rose, the reTerse, although \t 
requires a queer noddle to find chips, roses, and 
burning wicks, so near related to one another. 

Non BT TBjLKBLATOB. 



THE TURNIP-COUNTER. 



321 



ing ft voice whisper from outside, " Sweet 
lore I irt tboa awake V Id a twinkling 
she stood at the door. <*OhI Benedix, 
dost thou come, or is it thj ghost ?'' Be- 
holding the reverend father, she dropped 
down in horror ; but, happily, his faith- 
ful arm and kisses of love — acknowledg- 
ed to be the best remedy for all hysteric 
fits of this kind — soon restored her to 
conscioosness again. The first joy of 
their re-anion over, Benedix attempted 
to tell her of his wonderful escape from 
the sombre prison, but his tongue, from 
painful thirst, stuck to his mouth, until 
Clare brought him some fresh water; this 
rerired him, but hunger exercised its 
craTings, and Glare had the only common 
f anacea of lovers, salt and bread, over 
which many an impassionated couple 
have vowed somewhat rashly, perhaps, 
to enjoy life satisfied, and happy togeth- 
er. He remembered his sausage, drew it 
from his pocket, somewhat astonished at 
finding it heavier than a horse-shoe ; but 
this did not prevent him from break- 
ing it asunder, when lol the bright 
gold pieces dropped to the floor, occasion- 
ing Clare new anxiety, doubting as she 
did, if Benedix, after all, was as innocent 
as the gentleman from the forest had pro- 
claimed him to be, and the gold not a 
part of the plunder. 

In making her understand how the 
good monk undoubtedly had bestowed on 
htffl this treasure, to commence house- 
keeping decently, the youth's honest face 
vent far to convince her that he spoke 
the truth. With deep gratitude, both 
blessed the generous benefactor; they 
left their birth-place and settled in 
Pngne, where Master Benedix as a man 
of means, lived with Clare for bis wife, 
b conjugal happiness, surrounded by a 
numerous offspring. So deeply had the 
fear of the gallows taken hold of him, 
that he never acted dishonestly against 
his customers, (in opposition to a settled 
habit of his craft) and he never appro- 



priated the smallest trifle of cloth as cab- 
bage* from its owner. 

About the same time that Clare heard 
her lover's taps at the window, a person 
knocked at the prison door in Hirchburg; 
this was no other than the real father 
confessor, anxious to delirver up his pupil 
to the hang-man, in a manner that reflec- 
ted credit on the master. Turnip-Coun- 
ter had taken up the delinquent's part, 
and in honor of justice resolved to go 
through with it; to suit the case, he seem- 
ed to meet his fate with fortitude ; to the 
monk's great delight, as the blessed re- 
ward of his holy labors. Satisfied in his 
own mind, he ordered the penitent's 
chains taken off, as he would have him 
confess, and then absolve him ; but after 
all he thought that it would be well to 
make him repeat the yesterday's lesson 
over. What dire disappointment for the 
good father to find that credo and every- 
thing creditable had vanished from the 
fellow's memory, like smoke from the 
chimney. The priest was certain that 
Satan had a hand in the matter. Exor- 
cism was resorted to, but all endeavors 
to make him leave the victim, that he 
might take care of his soul, were in vain, 
neither would the credo come home to 
his memory. No furthei respite could 
be granted, no further delay in favor of 
a hardened sinner was allowed ; and be 
was taken to the place of execution. 

Pushed from off the ladder, Turnip- 
Counter sprawled to his heart's content, 
and with such vigor did he ply at the rope 
that the hangman felt afraid lest some of 



* One of MoMea'f frood-oAtared Jokes. Tftflort 
aro ft moch abiued craft In tome parts of Qermanj. 
Slnee the tailor, John of Lcyden, betook hlmaelf to 
the ffoat-akin, and thai produced bia hff torical fcata 
on the rampart of the beleairured city, the goat, 
among other rarletlet, has been the tymboUc eiaod- 
ard of the fraternity ; besidet, turning op one*s noee 
in contempt at a person being of ** Uilor*t wel^t,'* 
ranks in force of point with the Knglish " only amall 
potatoes '* ; but the sererest charge laid at their door 
is, It is said, a habit adrolUy to cut out of the piece 
of cloth, handed them by a customer for a new suit, 
enough to make up another suit for thrmselres. 
Such cloth, along with odds and ends. Is thrown, till 
resurrection time, in the large drawer or ** capacious 
bell** of ths workman. Mora bt TauwiaTOft. 



322 



nUTCHINOS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



the crowd who were looking on should 
hint that they ought to stone him for do- 
ing his work so hunglingly, and to which 
must be ascribed the horrid torture of the 
dying man. Now, as Turnip-Counter 
wanted to avoid any new misfortune, he 
settled himselif in a rigid position, and 
pretended to be dead; however, when 
the people had dispersed, and some per- 
sons, taking a walk near the gallows, 
stepped up to have a look at the corpse, 
the wag played his odd tricks again, 
and his grimaces were such that he made 
them take to their heels in great conster- 
nation. 

It being noised abroad that the hanged 
individual was unable to die, and had got 
off so many strange antics as to astonish 
the people, the report induced the Senate 
to send off a committee of investigation 
early the following morning. When they 
arrived, their surprise may be guessed 
at, to find a man of straw only, covered 
with rags, and swinging from the suspen- 
ded beam like a scare-crow ; such as peo- 
ple sometimes put up among their green 
peas, to keep the sparrows at a respecta- 
ble distance from the garden — who quiet- 
ly was put by, and a report circulated 
that the tailor being of *' easy weight," 
was blown away by the high wind,(!) last 
night, and was far beyond the frontiers. 

FANCIES. 



BY A NVW CONTRIBUTOR. 
I. 

Restl 
Rest for the troubled sool, 
Whose turbid waters roll 
Their solemn dirges 
In BuUen surges 
Up from the gloomy cavernB of my breast, 
Flinging their spray of salt and bitter tears 
Over the skeleton wrecks of bygone years, 
Driven upon the rocks in wild unrest t 
Gay barks were they of youth, 
Freighted with love and truth, 



With sails all spread to catch life's balmy 
But in the gloom of night, [breese* 
Before the tempest's might, 
Amid the breaker's roar 
Went down forevermore, 

And hope, and love, and faith, were buried 
in the seas. 

n. 
Peace ! 
From labor comes a sweet release, 
A relaxation which the toil-worn mind, 
Throbbing with thought, so longs to find, 
Here, all its stormy surgtngs cease. 
Birds flood with song the incense-laden air, 
Which softly bathes the heated brow of care, 
'Till the sweet warblers in the olive trees 
Seem soft ^olians wakened by the breeze, 
Which waft the thoughts into the land of 

dreams, 
As wild flowers float away on meadow 
streams. 

III. 
Rest I 
The balmy air floats lazily around, 
The trees are rustling with a soothing sound, 
The sun is slowly sinking in the west ; 
Delicious peaches in the foliage green 
Hide their red cheeks, half blushing to be 

seen. 
While their rich lips in softest touches meet 
Each stealing from the other kisses sweet. 
The pear trees shower their fhlness on the 

plain. 
In luscious drops of Autumn's golden rain; 
So let the memories which these scenes 

recall 
Ripen in idleness, and thickly fall, 
While twilight hours lull every dreamy sense 
In deep, delicious, dreamy indolence. 

IV. 

Dream I 
The silver stars which flood the skies 
Beam brightly down, like love-lit eyes. 

Dream ! 
Sweet pictures of the dear home band 
Far, far away in Eastern land — 
Some now walk heaven's sapphire strand, 
And one comes back whose name has long 



TRYING MOMENTS. 



323 



Beco wbispered bj an Angel throng — 
Thus would I dream, 
Till morning's beam, 
And float aback on times' swift stream, 
Forget the present, let the past 
Bring, rest, and peace, and love at last 
The twilight hoar, so still and calm. 
Shall breathe a dreamj vesper psalm, 
And soothe me with the quiet joj 
Which blessed mj spirit when a boy. 



TRYING MOMENTS. 



An incident, though of small moment, 
oeeairing within hearing, at my hotel one 
morning, gave rise to some reflections, 
and I now sabmit both the incident and 
reflections (or a few of them) to the con- 
sideration of all who may deem them wor- 
th/ of pemiial. 

It #as early in the morning, a gentle- 
man, his wife, and their little son some 
five years old, occnpied the room adjoin- 
ing; mine, separated only by a cloth and 
paper partition, thns making me, noUnt 
rolent, a listener to what I am here re- 
lating. It seems that a friend intend- 
ed leaving that morning for the home 
town of the parents and child ; the little 
bo J, being an earlier rifier than his pa- 
rents, had been np and invited by this 
friend to accompany him home, one day 
in advance of his parento. Elated with 
the proiTer, he ran np stairs to his father 
and mother and asked them if he might 
go. Their consent was readily given; 
bni how sincere the mother was in i bus 
consenting to part with her son for one 
day, I leave mothers to judge — at any 
rate the lips and voice gave the consent. 

When all was ready, she bade him come 
and give father and mother a parting kicw, 
and heartily (judging from the 
nd) it was given — all was aocomplish- 
ed bat to walk out of the pre:*ence of bin 
parents; but here came ** trying mo- 
ments." Those little feet whose move- 
meats so recently over the floor, fsnd vp 
and down the stair-way, made merry 



music, were still and silent — ^that little 
voice, all gleeful and mirthful, in a mo- 
ment was hushed in silence— for the first 
time the painful reality broke upon his 
youthful mind that he was going away 
from his father and mother. Probably 
he began to wonder who would kiss away 
his little troubles, and when night came, 
disrobe and lay him down to his evening 
slumbers. Halting and hesitating a mo- 
ment, the wells of filial love breaking 
loose, overflowed his little heart, and with 
sobs and tears he retraced his steps and 
ran to the arms of bis mother, already 
oatstretched to receive him. To the moth- 
er too, these were " trying moments. " 
Could her boy, so young, voluntarily 
leave her for a whole day? And when 
she found filial love so deep seated in her 
son, her joy may be judged by her utter- 
ance of such expressions as these: — "I 
knew mother's boy oonld'nt go away and 
leave her. " " If that old stage had up- 
set and killed him, what would mother 
have done for a little boy." '* His moth- 
er's only darling ; " and others of similar 
character. 

And thus it is from childhood, from 
our earliest infancy to life's close, and at 
almost every step we take, we are met 
with " trying moments," 

When the child-boy has arrived at an 
age deemed advisable by his parents to be 
sent from home to an academy or college, 
to acquire an education, that he may be 
qualified to discharge, with credit and 
profit, the daties and requirements if life; 
the selection of location having been 
made, his clothing arranged and packed, 
the carriage to bear him away standing 
at the door, and he for the first time is 
called upon to take leave of a kind fath- 
er who has always loved and provided 
for him ; of a devoted mother, who watch- 
ed over and nursed him during his infan- 
cy, and at whose knee he had been taught 
and accustomed to lisp his infantile, 
evening vesper— when smaller brothers 



32 



HUTCniNGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



and sisters, with teartul eyes stand around 
to receive the parting kiss ; and his own 
heart, ready to burst asunder by sup- 
pressed emotion ; to him, these are ''try- 
ing moments I " He must have a stout 
heart, indeed, and one not to be envied, 
who can pass through them unmoved. 
But the absence is to be only temporary ; 
in a little while— consoling thought — he 
will return doubly endeared to those 
whose leave-taking now constitute his 
" trying moments/' 

Follow a little farther the boy-subject 
of our reflections. In a few years, with 
diploma in his pocket, having acquired 
the advantages which education gives, 
returns to the parcutal roof; but his stay 
is of short duration ; it has become nec- 
essary for him now to enter upon the du- 
ties of manhood life. It is true, the 
world is before him, but how dark and 
gloomy the prospect of saccess. In the 
various pursuits and professions, every 
department seems already overcrowded, 
and by each aspirant who would swell the 
number, instead of extending the help- 
ing hand of encouragement to meet and 
hail him as a brother and co-worker, he 
is scowled upon and repulsed. Hitherto 
he has always had a home, and been sur^ 
rounded by those that loved and cared 
for him. In sickness nursed by a devo- 
ted mother and kind sisters, and all his 
wants provided for by an indulgent fath- 
er ; now he is to leave his old home— to 
expatriate himself from kindred and 
friends, to seek a new home in a world 
unknown and untried. The time has 
come, and he must again take leave — ^fur 
aught he knows, a last and fipal leave of 
his childhood home, and bo borne away 
from all that is near and dear to him in 
life — these are " trying moments." 

A little farther, and there are moments 
of still greater trial than these if his as- 
pirations lead to eminence or distinction. 
The goal of ambition being a knowledge 
of the science and practice of law — after 



having passed through yes rs of adversity 
and sacrifice, burning the midnight oil in 
laborious research and study. 

We will not stop to recount the mo- 
ments of trial which come and go with 
the days, weeks, and months, and often 
years which intervene between the new 
fledgling of the bar and his first cast. 
They are negative in their character, and 
require only patience, perseverance, in- 
dustry, and a moderate share of good 
common sense to overcome them all ; for, 
at some stated period, after putting up 
his " shingle '' the first client makes his 
appearance and states the facts which 
are to constitute his^r^^co^e. This long 
looked for, important personage having 
introduced himself and stated his case, 
and desiring '* advice ; " to know what 
his remedy is — it may be said presents to 
the new novitiate " moments of trial " — 
but it is of another time, and a different 
occasion I would now speak. 

After having successfully overcome 
each difficulty in its progress-the ^r«<ca«e 
has so far been presented that nothing 
remains but the " summing up " and to 
make his plea to the j ury.'' His opposing 
counsel for hours, has dealt in eloquent 
appeals to the jury — has dwelt long upon 
the great injury and injustice attempted 
to be practiced upon his client, and has 
left them to hear what may be said in 
a cause so manifestly unjust. The time 
has now come when he must stand up be- 
fore the court and jury — surrounded by 
a promiscuous crowd of idle, curious, 
criticizing spectators. Ail eyes are direc- 
ted to the fc»pot where he sits, expecting 
to see him rise and make his debtit — 
borne down by the weight of anxiety and 
excitement consequent upon the occasion, 
the many pointed, convincing arguments 
and appeals which had crowded them- 
selves upon his mind, all suitable to the 
case, have now vanished from his mental 
vision. But he cannot longer sit — ^he must 
rise — ^he does rise, and thtugh he knows 



DAISYBANK. 



325 



not whmt to say, would 8peak,but is denied 
the power of utterance. One expedient, 
and but one, stands between him and 
failare — ^ruin; it is a glass of water — ^he 
seizes it and while slowly emptying its 
cooling contents, seeks to compose his 
thoughts and lemove the cloud from his 
mind. It is his last auxiliary — ^the terri- 
ble, death-like stillness must be broken — 
these, these are " trying moments." 

And now, kind reader, I leave ^ese 
** reflections " to be extended, if desired, 
bj your own reflections drawn from your 
storehouse of observation and experience. 
The wo. Id is full of " trying moments ; " 
they are to be found everywhere, more 
perhaps in its unwritten, than in its writ- 
ten history. He who would win the 
prixe and experience the exultant joy of 
victory and triumph — he who would at> 
tain to position, honor, wealth, fame, or 
any of the unnumbered, priceless objects 
which excite the honorable ambition of 
the wise and good, must pass through 
** moments" aye, oftener "hours" of 
trial ; to say nothing of the years of stu- 
dy, U>il, and privation which goes before. 
Let not this truth, however, deter one as- 
piring spirit from entering the field of 
cooteet, but be like unto the sturdy oak ; 
which, striking deeper and deeper its 
r-jotii, aa the storms grow stronger and 
more violent, it grows and continues to 
irrow taller, until it becomes a majestic 
tree, and is universally recognised and 
known as King of the forest. 

LCHAUD. 

DAISYBANK. 

BT JfAar VIOLA TINOLtr. 
CBAPTIR I. 

Little more than two years ago, as I 
sat in the school-room at noon, a note 
wa« handed me. This was on examina- 
tioQ day. Upon opening it I read the 
following : 



Dear May : 

I know your vacation is near, and you 
faithfully promised me to spend the time 
at Daisy bank. Cousin Byron has arrived 
from the East, and is to stay with u» this 
summer. He looks i us t like that hp^'' 
some little Carlos, who went to CelehK 
dancing school, when we did, in the o^d 
garret on Washington street, in '53. Oh ! 
you41 admire him so much — he is alto- 
gether so charming I So, my dear, throw 
aside equations and French rules, and 
oohie without fail. Florexck. 

I hastily replied: 

With all my heart. Tell Ben Brown- 
ing that I'm coming, and that I wish to 
ride that magnificent black horse of his, 
"Lassie." I think Til like Byron—but 
not if he isn't as proud as Cassar. You 
know I always despbed a tame, obsequi- 
ous man. Mat. 

Two mornings after this, I was seated 
in Col. Ellet's carriage and on my way 
to visit Florence, my school-mate, who 
had lefl us one year before. I had been 
to see her two or three times during that 
time, as we were inseparable confidants. 
We followed the road to San Mateo, and 
beyond, where we turned off among the 
hills for several miles, till we came into 
the little valley, or rather cafion, where a 
beautiful white cottage appeared, the 
only one to be seen, and soon I jumped 
from the carriage and was cordially wel- 
comed by my friends. 

Daisybank is situated near the farther 
end of the cafion, on the high, and in 
spring time, always daisy-covered bank 
of a beautiful streamlet "meandering at 
its own sweet will," and selfishly taking 
care to always glide from side to side, 
where the most lovely flowers grow, and 
where the most graceful shade-trees bend 
low. 

Florence and I christened the place 
Daisvbank, and the brook Afton — for we 
always loved that streamlet and its name, 
of which Burns so tenderly speaks. Then 
there was a big, noble oak tree, that we 
called "Washington." Surely, if there 
was ever an earthly paradise, this was 



326 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



one. Behind the house, the bafik sloped 
far down to the water ; then up rose a 
high, gradually sloping mountain, the 
side of which was covered with luxuri- 
ant foliage, and trees, and mossy stumps, 
and winding paths. Then such sweet 
singing birds, so many tiny nests, and 
squirrels, and creeping vines, and dainty 
hanging mosses. On the left was an 
even meadow full of trees and flowers, 
ai:d green grass. And there that roguish 
stream gurgled and laughed o'er its peb- 
bles; and beyond were more hills. In 
front, a well cultivated garden spread 
out, and beyond that the most beautiful, 
lazy, rolling hills, yelvet-covered, and 
among which were the oldest of tumbled 
together rocks, and ups and downs, ever 
found — a capital place for hide and seek 
by moonlight. Then the cottage was 
almost smothered with honeysuckles, 
Madeira vines, and Australian creepers ; 
sweet roses peeped in at the windows, 
and the multiflora covered the large bay 
windows of the library. There was a 
pretty parlor, a fine library, with rrey 
comfortable lounges and good books, and 
an airy dining hall, that opened its wide 
French windows on the brook-side ; and 
large chambers with white curtains. Oh, 
it was just my idea of a fine country 
home ! There was not the waft of a 
breeze that was not sweet — not a laugh 
or expression from the heart that was 
not of gladness, and in harmony with 
the songs of the birds, that looked like 
winged flowers among the green foliage. 
How many such homes there are in 
California, that thousands know not of. 
Oh, those lovelier-than-Italian sunbeams 
do not all dance merely upon torn up 
golden mountains, and upon hearts whose 
only prayer is for the precious metal. 
No, God bless us I there are homes where 
they shed their heavenly light on flowers 
of purity, sweetness and contentment, 
and as the wanderer leans on the gate 
and "brings his thoughts from their 



wandering^/' he exclaims, " Oh, home I 
so much like home I dear, bygone days I" 

** 'Tis too bad, May, that Byroa has 
gone off hunting ; but yet I am glad, for 
I want you all to myself a while.'' 

So we talked and laughed, and towards 
evening we made a vrreath of wild flow- 
ers and followed up the hill-side, behind 
the house, to place it at the head of her 
little brother Eddy's grave. I well re- 
member the dear blue eyes that had gone 
to sleep in the Lamb's bosom, since I 
first went to Daisybank. 

As we returned to the house, I iaw a 
shadow moving on the hill and soon old 
"Rover," the dog, came up, and follow- 
ing was Mr. Byron Reeve— a handsomer 
man, by far, than any that I have since 
seen — to whom I was duly introduced, 
and at whom I slyly peeped from under 
my hat. He then teamed and left us, 
politely excusing himself. I bad only a 
glimpse of him — but I will not say what 
my first impressions were. 

" That's my knight I Is not he bril- 
liantly magnificent?" said Florence, en- 
thusiastically, as he left us. 

••Decidedly, brilliantly dark," I re- 
plied. 

"That is just why we golden-haired 
girls like such — dont we know? Td like 
to see the blue-eyed man that we'd ad- 
mire — would'nt you. May ? " 

••Guess that is because we are contrary 
— nevertheless 'tis true. It is nonsense 
to hear school-girls talking of beaux, 
anyhow," said I. 

"Is it? We'll see. I imagine you 
have as susceptible a heart as any one. 
Why, did'nt we used to cuddle down in 
a corner of the school-yard at recess, and 
study the 'Lady of Lyons?' — (dont you 
remember what fun we had in making 
the gestures in — * Would'st thou have me 
paint the scene, etc.?) and devour • By- 
ron ' and ' Moore ? ' and dont we know as 
much sentimental poetry as any body ? 
Oh, I'd laugh if you were to feel a wild- 



DAISYBANK. 



327 



beaUng in your boanding heart, pretty 
■oon 1 " and we pasaed into the hoase. 

CHAP. II. 

That evening we sat on the piaisa and 
sang, whilst Mr. Reeve aoeompanied us 
on the guitar. Then Ben Browning made 
his appearance and played a real lively 
old darkey tune — one of those which 
you cannot help timing with yonr foot — 
and " Jim '' danced such a plantation jig 
that made ns laugh wildly. 

Byron Reeve was from Georgia — but 
had spent much of his time in traveling 
when he could get the means, not being 
m man of wealth. He had giiined for 
himself in the Eastern States quite a 
repatation as a fine writer. 

CoL Ellet, his uncle, being a practical 
old gentleman, and more of an enthusiast 
over a new cargo of goods consigned to 
his care than over any brilliant poetical 
effosioQ emanating from a noble and toil- 
ing brain, soon denounced him as an idle 
joang rogue, throwing away his life, and 
thai he ought to isolate himself from so- 
ciety, instead of living in fresh air where 
the glorious beauties of nature lay before 
him — where his brilliant fancy could 
wing its flight; and, catching the music 
of the passing breese and the mystic 
words of the monitor flowers, weave them 
into beautiful notes that would live for 
agea, cheering the weary and keeping 
yoong the joyous hearted — he ought to 
stand in a dark comer, behind a desk, 
and scribble from morning until night. 

The next morning at breakfast, put- 
ting my hands before Floronce's blue 
eyes, I said, ** What news from dream- 
land, litUe lassie ? " 

*'On]y of you and your voice, and, 
eooaeqnentiy, as Ben Browning would 
say of you, of all that was charming and 
deltghtfulf you litUe mouse I" 

** What was your dream T *' she asked, 
aa we walked up the daisy bank. 

Oh, an exquisitely beautiful one I I 



••\ 



dreamed that I had roses in my hair, and 
that I was rambling in a lovely Persian 
grove, redolent of everything that is 
charming. Sweet spices grew thero, and 
orange-blossoms drooped near my cheek, 
and the pearl-spray from fragrant fount- 
ains lit upon my brow, and white lilies 
bent lower as I stepped nearor, and mossy 
tangles hung on the rough rocks of a 
waterfall, over which a beautiful rainbow 
hung, as if an angel's wing had swept 
the air. A mellow light glanced through 
the trees, and the velvety turf was stud- 
ded with rare and delicate flowers ! Oh, 
such a lovely spot I never before, even in 
dreamland, beheld I But yefc» that was 
not what caused the great beauty and 
love in my heart; 'twas the companion- 
ship of one whose every word was music 
and poetry, such as i had never before 
known. Though strange, bright birds 
sang the sweetest lays, yet 1 listened only 
to the music that came from his eloquent 
lips. 

*' Now, whom think you it was T Ah, 
you would never guess 1 None other 
timn the Persian bard, llafis. He sang 
of the dew-drop that kissed the petals of 
the rose, of the breese that stole the 
breath of the sweet white narcissus, of 
the dropping water that came like tink- 
ling bells to the ear, of the music of the 
human voice, of the tender glance of the 
eye, the wild throbbing of the heart, and 
of the beauty, love and immortality of 
the soul. Was it not charming?" I 
asked. 

"Indeed, indeed it was I but I hofe 
you did'nt enjoy that promenade with Uia 
oM bald-headed Hafiz ? " 

"Not at all ! for he had the form, voice 
and features of your cousin Byron." 

" He had ! " she said, half jealously. 

" Yes, and hero is the mystery. Du- 
ring this visit to dreamland, I heard con- 
stant music ; and after I had awakened, 
still heard the sweetest music of birds, 
far off, trilling and singing. 1 listened 



328 



IIDTCfilNGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



to it for half an hour, for I am sure the 
music continued for that length of time/' 

" Oh, you are a romantic, superstitious 
little goose, May I hirds singing half an 
hour in the night! I'm sure you were 
never more deceived. I guess you have 
such a musical hirdie in your heart that 
you hear its echo at all times. I think 
you must he poetical, for don't you re- 
member what a wise old gentleman said 
to a young man when he asked if he 
thought him a poet? 'Tell me your 
dreams, if they are all full of beauty and 
sentiment, then you do not mistake your 
calling,' or something of that kind. So 
I'll go and break a spray of wild laurel 
to crown your brow." 

" Very well, but I cannot help think- 
ing of that mysterious music," replied I. 

*'Are you so sure? we'll both listen 
to-night ; but I fear no lovely dream will 
come to wake the fairy-minstrels. I don't 
know but what they hold their midnight 
revels in the damask roses at my window. 
We'll see." 

By this time we had wandered over the 
hill and down the other side, near a clear, 
beautiful lake, almost smothered by the 
graceful foliage that margined it. As this 
was as near the " Como " of our imagi- 
nation as any thing we had seen, it was 
so called — Como in miniature. We sat 
down on a grassy plot beneath a big tree, 
overlooking the waters, and quietly chat> 
ted. Soon as I jumped up, a voice famil- 
iar said, "Yoyons done, Mesdemoisellesl 
ne vonges pas ! " 

'* Nous voila done, devant . le grand 
Horace Yernet I Eh bien 1 AUez toujours, 
nous y voila 1" for upon looking on a 
little rise to the right of us, I beheld Mr. 
Reeve with a sketch-book, and we sat 
still for some time, weaving delicate 
wreaths from the petals of the wild lark- 
spur that lay in our laps. 

" Please to give my nose a Grecian 
turn, Mr. Artist, as almost every painter 
flatters 1 " said I. 



<i 



And I command that my face be 
Madonna-like, after the old Spaniah Mu- 
rillo I " followed Florence. 

" Yery Grecian and Madonna-like jou 
young sauce-boxes are, with golden ring- 
lets and gipsey hatsl" answered the 
sketcher. 

"Does he paint?" I asked. 

** Yery little, but sketches a great deal, 
a kind of a Jack at all beautiful trades." 

*' Including love-making ? " 

" Of course not, little monkey," said 
she, putting her hand over my mouth for 
fear he would hear. 

Sure enough, as we peeped over his 
shoulder, there we were; pretty good 
likenesses, with "Como" in the front 
and the tree in the background. Florence 
bent near enough his cheek to have kissed 
him, and then very impolitely whispered, 
when I, fearing I was Mile, de Trop, 
went back to the tree, and taking her lit- 
tle copy of " Keats," read. They walked 
further off, Florence merely turning and 
saying, " Excuse me. May dear, be there in 
one moment." I smiled and nodded my 
head, but very many moments fled, and 
no young lady returned. There they 
stood away at the foot of the hill. , 

I started for the house, and as I came 
over the hill I was met by Ben Brown- 
ing, who was just going home. 

"You startle as prettily as a fawn. 
Miss May ! How beautifully blue your 
eyes are this morning," said he, as he 
looked in my face. 

" You are not only a flatterer, but are 
vain," returned I. " And why ? because 
you are looking at yourself in my eyes." 

"And you are not only vain, but proud 
of their blue." 

" Tis only the shade of these violets 
and lark-spur that are looped in my hat- 
strings." 

"Here, then! I presume as I hold 
these wild marigolds to my cheek that 
mine are yellow ; or, as I pars through a 
waving rye-field, they are green; or 



OUR SOCIAL CHAIR. 



329 



among the roses of Florence's baleosy, 
Ibey are damask." 

I laughed at the idea, for his were so 
black. 

** If that be true, Miss May, always 
wear lark-spur or blue-bells near your 
cheek." 

*' And you, flattering I " I replied, and 
leaTing him abruptly, ran down the hill- 
side to the house, where I was met by 
Un. Ellet, who said, 

** Where have you been, dear ? " 

••Orer by 'Como," reading 'Keats,"' 
replied I. 

And what is Florence doing?" 
I left her there, studying Byron very 
aMidnously — perfectly enraptured I" 

** And do you not like Byron as well 
as 'Keats?'" 

" Oh, yes, th»»re is more real life about 
the former; still, I am not as enthusias- 
tic an admirer of him as is Florence ;" 
and from my wickedly innocent face she 
ffuspected nothing, as she understood that 
Byron Reeve had gone off on a hunting 
expedition, no doubt supposing the port- 



*« 



•« 



folio to be a shot-bag ; whereas he had 
been sketching Florence, the idol of his 
dreams, and doubtless murdering the 
beautiful productions of his renowned 
namesake. Therefore she only added — 

"Ah, my pets are very sentimental 
this morning." 

Perhaps I admired " Browning" most 
—but, to tell the truth, I didn't, for he 
had no poetry in his soul — at least, he 
never breathed it to me. Now, if he 
could have sidd something as pretty as 
this — 

** Bay orer agmin, and yet once again. 
That thou dost lore me. Though the word repeated 
Should eeem a cnckoo-aong, as thou dost treat It ; 
Remember, never to the htU or plain, 
Valley and wood, without her cuckoo strain 
Comes the fresh Spring in all her green completed I 
Belored, I, amidst the darkness greeted 
By a doubthxl spirit-voice, in that doubt's pain 
Cry, speak once more — thou lovest I Who can fear 
Too many stars, though each in heaven shall roU— 
Too many flowers, though each shall crown the y^rf 
Bay thou dost love me, love me, love me— toU 
The silver Iterance I only mlDding, dear, 
To love me also in silence, wltli thy soul !** 

But I was not at all fasi inated. 

[Concluded next mouth.] 



m^m 



6ur Sotial €\ut. 




*r^: 



AN, as we have before remarked, is 
considered the only animal that can 
* really laugh, and of course he nev- 
er wonld have been gifted with this power if 
it was not desigoed that he should use it. 
We love to see a man laugh, sometimes — ^not 
one of your little fmtrAv, but a downright 
regular korte lawfK — a laugh which shakes 
the cobwebs out of his soul, and sends the 
blood tingling to the ends of his fingers. 
Every such laugh adds to the sum total of 
his existence. Heaven deliver us from a 
man who never laughs ; we suspect him at 
once, and avoid him as we would a grizily 
bear. 

There are some well bred people who 
think it clownish to laugh — they smile 



sometimes — a sickly smile, which dies 
from want of blood, before it is fairly bom. 
There are others, who, like the old cove* 
nanters of Cromwell, go about with sour 
faces, thinking it an unpardonable sin to 
crack a joke, or laugh at others who do 
crack them. Life is a very serious burden 
to themselves and to all about them. 

There is another class of non-laughers, 
who carry too much dignity, to laugh. 
They would like to do so, but then it would 
lower their dignity. Behind a hay stack 
they might indulge in a vociferous roar, 
but before folks, oh I never. 

Not that we would always have a man 
grinning like a monkey, but the gravest 
man is by no means always the wisest. The 



330 



nUTCHINOS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



owl is perhaps the gravest of birds, and 
tho stupidest. A donkey carries a graye 
face, and has a great deal of professional 
dignity, but nobodj thinks any more of 
him for that. Doctors and undertakers are 
excusable for not laughing — they deal in 
yravtfsubjects : folks also with heavy heads, 
for they cannot appreciate the ridiculous. 
Schoolmasters need'nt laugh, for every- 
body laughs at them. But common people 
ought to laugh and grow fat. Laugh — in 
company, and out of it. A merry laugh is 
better music than a piano. If you are mel- 
ancholy, laugh to drive the blues away. If 
you are gay, laugh because you want to 
laugh. If you have white teeth, laugh to 
show them ; if you have none, don't puck- 
er up your mouth to hide the loss. 

If you have nothing better to laugh at, 
laugh at this : It is a rich specimen of the 
art, and the bona fide production of a poet- 
ical young man '*down east" — we know 
the parties, and vouch for it. Clark, of the 
Knickerbocker^ wanted these verses, but he 
could'nt be accommodated. Here they are \ 
let them tell their own lemancholy story, 
xerbatim et literatim : 

Written on the sad accident that occurred in 
Pittgfieldj y. ff., July 4th, 1853, that brought 
one of our number to the grave, 

PBICB THBEB CENTS. 

1 One more in hand I take my pen 
To compose a few lines again 

Now look these o'er with tender care 
That you may read with equal share 

2 Prehaps this will make you weep 

To think of one that in death doth sleep 
To think how soon he was born away 
His lifeless body cold as clay 

3 In the morn was sprightly as any one 
At ten o'clock the scene began 

It was on the fourth day of July 
That one was calld for to die 

4 He went out for to celebrate 
But how unhappy -was his fate 
He lingered along in pain and woe 
And did expire about two 

5 what a wicked life hes run 
And what becomes of such a son 
That has not made that blessed choice 
Nor harkned to the B&ivoura voice 

6 He has gone we cant tell where 
Prehaps be is ia misery there 



There to live and always reign 
And never to return again 

7 He did not think being called so soon 
But his morning sun sot at noon 
And left him in a dismal light 
Thus he has gone from our sight 

8 Only think of the dreadful woe 
That we know not of here below 
£ut how unhappy he must be 
To dwell in hell eternally 

9 Prehaps the father tried alibis might 
To train him up as he thought right 
But there was something lacking here 
That would make bim happy in that sphere 

10 Now the father has something to reflect 
To think how he endulged the sob [upon 
Perhaps now he would ben here 

If it had not ben for the father dear 

11 But he had no thoughts of this 
That morn was so happy in bliss 
But now you can plainly see 
Your son has gone far from the 

12 Hes left his friends kind parents dear 
To mourn the loss of a son so near 
Oh they may look with weeping eyes 
But the last view in the grave he lies 

13 There he must lay and turn to dust 
Never more in his fathers trust 
There he must lie all silent around 
Untill the last trump doth sound 

14 Then he must come forth again 
Whither he be hiippy or in pain 

If he is sentenced to heaven or hell 
None earth knows nor can tell 

15 The fathers love the eldest one 
Was snatched by death and gone 
Hes gone never more to return 
Has left his friends in grief to mom 

16 Think how soon he was calld and went 
All owing to the saa accident 

That happend in the morning of life 
That put him in the deepest strife 

17 Now dear brothers be not mistaken 
For one of you rnumber shurely is taken 
One that you loved while here below 
Now has gone and left you in deep sorrow 



A friend from Shasta relates the follow- 
ing amusing little incident that occurred 
in that town, and which is well worthy of a 
place in this Social Chair : 

A bright eyed little three year old, was with 
her father a few days ago on a visit to the 
Rev. Mr. S. When they were seated at the 
dinner table, and the minister had began to 



OUR SOCIAL CnAIR. 



331 



ask a blessing, it being the Srat thing of the 
kind she had erer seen or heard, she sat still, 
stnick with wonder, her eyes riveted on the 
speaker. In the evening, when they were 
again sitting around the table, and the 
good old man was engaged in again asking 
a blessing, her father happened not to be 
still at the moment, when she remarked to 
him, in an andible whisper, " pa, pa, be 
still, the man is going to talk to his plate 



again 



»f 



J. 0. C. 



BiTTijro oir a CiRTAnrrr. — Forty years 
ago, when nabobs from and in British In- 
dia were as plentiful as fillibnsters are 
now a-days — when men in that oriental 
paradise were paid like princes, and spent 
it like asses, gambling of course was com- 
mon; but even that was nothing to the 
constant habit of betting on every possible 
or impossible thing. Ererj opinion or 
statement, if disputed, was backed by a 
bet sometimes to an enormous amount. Of 
the extent of it the following truthful an- 
ecdote is an illustration : 

II , a civilian, in Calcutta, high in 

office, kept a sumptuous table. At dinner, 
at eight o'clock in the evening, a guest of 
bis — Major Oordon^— who was staying with 

him, remarked, **H , this table is a 

little too high, thirty inches is the mazi- 
mam height for a comfortable dining ta- 
ble.'* ** It suits me very well," said the 
host, *'and, moreover, I am sure it does 
notezceed thirty inches." "Ob, but it does," 
qooth Gordon. "I assure yon that you 

are misUken," said M . " I wish I was 

as sure of one thousand mohurs" ($6000), 
rfjoiaed Gordon. Ton had better not bet, 
for you would lose.." "I am so oertain 
that ril bet you a thousand." 

« Done." 

** Bat I tell JO u I bet Ml a certmmty^ so if 
yon like to take it, well and good ; but I 
tell you plainly I bet on a urtamiy.'^ 

** Never mind, I am equally sure ; so 
Dosi," said M . 

A rule to measure the table was sent for. 

**Now," said Gordon, *'if yon Uko my 
word, we want no rale; yoa know you 



would bet, though I told you I had a cer- 
tainty ; the fact is, I thought the teble too 
high, and I measured it this morning after 
breakfast." " I know you did," coolly re- 
plied M . " How so ? " "I was in the 

next room, and saw your reflection in the 
mirror through the open door as you 
measured it; so I sent for a carpenter after 
yon went out, and cut three-quarters of an 
inch oft each leg !" 

A Fiw weeks ago, a couple of produce 
dealers from Contra Costa, arrived at the 
Broadway wharf, in this city, after having 
indulged together a little too freely at the 
bar on the ferry boat, while crossing the bay. 
Now it so happened — as it has often done 
before — that the effect of liquor upon the 
one was to make him more good natured 
and jovial than when sober ; while upon 
the other it produced the opposite effect, 
for he became quarrelsome and insulting, 
and ultimately sent the former a challenge. 
This was promptly accepted, and by the 
custom of " the code," the party challeng- 
ed — ^whom we will call B — had the choice 
of weapons. 

Now as B. was a man of generons im- 
pulses; and moreover, enjoyed a good joke 
as well as most men, although possessing 
as much true bravery as any man, be in- 
formed G. — ^who was somewhat of a bully, 
and consequently a coward — ^that he would 
send his friend to him to make all the nec- 
essary arrangements for their duel. 

G. went away in a very melancholy and 
uncomfortable mood, seriously pondering 
upon the loss his family would sustain in 
case of his fall, which was not at all im- 
probable, since B. was always cool and self* 
possessed, and moreover was an excellent 
shot. These thoughts sobered him a little ; 
and just as he was reproaching himself for 
hit egregious folly in provoking the quar- 
rel, and for placing the circumstances of 
his family, and his own Ufa in jeopardy, 
his second walked In and informed him 
that he had met B's second, and that every 
thing was arranged for their hostile maet* 
ing, and that he wished his priaeipal to 



332 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



walk down with him immediatelj to the 
end of Clay street wharf, where the duel 
was to take place. 

The first impression of G. was that the 
place chosen was not altogether suita- 
ble ; but as his thoughts were mainly with 
his family, they did not recar to that sub- 
ject again, or even to suggest an enquiry, 
as to the kind of weapons to be used. In fact, 
he heartily wished himself out of it, and 
but for the laughter and scorn he must 
provoke, he would even now have apolo- 
gized rather thau fight. 

As all the party were near neighbors and 
friends, who knew G's quarrelsome dispo- 
sition when in liquor, and wishing to 
break him of his chivalric impetuosity, 
taking the cue from B., they readily agreed 
to have the duel, and dispense with balls 
in the weapons. It was also otherwise ar- 
ranged that in order to turn the whole 
more completely into ridicule, and at the 
same time restore the parties to good hum- 
or, so soon as B. had fired off his balless 
pistol, he should renew the fire with .eggs ! 

As G. was entirely in the dark upon this 
arrangement, when his antagonist resorted 
to this mode of combat, he was taken by 
surprise, but finding that a similar style of 
warfare was very handy at his side, partly 
instigated to it by his second, he returned 
the fire, when each presented such a ludic- 
rous appearance, covered with egg shells 
and their contents, that one spontaneous 
laugh broke ttom the seconds, in which 
both the principals most heartily joined, 
and as the ill feeling was now at an end, 
they shook hands and were as good friends 
as ever. Thus ended a bloodless duel, to 
the entire satisfaction of both parties. 



Captain Evakb was an old naval veteran 
of sixty-seven ; he had lost an arm and an 
eye years and years before at Navarino, 
which last action settled his understanding, 
both legs being carried off by a chain shot 
Cork legs were coming into fashion. Capt. 
E. had a pair of the first quality made for 
him : he had a false arm and baud ; inio 
the latter he could screw a fork or a hook 



as occasion required, and being gloved, the 
deficiency was not easily perceived. As 
increasing years rendered him infirm, his 
valets took advantage of him, so that he 
wrote to his brother — a Somersetshire 
squire — to send him up some tenant's son 
as body servant. '* No matter how stupid, 
if but honest and faithful," he wrote. 

His brother was absent, and sent to his 
steward to select a lad. This the steward 
did, but merely mentioned that Captain 
Evans was infirm, not apprising the Inmp- 
kin of his new master's deficiencies, &nd 
sent him to London at once, where the 
Captain lived. 

At ten at night, he arrived, and was im- 
mediately shown to Captain Kvans' sitting 
room. 

" What is your name ? " 

*' My name be John, zur." 

'^ Well, John, my rascally valet is absent 
again without leave ; help me to bed, as 
it is late, and then you can go down to 
your supper." 

Adjourning to the bedroom, the old gen- 
tleman said, 

" JokUy urucrew my leg," 

'' Zur," said John. 

" Unscrew my leg; this way, see. 

John did so, tremblingly. 

^^John^ unterew my other ley." 

" Zur," said John. 

" Ufuerew the other ley, tir " 

John did so, now, in a state of bewild- 
erment. 

" t/oAfi, unecrew thia arm," 

Trembling still more, to the Captain's 
great amusement, he obeyed. 

" John, put this eye on the table." 

John took it as if it would have bitten 
him. 

^*Now, John — no I won't take the other 
eye out — lift me into bed." 

This done, the waggish Captain contin- 
ued, " John, beat up the pillow, it is not 
comfortable." 

It was done. 

**B€at it up again, sir: it is quite bard." 

Again John shook up the pillow. 

<* That won't do ; John, I can't get my 



OUR SOCIAL CHAIB. 



333 



head comfortable. D — n it, John, tmtcrew 

"No, by G — d, I'll unscrew no more ;" 
and John fled from the room to the kitch- 
en, swearing his master was the d — 1, tak- 
ing himself to pieces like a clock. 



As Christmas and New Year come round, 
think of this, ye lonely bachelors : 

Every heart must hare a shrine, 
Worshipping with love divine; 
Souls must ever blend in one. 
As the brooks together run. 

Stars that shine upon the river, 
Waken answeriug star gleams ever; 
Wild flowers, where the fountains flow, 
Kiss the flowers which sleep below. 

Thus do mortals ever find. 
Answering soul and kindred mind ; 
Feelings blending into one. 
As the brooks together run. 



As the good natured epistle that follows 
\s brief, as well as sprightly, we shall al- 
low it to speak for itself: 

LETTER TO MINERS. 

San Francisco, Dec. 15, '59. 
Jfy Dear Brother* : — 

The sweet summer months are passed 
again, and we have not spoken to each 
for such a long, long time, I almost fear 
that you've forgotten little sister May. So 
soon ? But I have not forgotten you, and 
the old Mazarine is still one of my best 
friends, because it speaks so kindly of you. 

Do you wi^h to know where I've been ? 
Well, ru tell. You are acquainted with 
"'■ Iksflic," who writes so sweetly, are you 
not? 1 visited her during the summer. 
She lives iu a little fairy cage, just fit for 
two such wild birds as she and I were. 
Too remember some gentleman writing to 
the ^'Golden Era " and saying that " Bessie'' 
bad such a^ravt-yard kind of a faee^ and 
was never known to smile. Wall / if I 
didn't laugh I Guess he saw the wrong 
lady. Wish I could peep in her face now, 
and say, ^*look in my roguiah eyes, Bune!^^ 
just to see her spring up and laugh. Why, 



we skipped through the flowers, and under 
the grape and rose covered bowers, like 
mad-caps. And then such romps, and 
jokes, and joyous laughs, and songs, and 
flowers I Dear me I Guess I'd know a 
grave face sooner than most persons 1 — 
couldn't live a week where there is such a 
preventive to mirth. Bessie's nothing but 
a fun-loving girl, in disposition. When 
that gentleman comes where I am, I'll just 
draw my round cheeks down in the shape 
of an angle, and look as though I had no 
friends. Wouldn't his description of me 
be funny enough. If he should, he had 
better recollect that I have a great many 
big brothert in the mountains, who, I'm 
sure, would take my part. How could 
Bessie be unhappy, with such a home, with 
its thousands of roses, and fruit trees, and 
birds ? 

Whilst I was there, every morning a 
bird came and sang on a rose bush over 
my window, at dawn. Bless its sweet song I 
the music is yet in my heart. Thus do 
these soothing minstrels contribute to our 
happiness. 

I hope that you are very happy, broth- 
ers, and that success may come from your 
honorable labor. Do not forget me, and 
remember that you have at Ica:»t one friend 
in San Francisco. 

Where are those brothers who used to 
write me, Joe and Frank, or Doings ? Have 
they gone away ? 

Best wishes — best love, and good night, 
from yours, aflfectionately, 

SisTSR May. 

Krit Brcsscf . 
There never was a time when head 
dresses were as much worn as they are now. 
No woman of fashion is seen without them 
at any hour of the day ; nor is this article 
confined to the simplicity of construction 
and material, either in quantity or quality, 

as has often been the governing principle 
heretofore. Capes are considered the most 
distingui ornaments, and manj- of them, 
on account of the trimming, cost as much 
as the dress bonnet, and require nearly as 
large a base to hold them, but as this arti- 
cle of dress admits of more variation from 
established rules than any other, every 
milliner will understand as much from the 
hints above given as is required for practi- 
cal purposes. 

iSeniifts, 

Are very useful as well as stylish this 



334 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



winter, and the tendency to droop the 
crown less, adds still more to comfort. 
Velvet, mixed with white chip, and even 
tiille are very fashionable, 

Brcwm. 

The tight sleeve is most assuredly more 
styliFh and fashionable for promenade and 
morning dresses than any other ; they are 
not made so very tight to the arm as when 
they were in fashion in 1848, and have 
been adopted very readily, not only for the 
sake of change, but for the merit they have 
of being warm. The waists, most of them, 
are plain and high, laced in the back ; 
bows and rosettes down the whole front 
of the dress where the skirt is plain, have 
a charming effect, especially for the new 
style of woolen material, with silk stripes 
or ribs. We have not space for more this 
time on the subject of fashion, unless to 
remark, that with all our heart, as with 
our best wishes and feelings for your wel- 
fare and prosperity, we waft all our dear 
readers a •* Happy New Year's " greeting, 
and should there be amongst you any who 
are in want of such articles as cannot be 
procured in the "mountain towns,'' we 
offer our services (gratis) should you con- 
sider our taste a criterion for you, from a 
bridal suit to a plum cake : direct to 
Fashion Department of Hutchings' Cali- 
fornia Magazine. 



Pont^lQ ^corb of ftuntni &btnU» 

Thanksgiving Day, Nov. 24th, was gen- 
erally observed throughout the State. 

Three distinct shocks of an earthquake 
were felt in this city, between 7 J and 8 
o'clock on Sunday evening, Nov. 27th. 

The Sonora arrived, Nov. 27th, from 
Panama, with 1047 passengers and 1012 
packages of merchandise. 

On the 30th Nov. the Uncle Sam arrived 
with 735 passengers and the U. S. mails. 

The Orizaba sailed Nov. 30th, instead of 
the 2l6t — owing to her detention at Pana- 
ma, and consequent late arrival in this 
port — with 113 passengers. 

On the 1st ult. the wages of the laborers 
on the Government works at Fort Point, 
were reduced to $1 90 per day. 

A rich decayed quartz vein, of small 
size, was struck by Indians on the ridge 
between Uunt and Murphy's Gulches, Cal- 
averas county. It paid as high as $30 to 
$40 per pan. 

Elbbidob Gebrt Paiob, the large-heart- 
ed and gifted author of the deservedly fa- 
mous " Patent Sermons," moat of which 



were originally published in the Golden 
Eroj under the nom de plume of "Dow, Jr.," 
breathed his last on the evening of the 
4th ult. 

The Golden Gate and Uncle Sam steam- 
ships sailed for Panama on the 6th ult. ; 
the former with 352 passengers and $1,409,- 
821 in treasure; and the latter with 493 
passengers, the U. S. mails, and $73,520 in 
treasure. 

The Collector of the Port of San Fran- 
cisco confiscated 148} carats weight of 
smuggled diamonds, and which were sold 
at auction for $46 50 per carat. 

Hay is selling at $80 per ton in Trinity; 
and at $100 per ton in £1 Dorado county. 

The San Francisco Branch Mint closed 
on the 9th ult., for the purpose of making 
its customary annual settlement. 

An extensive lead mine has been discov- 
ered on a tributary of Carson River, near 
Virginia City. 

On the 10th ult. an election was held 
for Senator, in and for the city and county 
of San Francisco and San Mateo, when the 
following votes were polled : for Peachy, 
3,178 ; Hathaway, 1,892 ; Pierson, 1,401. 

Col. J. J. Mttsser was elected delegate to 
a seat in Congress from Nevada Territory, 
vacant bj'the death of Hon. James M. Crane. 

Two Russian steam corvettes, the "No- 
vick," Fedoosky, and "Rynda," Andruf, 
arrived in our harbor, Nov. 11th, from Ha- 
kodadi, Japan. They each carry 10 guns, 
14 officers, and 163 men. 

The Golden ^ge arrived from Panama 
on the 12tb ult. with 953 passengers and 
1264 packages of freight. Time made was 
20 days and 16 hours, from New York to 
San Francisco — the quickest on record. 

On the 14th the Orizaba arrived, with 
540 passengers, the U. S. mails, and 300 
packages of freight. 

Nearly 500 Piit River, Hat Creek, and 
Sierra Indian prisoners, captured by Gen. 
Kibbe, passed through this city on their 
way to the Mendocino Indian Reservation. 

At the close of the annual examination 
of the San Francisco High School, on the 
14th ult., the following scholars formed 
the firei graduating claae^ in the public schools 
on the Pacific : — Misses, Adelia B. Kimball, 
Virginia R. Rabe, Mary Caslbolt, and Em- 
ma J. Swasey ; Masters, David R. McKee, 
Patrick Barry, Frederick Elliott, John Car- 
roll, James H. Estill, Henry Gibbons, Jr., 
and Robert Wilson. 

The new California built war steamer, i 
Saginaw — the first ever built here — made 



EDITOR'S TABLE. 



335 



her trial trip od the 1 5th ult., and with fif- 
teen pooods of steam sailed twelve miles 
per hour. 

Collections in the rarious churches of 
this citj, for the Protestant Orphan Asy- 
lom, were made on the 11th and 18th ult., 
amounting to $1,146. 

The price of a through passage to New 



York, on the Sonora, was, Ist cabin, $132; 
second, $107 70 ; steerage, $47 50, on the 
20th ult. Bj the Orizaba, promenade 
deck, $137 50; saloon, $107; steerage, 
$49 50. The former carried away 253 pas- 
sengers and $1,812,536, and the latter, 
208 passengers, $25,000 treasure, and the 
U. S. Mails. 



m9m 



dBHtor's Cable. 



« 



& 



MERRY Christmas to jrou I 
God bless jou 1 " But merrj 
Christmas has come and gone, 
TOO saj, and brought with it holj recollec- 
tions of home, and friends; and carried 
with it manj fond hopes of the future ! 
How many a lonely cabin, half buried in 
the snows of the Sierras, was lighted up 
with memories of homes far away ; and 
how many hearts were made glad as they 
gathered around the happy firesides, on the 
other slope of the continent, and turned 
fondly to the golden land, breathing fervent 
prayen for the safety of some wandering 
father, or son, or brother ? 

**A happy New Year t " to one and all, we 
give from our heart's holiest thoughts and 
prayers. There is no phrase in the Eng- 
lish language more musical than this, 
when it falls from the lips of those who 
love OS 7 The music of a well known voice 
U sweeter than the whisperings of ap 
«Eolian; and when the greeting comes 
frum even passing acquaintances, it sends 
a glow over the alTections, quickens our 
tympAthies, makes our hearts lighter, and 
our smiles more cheerful, and strengthens 
the ties which unite us to our fellow mor- 
tals, who, with us, are drifting down the 
stream of time. 

Even the stranger's voice falls pleasantly 
upon the ear at such a time. Fortunate is 
it for OS, that, in this country of hurry, 
excitement, anxiety, reverses, and restless 
changes, we have the holidays — seasons of 
relaxation for the overtaxed brain — ^loop- 
holea of escape from the toilsome round of 
daily life, when the mind can forget the 
bitterness of disappointment, and the heart 



go forth to pluck the flowers of friendship, 
and from our souls we thank God for it 
• '* A happy New Year 1 " How many 
pleasant memories does the wish awaken, 
how many familiar faces does it call up 
from the mists of the past. The old years 
die, but the/oys they gave us — their loves, 
their hopes, their cherished hours-are ours 
forever. They never die. The happiest 
moments of our lives, live through all 
eternity. 

" A happy New Year! " Our Chair be- 
comes a sledge, and at the merry jingle of 
the sleigh bells, away we are dashing 
across the Sierras and the Rocky Moun- 
tains, and the broad plains, faster than 
ever the Esquimaux dogs dashed over the 
snows of Greenland with Dr. Kane. Away 
we go, under those wintry skies, where the 
old year has been wrapped in a shroud of 
snow, and consigned to the fetters of an 
icy tomb. The storm-winds of the North 
howl his death dirge, and Nature's tears 
are frozen in icicles over his grave. Far 
behind us, the mild breezes of the South 
and West, even to the Pacific, are softly 

sighing his requient, and the New Year is 
strewing flowers over his tomb. There, 
the New Year comes like a blushing maid- 
en, with sunny smiles and airy step; but, 
over those granite hills of the East, a lusty 
youth, full of vigor, bounding over deep 
snows, laughing at the biting frosts, and 
gliding over the scaled rivers and congeal- 
ed lakes. The merry music of the sleigh- 
bells is welcoming in the New Year, and 
light sledges are chasing the frosty hours 
over the hills and through the vallies. It 
is a star light winter evening : the air is 
clear as a bell ; Orion, the Pleiades, Ursa 
t Major, come trooping up the heavens, their 
' bright eyes trembling with delight; the hard 



336 



HUTCHING S' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



beaten road is of dazzling whiteness ; the 
snow groans and rumbles beneath the run- 
ners ; and a snug sleigh, silver bells, warm 
buffalo robes, a muff encasing a pair of 
hands, whose touch is like an electrical 
machine ; a snug hood, barely revealing 
cheeks upon which the warm blood blush- 
es and glows like the Northern Lights 
flashing over the skies, and a voice more 
musical than ten thousand strings of sleigh- 
bells , and more than all to think — oh 1 
here we go plunging into a snow bank I 

" A happy New Year 1 " Ye of the frozen 
North and sunny South, turn back and 
read if Christmas memories touch any old 
heart-chord of love and sympathy. May 
the New Year come to each like those 
pleasant memories of the past, and when 
it shall depart, may its memories be treas- 
ured up with delight in the casket of the 
heart. Ye you are happy, may you all be 
happier still. Ye who have known disap- 
pointment, who have seen tho brilliant 
hopes of youth fade away into viewless air, 
who are sick at heart when you look to the 
future, may God give you the strength you 
need. Ye who feel that your life is slowly 
ebbing away, that the New Years of the 
future will be few, that ye must leave this 
beautiful world, with your life half lived ; 
ye who lie awake at night and only pray 
to God to take you home where the throb- 
bing heart shall cease to pain, gather your 
thoughts about you, and learn to die like 
men. The years of destiny shall open to 
you a nobler life. Let us all love each 
other more, and thank God for another 
*' Happy New Year." 



Thb annual examination of the public 
schools, in all the principal towns and cit- 
ies of the State, was held from the first to' 
the fifteenth of the past month ; and by 
the reports received, must have given gen- 
eral satisfaction. Those of this city were 
thoroughly conducted by various examin- 
ing committees of the Board of Education, 
and although scrutinizing care and great 
impartiality were manifest, the pupils, as a 
whole, acquitted themselves with laudable 

proficiency. The article on schools, in our 
last number, will give the statistics. 

That of the High School, which was 
continued for four days, was particularly 
interesting, not only from the gratifying 
success of the students in the numerous 
and dfficult branches that form the course 
of this institution, but from the fact that 
eleven of the class that entered three years 
ago, graduated and received their diplomas; | 



being the first class of graduates from the 
Public Schools on the Pacific coast. On 
this occasion, each of the graduates read 
or delivered an original composition, that 
would have done credit to the students of 
colleges, of greater age, with much more 
lofty pretensions. The teachers of all the 
public schools of the city closed the ardu- 
ous labors of the session by a joyona so- 
cial reunion at Musical Hall; and the stu- 
dents of the High School gave a select, 
though large, private subscription party, 
in Turn Yerein Hall, at the end of the ex- 
amination. Both were well calculated to 
unite each other in a closer bond of union. 
While upon the subject of schools, we 
wish to call the attention of the Board of 
Education to the lamentable deficiency of 
a large majority of the pupils, in the beau- 
tiful and useful art of caligraphy ; for w bile 
it is matter of proud congratulation that 
nearly all of the "higher branches" are 
well taught and studied, but few can write 
a passably decent hand. This is much to 
be regretted, and should be promptly cor- 
rected. We would also suggest, that with 
one or two happy exceptions, the phytical 
education of both sexes is not sufficiently 
cultivated ; although we presume the Board 
admit that a well-developed and healthy 
body is essential to the possession of a clear 
and vigorous mind, and is, moreover, one 
of the best assistant teachers they can em- 
ploy. 



So (tonlrilndors anilr ftorrtsponbtnlB. 

O, — Next month. 

T, B. F. — Send us something that will 
make the heart beat quicker, nobler and 
better, then we will publish it <ind thank 
you. 

C. M. — The present American flag origina- 
ted in a resolution of Congress, passed 
June 13th, 1777; ''That the flag of the 
thirteen United States be thirteen stripes, 
alternately red and white ; that the Union 
be thirteen stars, white, in a blue field, 
representing a new constellation." 

A. W. — Certainly, with pleasure. 

T, M. — We should think as much ; but if 
it cost you no trouble to write, (which 
admission is not very complimentary,) 
we regret that we cannot say as much 
for the reading of it, or in the attempt 
to discover any portion of that excellence 
which yon mention. Declined. 

S. J, — Give us your Jff^ We take delight 
in welcoming an earnest and large-souled 
thinker back again to our columns. A 
corner is always, and most cordially, at 
your disposal. 



f 



\ 



HUTCHINGS' 

CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 

V"oL. I^V^ FEBRTJ ABY, 18 60. JiTo. 8. 

BLESSING THE MINE. 



rai ■HKiqnn'A qcicKULVtK utm, on tax voBNiita or dimmtiok. 



THK mterM^iigdedioktoiyocromo- 
nikl of Blewiiig the Mine U a 
eutom of Img ■taoding in msnj 
Catbolia oonutriaB, when mining i» ou- 
ried OB, eepeciallj unoog those people 
who ipeak the Spmnieh language. Witb- 
oot it, workman wonld feel a religioni 
dread, and eonaeqaentlj a timid Teloo- 



tanoe to enter npon their daily Ubon, 
leet some accidental mishap Bhoold ovet^ 
take them from inoh an omiuion. After 
thia hai been dulj performed, great oare 
is taken to erect a ihrine, be it ever to 
rude, at lome conrenient point within 
the mine, to eome farorite tntelarj laint 
or proteetiesi, whoee benedictioB thej 



338 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



r 



{ 



evoke. Before this shrine each work- 
man devoutly kneels, crosses himself, and 
repeats his Ave Maria, or Paternoster, 
prior to entering upon the duties and en- 
gagements of the day. At this spot 
candles are kept burning, both by day 
and night, and the place is one of sa- 
cred awe to all good Catholics. The bless- 
ing and dedication of a mine is, conse- 
quently, an era of importance, and one 
not to be lightly passed over, or indiffer- 
ently celebrated. 

On the morning of the day set apart 
for this ceremony, at the Enriqueta or 
San Antonio quicksilver mine, the Mexi- 
can and Chilian sefiors and sefioras be- 
gan to flock into the little village at the 
foot of the canon, from all the surround- 
ing country, in anticipation of a general 
holiday, at an early hour. 

Of course, at such a time, the proprie- 
tor sends out invitations to those guests 
he is particularly desirous should be 
present to do honor to the event ; but no 
such form is needed among the workmen 
and their friends or acquaintances, as 
they understand that the ceremony itself 
is a general invitation to all, and they 
avail themselves of it accordingly. 

Arriving in procession at the entrance 
to the mine, Father Goetz, the Catholic 
curate of San Jose, performed mass, and 
^formally blessed the mine, and all persons 
Vpresent, and all those who might work in 
it ; during which service, a band of mu- 
sicians was playing a number of airs. 
At the close, fire-crackers and the boom 
of a gun cut in the ground, announced 
the conclusion of the ceremony, on the 
outside; when they all repaired to the 
inside, where the Father proceeded to 
sprinkle holy water, and to bless it. 

These duly performed, they repaired 
to the village, near which is the beauti- 
ful residence of Mr. Laurencel, its pro- 
prietor, where, in a lovely grove of syca- 
mores, several tables were erected and 
bounteously covered with good things for 



the inner man. "Here were feasted 
nearly two hundred guests, of both sexes, 
with choice viands, in magnificent pro- 
fusion, while native wines, and other 
light potables flowed in abundance. A 
large number of specially invited guests 
were at the same time hospitably and 
courteously entertained within the house 
by Mr. Laurencel, his lady, and her 
household. After dinner, there was 
music and dancing upon the green, ex- 
hibitions of skillful horsemanship, and 
a variety of amusements, which were 
participated in by the assembled com- 
pany with the utmost zest, and were kept 
up, we understand, until a late hour. 
The day chosen for this festival was the 
day of San Antonio, the patron saint of 
the mine, and the birthday of the little 
Enriqueta, Mr. Laurencel's daughter, the 
more immediate patroness of the same.'' 

Becently, while on a visit to San Jose, 
I visited the newly discovered mines of 
quicksilver, situated about twelve miles 
southward from that city. 

Our road led across the valley to the 
south, until arriving at the Los Capitan- 
cillos Creek, whence it followed that 
stream for the remainder of our journey. 
Upon the banks of this creek, we were 
told, a tribe of Indians flourished in the 
early part of this century. They were 
governed by three chiefs known among 
the Spanish as the Capitancillos, from 
whence the stream took its name. 

From here the broad valley we had 
followed stretches away to the eastward, 
whilst that of the Capitancillos, through 
which our road lay, tends towards the 
mountains in the south, narrowing grad- 
ually, till it winds around the western 
extremity of the hills in which lie the 
three mines of Guadalupe, Enriqueta, 
and New Almaden. Ascending the val- 
ley of the stream, we passed the works 
of the Guadalupe mine, and some two 
miles further on arrived at the Enriqueta. 



BLESSING THE MINE. 



339 



Here we were hospitably received by the 
enterprising director, Mr. H. Lanrencel, 
from whom we chiefly derived the follow- 
ing particulars. 

Veins of qnicksilYer were long since 
known to exist in these hills, but owing 
to the difiBculty of finding sufficient quan- 
titiee of ore to render mining remunera- 
tive, nothing of importance was attempt- 
ed. In November last, Mr. Laurencel 
employed a party of Irish and Mexican 
miners to prospect it more thoroughly, and 
several places were found to be of good 
promise, and opened. One was called 
the Providentia mine, another was placed 
under the protection of Saint Patrick, 
and at length, in January last, the pres- 
ent Enriqueta Mine was found and im- 
medLitely opened. During the winter 
and spring quite a limited number of 
men carried on the work, but the labors 
of these few were sufficient to prove that 
there existed a large deposit. In the be- 
ginning of June the work was advanced 
npon a larger scale, and preparations 
were made to put up the proper machine- 
ry fur reducing the ore. Everything was 
dune with dispatch, and on the spot 
where stood a forest in June, we saw 
now an establishment so far advanced as 
to promise to go into operation, produo> 
tng quicksilver, early in September; 



at work, and as we passed their different 
parties, I broke from the rocky walls a 
number of pieces, which, on coming to 
the light of day, proved to be rich ore. 

The location of the Enriqueta Mine is 
one of considerable beauty. A pictu^ 
esque valley below, with the winding 
stream of the Capitancillos, and pleasant 
groves of oaks and sycamores, looks up 
on one hand to the hill where the mine is 
perched, some three hundred and forty 
or fifty feet above, and on the other to 
the rugged mountain, rising to the height 
of between three and four thousand feet. 
The mine employs about one hundred la- 
borers of all classes ; the families added 
would make a total population already of 
about four hundred persons. A little 
village has sprung up near the works, 
containing many neat cottages, a hotel, 
and several stores. Two lines of stages ^ 
run daily between the mine and the city 
of San Jose. I 

While here I visited also another spot » 
of considerable interest — a gigantic oak, 
standing upon a prominent spur of the 
mountains on the south. It measures 
some thirty-six feet in circumference, and 
is, I doubt not, the largest of its family 
in California. From its commanding 
position and size, it is visible at a great 
distance, still towering high, when all 



good proof of the energy and activity of the trees around it are dwarfed into 



uur California miners. 

The system adopted for the reduction 
of ores, is, I understand, the same that 
was employed by Dr. Ure, many years 
■ince, at the mines of Obermosohel, in 
the Bavarian Rhein Kreis, and which has 
proved to be much superior to the sys- 
tems in practice at the Almaden Mine in 
Spain, and the Idria mine of Austria. 

What the production of this mine will 
be, is impossible to foresee ; but quite a 
little mountain of ore, already taken out, 
and what we saw in our descent into the 
mine, looks well for the future prospect. 
A large number of Mexican miners were 



^ 



appearance of mere underbrush. 

In leaving the Enriqueta Mine, I was 
more than ever reminded of the immense 
mineral resources of our State, and of 
the industry of our people. The works 
of years of older countries were here the 
labor of a few short months only. 

The county of Santa Clara will find in 
this mine a new source of wealth, and 
must rejoice at the diligent prosecution 
of an enterprise so important As an 
old miner, I was gratified at what I saw. 
What the California miner needs is cheap 
quicksilver ; but, as long as its supply is 
limited, it is kept up at exorbitant prices 



340 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



With an increased production and a heal- 
thy competition, we may expect soon to 
see it at such a price as will render it 
hereafter a small item only in the work- 



ing of the quartz mines, so important a 
source of wealth and prosperity to Cali- 
fornia. A. £. 



f *• 



SCENES IN THE MINING DISTEICTS. 



BY J. LAM80N. 



THE HARDSCRABBLE DITCH. 



The above name is no misnomer ; no 
mere fanciful cognomen, without sense 
or meaning, and adopted without reflec- 
tion, or consideration of its import. The 
beauty and euphony (!) of the word may 
have had, and doubtless did have its in- 
f fluenoe with the proprietors in selecting 
it as the title for their ditch and oompa- 
f ny, and which possesses a signifioance 
and expressiveness which every miner 
well understands. 

The owners of this ditch have large 
tracts of mining claims at Emery's Cross- 
ing in Nevada County. A company was 
formed for the purpose of supplying 
these claims with water, and the owners 
of the claims made various proposals to 
take stock in that company, which were 
^all rejected. So they resolved to con- 
struct a ditch for themselves. 

It is not my present purpose to give a 
history of the ditch, with all the trials, 
vexations and difficulties encountered in 
its construction. Suffice it to say, that, 
long before the completion of the work, 
obstacles were continually met and reso- 
lutely overcome. 

Both ditches were commenced at near- 
ly the same time, and both were obsti- 
narely carried forward to their comple- 
tion. It was a contest, however, in which 
one party or the other was destined in 
the end to suffer a signal defeat. One 
ditch would supply every demand for 



water, and therefore both could not be 
supported. The former company had 
money at their command, while the Hard- 
scrabble party were compelled to rely 
mainly on their credit, and their own 
bone and muscle. Their adversaries be- 
lieved they must soon yield the unequal 
contest, and in this belief they obstinate- 
ly rejected every proposal for an accom- 
modation, and for a union of the two 
companies, until the Hardscrabble party 
found it no longer for their interest eith- 
er to offer or to accept of any terms. 
Both ditches were completed, but as the 
Hardscrabble Company were the only 
miners to be supplied vrith water, the 
opposing ditch, as might have been easily 
foreseen, proved a total loss to the pro- 
prietors, and has since gone to decay. 
Such instances of unyielding obstinacy 
and wilful blindness, in the expenditure 
of money, are not unfrequent in the 
mines. 

The principal proprietors of the Hard- 
scrabble Ditch are Charles Whitticer, 
William Reynolds, and Robert West. 
They commenced their work in February. 
1856, and completed it in September of 
the same year, at a cost of twenfy thou- 
sand dollars. The ditch takes its supply 
of water from the Middle Yuba, four miles 
above Emery's Crossing, where it ends. 
The river here, like most of the mountain 
streams of California, is but a series of 
wild rapids in a deep cafion. In a dis- 
tance of two miles, the ditch acquires an 



SCEN^ IN THE MINING DISTRICTS. 



P TBI HABDSCKABLI DITCH. 



rievstion of Dioety-eiftht f«et above the 
rixcr. Here the flame, a* seen in the 
(■gnving, crouM the river. It i> twen- 
ij-foor iDchea wide, twenty iochea deep, 
and Dinety-wght feet high. It is nip- 
ported hj * &ame, the poete of iriiioh 
reel upon an areh of atroug lattdee work, 
eae bnndred and tweo^-ais feet long, the 
lower portion of which is elevated about 
tweotj feet above the river at low water. 
The flgnre eeeo opon the flame is Rob- 
ert WeM, better known aa "Bob." He 
i( the diloh tender ; that ia, he baa to 
pMeandrepaaa along the ditch everjday, 
examine its condition, and make the ne- 
«ea^^ repain. It is not everj one who 
(■a etoea that bridge without feeling a 
■light degree of trepidatioa ; bat Bob, 
having eerved an appreotieeahip before 
tbe nut, Uaveraea the narrow plank that 
onvera the flame with the eame feeling of 
•eearitj that he wonid tread the deck of 
a ship, and often earriea heavy loada over 
it upon hia aboaldera. On one oecaaion 
be tranaported a email oooking-etore in 
tlua BUtnner to lua eabin at the bead of 
the diteb. OioeaiBg the river aafUj, he 



bad nearly reached hia oabin, when, un- ^ 
fortnoately ooming in oontaot with a 
branch of an oak which overhung the ^ 
ditcb. Bob loet hia balance, and was 
pitched headlong into a bed of rocks 
tome ail or eight feet below him. Luck- 
ily, ID the fall, his head intervened be- 
tween the stove and the rocks, by which 
the iron ntenail wsa preserved from de- 
BtrootioD, while the bead, which teemed 
to have been maile of India mbber, re- 
ceived only a alight cut, from which tbe 
blood flowed, nntil the application of k 
warm quid of tobaooo, fi«sh from Bobff 
month, stanched the wonnd, and enabled 
him to resume his joamey, whiob be ao- 
compUshed without further mishap. 

The proprietors of the Hardsorabble 
Ditoh have reaped a very aatJsfactory 
barveet from their inveelment, and ao- 
qnired a handsome and well deeerved 
competency by their laborious industry, 
perseverance and frugality. 

THB ROANOKE TUNNEL. 

A large portion of the mioing, in Ptao- 

er county, is done in tunnel digging. 



nUTCHINOS' CALIFORNIA UAOAZINE. 



K TnNtilL, 

At Iowa Hill, Ro^h Hill, Modods Flat, 
and taaaj other localitiea, the hill sides 
^are perforated in all direotjons. Occa- 
tiooally, the tunnels are run so near the 
' surface, and in such nambera, as to ren- 
der it unsafe to build a house of brick, 
or other heaTj material, over them, from 
its liability to siuk and fall to destruction. 
Od eiploring a tunnel at Roach Hill, 
the Roanoke, in company with J. W, 
Mjrick, one of the proprietors, I discoT- 
ered a pMuliarity which I had not ob- 
served elsewhere, though it may often 
occur. Raving passed in about twelve 
^ndred feet, we oome to a perpendicu- 
at passage, sixtj or eevent; feet high, 
at the bead of which the lead was struck, 
and followed bj horizontal drifts. A 
portion of the passage was oooupied bj 
a ladder, for the use of the workmen ; 
the other part was boarded up, in the 
shape of a long box, to receive the dirt, 
which is brought to it in oars, upon a 
rude railwaj. This box is called a mill. 
A space is left beneatk the box of a suf- 
ficient height to run a car under, and a 
gate is raised, by means of a bar, when 
the dirt runs down, and the ear is loaded 
with very little labor. The gate is then 



FLACBK COUNTT. 

shut, and the car ia run down the inclined 
plane to the end of the track, at the 
mouth of the tnnnel, and " dumped " in- 
to a heap below. A reservoir, supplied 
by a ditch, furnishes water to wash the 
dirt The water is applied by meang of 
a hose, and the heap of dirt is gradually 
washed away, and oarried down a long 
sluice, in which the particles of gold are 
retained, while the earth passes off. 

When the car was loaded, Myrick and 
1 placed ourselves on a step in the rear. 
and crouching down, in order to rvoid 
contact with the roof of the tunnel, whicb 
varied from four to six feet in height, we 
held, or rather hung, by the back of the 
car, when Myric loosened the brake and 
we started off. The inclination of the 
track was so great, that we went onward 
with great velocity. In less than tm 
minutes we passed out of the tunnel to 
the end of the track, and discharged the 
load. These journeys are not wholly 
without danger; for, should an axle 
break, or a wheel run off the track, as 
often happens, the oonsequences might be 
fatal, and are always serious. 



SCENES IN THE MINING DISTRICTS. 



343 



THE WOLVERINE TUNNEL. 

Soon mfter m; viut to the Roanoke 
Tmuxpl, I nude a inbterraneouB jonmej 
Ikromgk the mountain, entering the Paeifio 
•ad Qaeen City Tunnel, on the eut side, 
aad coming oat thronf^h the Wolverine 
Tnnnel oo the west I falloii«d a man 
with ft ear for aboot nine hundred TMt, 
wbcn w« csjne to a mill, similar to that 
deaeribttd in the Roanoke Tunnel, and 
fton which the oar was to receiTe its 
load. Here, taking a lighted candle in 
mj band, I aacended the abaft b; a per- 
pradienlar wooden ladder, eeven^ feet 
high, at the head of which I was met by 
• atordy looking miner, who conducted me 
(o the tUggioga, where a V*ftj of men 



wei« at work. The passage, for a dis- 
tance of fifty or sixty feet, was Tery low, 
narrow and crooked, and we groped oar 
way through it on our bands aod kneee, 
when we came to a downward pitch of 
several feet, when the tunnel assumed its 
uBoal height, and we once more stood 
erecL A little further on, a gate was 
placed across the tnnnel, marking the 
boundary between the dominiooe of the 
oompany on the east side, and those of 
the Wolverine on the weaL We opened 
the gate, and found ourBekea io an old 
passage, throngh which we made our 
way over heaps of earth and atone«. I 
observed that many of the timbera that 
supported the sidee and roof of the tnnnel 
were crushed and broken, by the great 



WOLVKRm TDNKSL, PLACES C 



wm^ of the miperiucnmbent earth, and 
that ports, of great siie and strength, 
had ttMB added, in order to preaerre the 
tnwd. Having paaaed all these difficult 



tangth, to a tolerably lofty and wall pre- 
serrad portion of the tunnel, when my 
gnid* left me to porsae ray way alone. 

A graat ma n y latatml drifts ran off from 
both lidM of the main tunnel, aome of 
wUdi bad been worked out and deserted, 
a»d otben were new and in good preaer- 



vation ; and the picks and shovels, seat- 
tared about them, denoted that they were 
still ooeapied and worked. But I was 
mneh surpriaad not to aes a single human 
being, nor hear a human voice in the 
tnnnel, which, with the exception of my 
own footatepe, and their reverberationa, 
waa aa nlent at the grave. Once, bow- 
ever, I GuMtiad that I beard a low, diatant 
aoand behind me, like the rantding of a 
oar, which might have been brought out 
of one of the lateral drifts I had paMML 



344 



HUTCHINGS' OAUFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



I stopped and listened for its approach, 
with some degree of anxiety and trepi- 
nation, well knowing that if I were over- 
taken in that narrow passage, escape 
would he impossihle, and the result would 

he a fine item for the newspapers, to 

wit: — 

" Terrible Casualty in a ^wnrf.— The 
hody of an unknown man picked* up, hor- 
rihly mangled, &o, — hones crushed, &e* — 
run over hy a loaded car, &c., A;o.— car- 
man's head smashed, &c.^-car, happily, 
uninjured — ^no dirt lostl" 

• My destiny, however, was not yet ac- 
complished. My apprehensions were not 
realized. I continued my walk, hy the 
light of my candle, until a faint glim- 
mering ahead betokened my approach to 
the mouth of the tunnel. Quickening 
my pace, I soon emerged from this sub- 
terranean passage, and stood once mor^in 
f the light of day, breathing freely the pure 
mountain air, but covered with a pro- 
fuse perspiration, the efiects of my walk 
and of the confined atmosphere of the 
under-ground work. 

I now discovered the cause, of the ab- 
sence of laborers in the tunnel. Some 
one of the company had sold his claim. 
Such an event is almost always the occa- 
sion of a treat, which the seller is expect- 
ed to give. Business had been suspended 
for this purpose, and here, in a shop be- 
longing to the company, were assembled 
a party of twenty or thirty Germans, 
making merry in true (German style over 
a keg of lager beer. The beer, for great- 
er convenience, was drawn into a bucket, 
as it was required, and, with a tin pint 
cup, each one helped himself with won- 
derful freedom. I was immediately led 
up to the bucket, and a pint of the beer 
offered me, of which I was not reluctant 
to partake. I did not tarry long with 
them, but returned by a trail, over the 
mountain. The distance through the 
mountain is nearly a mile, and the total 
length of the lateral tunnels, or drifts, 



probably exceed another mile. A little 
hamlet, consisting of twenty or thirty 
small houses, cabins and shops, occupied 
mainly by miners, has been built up 
around the mouth of the tunnel. These 
little mountain homes, scattered promis- 
cuously along the hill side, overlooking 
a deep ravine far beneath them, and these 
again overlooked by the mountains which 
rise above them, form, altogether, a high- 
ly romantic scene. 

UP THE HILL TOGETHER. 

BT G. T. 8PB0AT. 



Up the hill together. 

When our lives were young. 
Hand in hand we wandered on. 

And merrily we sung ; 
Sitting in the orchard, 

'Neath the linden tree — 
There you first spoke words of love — 

Words of love to me. 

Up the hill together. 

In our wedded pride, 
Hand in hand we wandered on. 

Our children by our side. 
Seated in our cottage. 

Listening to their glee, 
I was happy then, and you 

Was all the world to me. 

Up the hill together. 

When the moon was high. 
Plodding on our dusty way, 

Wandered you and I. 
In the sultry vineyards, 

When the days were long, 
How we toiled and cheered each other 

With our harvest song I 

Down the hill together. 

Cheerfully we'll go ; 
Many loved have gone before us. 

Sleeping there, below. 
Sleeping in the valley. 

They their race have trod ; 
We will join them o'er the river, 

On the hOls of God. 



THE HODNTAIN HEAIX>W MASSACRE. 



t UABtACKE AT MOUNTAIIT MBADOITS. 



It win beTom«i)beredUutK>me of the 
hmt-aiokeiung detwla of this terrible 
iiiawiiiii hftTe ftppearod at diSerent timee 
in tbe pnbtio joanak of tb« daj. Bj 
th« kindneM of a friend we are enabled 
to piMW before tbe reader two illastra- 
lione of the eeenee, and in connection 
th«i«witli a brief narratiTe of tbat fear- 
hUj eold-blooded ilaiighter. Perhaps 
wfl oa^t here to remark that the nnmer- 
OTW etateBcnte are lo verj eonfliotiiig 
Aat we find it next to inpoenble to give 
a •Dednet and reliable historr of the lad 
ennt ; bat from the Tarions lotiroea from 
wbene* iulbnnBtion baa been reeared 
the ftOowing wiD be foond newif to ap- 
p r oxim ate to oorreotneee* 

"A tnun of Arkaneaa euigranla, with 
MOM few M ia ao Mi ana, said to nomber 
fect7 men, with tbeir ft»—ti»—, mn on 



thdr mj to California, throngb the Ter- 
ritoij of Utah, and had reached a series 
of graaaj Tallejs, b j the Mormons called 
the Monntain Meadows, where thej n- 
muned Mveral days recruiting their an- 
imals. On the night of September (Hh, 
not suspecting way danger, as nsaal thej 
qnietl J retired to rest, little dreaming of 
the dreadfnl fate awaiting and soon to 
orertake them. On the morning of the 
10th, as with their wives and families, 
they stood aronod their camp-ftres pass- 
ing the oongnUDlations of the morning, 
thej were eoddenly fired apon from an 
amboah, and at the Bret discharge Utoen 
of the best men are said to have bU«n 
dead or mortally wmaded. To seek tbe 
rftdter of their eomd was bat the work 
of a mmnant, bat there they Iband bat 
lissited protection. 

" To enable yoa to appreciate ftally Ite 
danger of tbeir positiaD, I must give ft 
brief deseriptMn of the groond. IlM 



346 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



encampment, which consisted of a num- 
ber of tents, and a corral of forty wagons, 
and ambulances, lay on the west bank of, 
and eight or ten yards distant from, a 
large spring in a deep ravine running 
southward ; another ravine, also, branch- 
ing from this, and facing the camp on 
the southwest ; overlooking them on the 
northwest, and within rifle-shot, rises a 
large mound commanding the corral, up- 
on which parapets of stone, with loop- 
holes, have been built. Yet another ra- 
vine, larger and deeper, faces them on 
the east, which could be entered vrithout 
exposure from the south and far end. 
Having crept into these shelters during 
the darkness of the night, the cowardly 
assailants fired upon their unsuspecting 
victims, thus making a beginning to the 
most brutal butchery ever perpetrated on 
this continent. 

' ' Surrounded by superior numbers, and 
by an unseen foe, we ore told the little 
party stood a siege within the corral of 
several days, sinking their wagon-wheels 
in the ground, and during the darkness 
of night digging trenches, within which 
to shelter their wives and children. A 
large spring of cool water bubbled up 
from the sand a few yards from them, but 
deep down in the ravine, and so well 
protected that certain death marked the 
trail of all who had dared approach it. 
The wounded were dying of thirst ; the 
burning brow and parched lip marked 
the delirium of fever ; they tossed from 
side to side with anguish; the sweet 
sound of the water, as it murmured 
along its pebbly bed, served but to height- 
en their keenest suffering. But what all 
this to the pang of leaving to a cruel fate 
their helpless children? Some of the 
little ones, who though too young to remem- 
ber in after years, tell us that they stood 
by their parents, and pulled the arrows 
fiom their bleeding wounds. 

"Long had the brave band held to- 
gether ; bat the cries of the wounded 



sufferers must prevail. For the first 
time, they are (by four Mormons), offer* 
ed their lives if they will lay dovrn their 
arms, and gladly they avail themselvee 
of the proffered mercy. Within a few 
hundred yards of the corral faith is bro- 
ken. Disarmed and helpless, they are 
fallen upon and massacred in cold blood. 
The savages, who had been driven to the 
hills, are again called down to what was 
denominated the 'job,' which more thaa 
savage brutality had begun. 

" Women and children are now all that 
remain. Upon these, some of whom had 
been violated by the Mormon leaders, the 
savage expends his hoarded vengeance. 
By a Mormon who has now escaped the 
threats of the Church we are told that 
the helpless children clung around the 
knees of the savages, offering themselves 
as slaves ; but with fiendish laughter at 
their cruel tortures, knives were thrust 
into their bodies, the scalp torn from 
their heads, and their throats out from 
ear to ear. 

''To-day, I ride by them, but no word 
of friendly greeting falls upon my ear, 
no face meets me with a smile of recog- 
nition; the empty sockets from their 
ghastly skulls tell me a tale of horror 
and of blood. On every side around me 
for the space of a mile lie the remains of 
carcasses dismembered by wild beasts ; 
bones, left for nearly two years unburied. 
bleached in the elements of the mountain 
wilds, gnawed by the hungry wolf, bro> 
ken and hardly to be recognized. Qar- 
ments of babes and little ones, faded and 
torn, fluttering from each ragged bush* 
from which the wurble of the songster of 
the desert sounds as mockery. Human 
hair, once falling in glossy ringlets around 
childhood's brow or virtue's form, now 
strewing the plain in masses, matted, and 
mingling with the musty mould. To-day 
in one grave, I have buried the bones and 
skulls of twelve women and children, 
pierced with the fatal ball or shattered 



THB MOUNTAIN MEADOWS MASSACRE. 



347 



with the KiB. In Another the ebattered 
nlice of eighteen men, eod jet muij 
Kora awftit ibmr gloom; resting-place. 

I b>Te convereed with the ladiuu en* 
gnged in thia maauare. They say that 
th«j but obejed the command of Brigham 
Tonng, aent b; letter, aa aoldiera obej 
tb« command of their chief; that the 
Uormoni were not onlj the instigators 
bat the moat active participants id the 
orime; th^Uonnonsled tbeattack, took 
poaaeaaion of the spoil ; that mach of that 
•poil still remains with them ; and still 
morei, was sold at the tithing office of the 

Saeh facta can and will be proved by 
legal testimony. Sixteen children, vary- 
iag from two to nine years of age, have 
been reoovered from the Mormona. These 
oodld not be indnced to ntter a word nnUl 
■^nred that they were out of the hands 
of the Hormone and safe in the hands of 
tbe Americana Then their tale ii 
o(»eonant with itself that it cannot be 
doabted. Innocence baa in truth spoki 
Gnilt baa fled to the monntains. The 
tisM faat approaches ithen justice shall 
be laid to the line, and righleouaDeea to 
tbe plummet." 

On sending a statement to Utah Terri- 
tory, in April laat, Brigadier General 
CIsrha directed the officer in eommand, 
M^or J. n. Carleton, 1st Dragoons, to 
collect and decently to bnry tbe remaine 
of the Tictima of the Honntain Meadow 



Arriving at Mountain Meadows, Uiy. 
Carleton foond that the Oeneral'a wiahes 
had been in part anticipated by Captain 
B- Campbell, 2nd Dragoons, who, "on 
hie way down." aays Mqor Carleton, 
"paned thia spot, and before ray arrival 
had caused U be oolleoted and buried the 
booea of twenty-eix of the vietima." 

Major Carleton eontinnesi "On the 
aOth inatant, I took a wagon and a party 



least a mile back from the road that leads 
to Hamblin'a house. Ilunblin, himself 
shewed Sergeant Frits, of my party, a 
epot on the right hand side of tbe road 
where be had parUally covered np a great 
many of the bones. These were collect- 
ed, and a large number of others on the 
left hand side of the road, up the slope 
of the hill, and in tbe ravines ai^ among 
the bushes. I gathered many ivthe dis- 
jointed bones of thirty-four persons. The 
number could easily be told by the num- 
ber of pairs of shoulderblades, and by 
lower jaws, skulls, and parts of skulla, 
etc., etc These, with the remains of 
two others, gotten in a ravine to the east 
spring, where they had been interred at 



TBI HOHDHUIT. 

but little depth— thirty-four in all— I 
grave on the northern aide of 
the ditch. Around and above this graven 
I caused to be built, of loose granitv 
atones, hauled from the neighboring bille, 
rude monument, eonical in form, and 
fifty feet in circumference at the baae and 
twelve feet in height. This ia surmount- 
ed by a croaa, hewn from red oedar wood. 
From the ground to the top of the oroM 
ie twenty-foar feet. On the traneveree 
part of the croaa, facing towards the 
north, is an inscription carved deeply in 
tbe wood : 



of men and made a thorough search for „ vbhqemCE 18 WHE : I WILL MPAT 
MA«n amongst the sage bnahee for at j SAITH THE LOED." 



348 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



" And on a rude slab of granite, set in 
the earth and leaning against the north* 
em base of the monument, there are cut 
the following words: 

M£ Ra 

120 Men, Wameriy and ChUdrenf 

WBRJB MA8SACBBD IN COLD BLOOO, BAALT 
IN SlPT., 1857. 

tkey werejrom Arkansas. 

" I observed that nearly every skull I 
saw, had been shot through with rifle or 
revolver bullets. I did not see one that 
had been * broken in vrith stones.' Doc- 
tor Brewer showed me one, that probably 
of a boy of eighteen, which had been 
fractured and split, doubtless by two 
blows of a bowie knife, or other instru- 
ment of that character. 

" I saw several bones of what must 
have been very small children. Doctor 
Brewer says, from what he saw, he thinks 
some infants were butchered. The moth- 
ers, doubtless, had these in their arms, 
and the same shot, or blow, may have 
deprived both of life. 

" The scene of the massacre, even at 
this late day, was horrible to look upon. 
Women's hair, in detached locks, and in 
masses, hung to the sage bushes and was 
strewn over the ground in many places. 
Parts of little children's dresses, and of 
female costume, dangled from the shrub- 
bery, or lay scattered about ; and among 
these, here and there, on every hand, for 
at least a mile in the direction of the 
road, by two miles east and west, there 
gleamed, bleached white by the weather, 
the skulls and other bones of those who 
had suffered. A glance into the wagon, 
where these had been collected, revealed 
a sight which can never be forgotten." 

The Mormons set up the plea that some 
of this party poisoned a spring, by which 
several persons and some stock fell vic- 
tims. But that so large an amount of 
poison oonld be in the possession of an 
emigrant trun b most improbable. On 



the other hand it seems scarcely probable 
that plunder alone could be a sufficient 
inducement to the murderers to sacrifice 
so great a number of human lives. In- 
deed, the cause of this wholesale slaugh- 
ter is to this hour shrouded in mystery. 
Major Carlton most probably knows it 
better than any other man, and we much 
regret that we have not his entire and 
candid report. That it was committed 
by Mormons, uded by Indians, there can 
be no doubt. Judge Oradlebaugh thus 
brings the matter home to them in his 
charge to the Qrand Jury of Provo City, 
in March last : 

** I may mention to you the massacre 
at the Mountain Meadows. In that mas- 
sacre a whole train was cut off, except a 
few children, who were too young to give 
evidence in court. It has been said that 
this offence was committed by the Indians. 
In committing such an outrage, Indians 
would not so discriminate as to save only 
such children as would be unable to give 
testimony of the transaction in a court 
of j ustice. In a eeneral slaughter, if any 
were to be saved by Indians, they would 
have been most likely those persons who 
would give less trouble than mfants. But 
the fact is, there were others there en- 
gaged in that horrible crime. 

"A large organized body of white per- 
sons is to DC seen leaving Uedar Citj late 
in the evening, all armed, travelmg in 
wagons and on horseback, under the 
guidance and direction of the prominent 
men of that place. The object of their 
mission is a secret to all but those en- 
gaged in it. To all others the movement 
IS shrouded in mystery. They are met 
bv another organized band from the town 
of Harmony. The two bands are consol- 
idated. Speeches are made to them hj 
their desperate leaders in regard to their 
mission. They proceed in Uie direction 
of the Mountain Meadows. In two or 
three days they may be seen returning 
from that direction, bearing with them an 
immense amount of proper^, consisting 
of mules, horses, cattle and wagons, as 
the spoils of their nefarious expedition. 
Out of a train of one hundred and forty 
persons, fifteen infants alone remain, who 
are too young to tell the sad story. That 
Indians were engaged in it there is no 



CLEAR LAKE. 



doabt ; bat thej were incited to engage 
in it b; white men, worte thui demons. 

" I micfat give jou the dudm of the 
leading white peraona engaged, but pra- 
dence diotatee that I should not. It is 
laii that the Chief Kanosb waa there. If 



so he ia amenable to law, and liable to 
be pnaisbed. The ludiane complain that 
in the division of the apoila thej did not 
^t th«t share — that their white brothera 
in crime did not divide eqnallj with 
them, but gave them the refuae." 



CLiAK UXB, raoM tbk kidoi kiab t 



CLEAR LAKE. 

The aboTo exoellent sketch of this 
moontain-bonnd sheet of water, has been { 
kindly famished na bj Hr. Geo. Tirrell, 
an artiat of great merit, who has spent 
nearly three years in picturing on canvas 
the beantifnl scenes of California. As 
we never had the pleasure of seeing this 
remarkable lake, and as it has been well 
and fuUy described in our ootemporary, 
the Betperian, we take pleasnie in tran- 
KcritMng the article entire : 

This beautifal Alpine sheet of water, 
overshadowed and hidden, ao to epeak, 
by surrounding peaks of the ooaatmonn- 
tain, is one of the maiiv inviting locali- 
ties of our Stale, and aeserves, as it is 
destined to be, far better known than it 
if at preaent. To the tourist, in search 
of the picturesque and sublime, the lakes 
of Switserland could not present a more 
attractive feature. It is about fifty miles 
friHn Napa City, in a direction a little 
weat of north. The rente from the lat- 
ter plaea to the lake, paesee over alter- 
nal* ranges of monntains and interven- 



ing valleys, presenting a variety of scene- 
ry (that would well repay the journey, 
even without the crowning view of one of 
the greatest natural ounosities of Cali- 
fornia. Clear Lake is an enormous foun- 
tain, having no supply tributaries, aave 
the numerous spring, man^ of thero 
boiling hot, rising on its margin and per- 
haps welling np from ita bottom. A 
small river runs from it called Cache 
Creek, which, after pursaing a south- 
easterly oanrse about Alij milee, enters 
the Sacramento Valley, and ia lost among 
the lagoons that border the river. The 
lake ia near the axis or divide of the coast 
moontains, on their eastern slope, and 
has an elevation of twelve or fourteen 
hundred feet above the sea tevet. The 
shape is irregular, and extends N. W. 
from ita outlet, in length, about twenty- 
five miles. The breadth ia variable ; in 
traversing the lake from the outlet of 



distance of ten or twelve miles, 
it is suddenly narrowed to leM than half 
a mile; beyond this, the shores recede 
away from each other, to meet wain in 
the dialanoe, inclosing a circular basin of 
twelve miles in diameter ; this portiui is 



350 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



known as Big Lake, in contradistinction 
to the part east of the strait, which is 
called "Lower Lake.'' On the south 
side of the Big Lake is Big Valley, a 
fertile plain of considerable extent, bound- 
ed on the south by a mountain ridge that 
divides it from the waters of the Pluton 
river, tributary to Russian river. The 
portion of the lake east of the straits, is 
crowded by the mountains, which spring 
up from the water's edge. Towards the 
eastern extremity, however, they recede, 
and a valley is formed that extends five 
or six miles beyond the lake, down Cache 
Creek. The peculiar, sinuous shore line, 
gives rise to numerous little bays and 
harbors, where the light canoes of the 
Indians are anchored, when their dusky 
owners rest from their work of catching 
fish, or killing wild fowl, with which the 
water abounds. Several beautiful little 
islands, elevated but a few feet above the 
water, shaded with broad-spreading, ever- 

freen oaks^-of the extent of from one to 
fteen acres, add much to the picturesque 
effect. To these secluded spots the In- 
dians of the neighboring valleys have re- 
treated ; and the wreck of a tribe that, 
but a few years ago, was counted by 
thousands, now finds ample room for its 
diminished numbers on these isolated 
specks of land. They are a harmless 
and inoffensive people, and seem to have 
no difficulty with the whites. They live 
abundantly on fish and fowl, and the only 
dread they seem to have, is that they may 
be forced to go to some Government Res- 
ervation. 

On the north side the mountains rise 
from the immediate margin nearly the 
entire length of the lake, leaving onlv a 
narrow pathway near the water. A few 
little vallev coves of exceedingly fertile 
soil, lie hid in the folds of the mountain, 
and open to the lake their only outlet. 
The largest of these is called " toon Val- 
ley," and contains about fifty acres. 
With this exception the north shore is 
bold and precipitous. The water has a 
depth of fifty or sixty feet to within a few 
yards of the land, all around the north- 
ern side ; towards the eastern extremity 
there are, however, several little bays 
with shelving shores and bottoms. la 
one of these bays, numerous springs of 
boiling hot water make their way up 
through the fissures of the smooth rock 
bottom, extending from the margin of the 
water to a distance of two or three hun- 
dred feet into the lake, spreading along 



the shore to twice that distance, and form- 
ing one of the most delightful bathing 
places imaginable. You can have a bath 
of almost any temperature, by getting 
nearer or farther from one of the hot jets. 
Some caution is, however, requisite, as I 
found to my cost, by placing my foot, 
when wading about^ over one of these 
jets. Several such places are observable, 
where hot water, accompanied with gas, 
issues from round openings in the rocks. 
In one place in the centre of the lake, I 
found gas bubbles, in large quantities, 
constantly agitating the surface, over an 
extent of hundreds of acres. The water 
was seventy-five feet deep, and although 
the surface presented no increase of tem- 
perature, I imagine the bottom was a lo- 
cality of hot springs, such as I observed 
along the shore in shallow water. Some 
of these springs seem to be pure water, 
others are highly impremated with min- 
eral matters. The whole neighborhood 
abounds with mineral springs, generally 
hot, and the volcanic aspect of the coun- 
try gives reason to believe that subterra- 
nean fires are yet active at no great depth 
below. 

THE CITY OF STOCKTON. 



This flourishing commercial city is sit- 
uated in the valley of the San Joaquin, 
at the head of a deep navigable slough 
or arm of the San Joaquin river, about 
three miles from its junction with that 
stream. The luxuriant foliage of the 
trees and shrubs impress the stranger 
with the great fertility of the soil ; and 
the unusually large number of windmills 
of the manner of irrigation. So marked 
a feature as the latter has secured to the 
locality the cognomen of *Uhe City of 
Windmills." 

The land upon which the city stands is 
part of a grant made by Gov. Michelto- 
rena to Capt. C. M. Weber and Mr. Gul- 
nac, in 1844, and who most probably 
were the first white settlers in the valley 
of the San Joaqdin ; although some Ca- 
nadian Frenchmen in the employ of the 
Hudson Bay Co. spent several hunting 
seasons here, commencing as early as 
1834. 



CITY OF STOCKTON. 



351 



In 1813 an exploring expedition under 
Lienl. Gabriel Morago yisited this valley, 
and gave it its present name — ^the former 
one being "Yalle de los Tulares/' or 
Valley of Rusbes. At that time it was 
occupied by a large and formidable tribe 
of Indians, called the Yaohicumnes, 
which in after times was for the most 
part captured and sent to the Missions 
Dolores and San Jose, or decimated by 
the nnall pox, and now is nearly extinct 
Under the maddening influence of their 
losses by death from that fatal disease, 
they rose upon the whites, burned their 
buildings and killed their stock, and 
forced them to take shelter at the Mis- 
sions. 

In 1846, Mr. Weber, reinforced by a 
number of emigrants, renewed his efforts 
to form a settlement ; but the war break- 
ing out, compelled him to seek refuge in 
the larger settlements, uotil the Bear flag 
was hoisted, when Capt. Weber, from his 
knowledge of the country, and the devo- 
tedness of those who had placed them- 
selTee under his command, was able to 
render iuTalnable aid to the American 
cause. 

When the war was concluded, in 1848, 
another and successful attempt was made 
tu establish a prosperous settlement here, 
bat upon the discovery of gold it was 
agiuD nearly deserted. 

Several cargoes of goods having ar- 
rived from San Francisco, for land trans- 
portation to the southern mines, were 
soggestive of the importance of this spot I 
for the foundation of a city, when cloth 
tents and houses sprung up as if by ma- 
gic. On the 23d of December, 1849, a 
fire broke out for the first time, and the 
•« linen city," as it was then called, was 
avrept away, causing a loss of about 
$200,000. Almost before the ruins had 
ceased smouldering, a new and cleaner 
** linen city," with a few wooden build- 
ings, was erected in its place. In the 
following spring a large proportion of 



the cloth houses gave place to wooden 
structures; and, being now in steam 
communication with San Francisco, the 
new city began to grow substantially in 
importance. 

On the 30th of March, 1850, the first 
weekly Stockton newspaper was publish- 
ed by Radcliffe and White, conducted by 
Mr. John White. 

On the same day the first theatrical 
performance was given, in the Assembly 
Room of the Stockton House, by Messrs. 
Bingham and Fury. 

On the 13th of May following, the first 
election was held — the population then 
numbering about 2,400. 

June 26th, a Fire Department was or- 
ganized, and J. £. Nuttman elected 
Chief Engineer. 

On the 25th of the following month, 
an order was received from the County 
Court, incorporating the City of Stock- 
ton, and authorizing the election of offi- 
cers. On the 1st of August, 1850, an 
election for municipal officers was held, 
when seven hundred votes were polled, 
with the following result : Mayor, Sam- 
uel Purdy; Recorder, C. M. Teak; City 
Attorney, Henry A. Crabb; Treasurer, 
Gto. D. Brush ; Assessor, C. Edmonson ; 
Marshal, T. S. Lubbock. 

On the 6th of May, 1851, a fire broke 
out that nearly destroyed the whole city, 
at a loss of $1,500,000. After this con- 
flagration a large number of brick build- 
ings were erected. 

In 1852, steps were taken to build a 
City Hall ; and, about the same time, the 
south wing of what is now the State 
Asylum for the Insane, was erected as a 
General Hospital ; but which was abol- 
ished in 1853, and the Insane Asylum 
formed into a distinct institution by an 
act of the Legislature. In 1854 the cen- 
tral building was added, and in 1855 the 
kitchen, bakery, dining-rooms and bath- 
rooms were also added. 
On the 1st of February, 1856, another 



352 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



fire destroyed property to the amount of 
about $60,000 ; and on the 30th of July 
following, by the same cause, about $40,- 
000 worth of property was swept away. 

Of churches there is an Episcopal, 
Presbyterian, Methodist Episcopal, Cath- 
olic, Methodist Episcopal South, First 
and Second Baptist, Jewish Synagogue, 
German Methodist, and African Metho- 
dist. 

There are two daily newspapers pub- 
lished here, the "San Joaquin Republi- 
can," Conley & Patrick, proprietors; 
and the *' Stockton Daily Argus," pub- 
lished by Wm. Biven. Each of these 
issue a weekly edition. 

Of Public Schools, there are four — 
two Grammar and two Primary— in which 
there are about two hundred scholars in 
daily attendance, and four teachers, one 
to each school. There are also four pri- 
vate Seminaries — Dr. Collins', Dr. Hunt's, 
Miss Bond's, and Mrs. Gates', 

Stockton can boast of having the deep- 
est artesian well in the State, which is 
1002 feet in depth, and which throws out 
250 gallons of water per minute, 15,000 
per hour, and 360,000 gallons every twen- 
ty-four hours, to the height of eleven 
feet above the plain, and nine feet above 
the city grade. In sinking this well, 
ninety-six different stratas of loam, clay, 
mica, green sandstone, pebbles, &c., were 
passed through. 340 feet from the sur- 
face, a redwood stump was found, imbed- 
ded in sand from whence a stream of 
water issued to the top. The tempera- 
ture of the water is 77" Fahrenheit— the 
atmosphere there being only 60^. The 
cost of this well wa^ $10,000. 

Several stages leave daily for different 

sections in the mines. 

One of the principal features connect- 
ed with the commerce of this city, is the 
number of large freight wagons, laden 
for the mines ; these have, not inappro- 

Eriately, been denominated "Prairie 
ohooners," and "Steamboats of the 
Plains." Some of these have carried as 
high as 32,000 pounds of freight 



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AGNES EMERSON. 



353 



AGNES EMERSON. 
A Ihle of the Revolution, 

BT QORDOK ORSKNLAW. 
■POOB FIBST^THS AMBRIOAN REYOLUTION. 



[CoDtlnaed from p&ge 819.] 



CHAPTXR IZ. 

The escape from New York, 

** Gclttiif the boato out, being well airare 
Thftt aUght boat wUl Uve in % roogh ma, 
Ualew irlth broken dote beneath her lee.*' 

Btbov. 

Lbatino Major Williams and the pa- 
tridan officer to their anenviable refleo- 
tions, let us returo to William Emerson, 
whom we left parting with Harrison at 
the end of the lane, described as being 
in the rear of his garden. 

Retracing his steps to the gate opposite 
the back entrance of his own house, he 
was admitted into the enclosare by his 
negro Sam, who, carefully securing the 
bolts, nshered him into the kitchen of 
the shipwright's house. Here he found 
awaiting him, Reid, the mechanic him- 
nelf, and two others. The elder had the 
appearance of a fisherman, which indeed 
he was, and one of the many spies at 
that time in the interest of the continen- 
tala. Stephen, who was a Swede by 
birth, and by the royalist party regarded 
as a reckless, devil-may-care fellow, seem- 
ed perfectly indifferent as to who ruled 
the revolted colonies, so that he but found 
a ready market for his fish. In the lat- 
ter part of their surmise, they were tol- 
erably correct, but in the former they 
were completely at fault. Avarice was 
his leading characteristic. Beneath a 
rollicking exterior, he concealed an 
amount of cunning that completely de- 
ceived the British officials. Ue had Sir 
Henry Clinton's permission to follow his 
avocation within certain limits ; and, al- 
though he never passed the prescribed 
lioandaries, he had managed to establish a 
constant communication with certain of 



the American authorities. The payment 
he received was large, and his fox-like 
cunning had heretofore blinded suspicion, 
so that he was rapidly acquiring the 
means of independence. 

The other person was a young Ameri- 
can, a warm personal friend of Emerson, 
who was evidentiy impatient. 

"William," said he, <*I have been 
anxious for your arrival, and feared some- 
thing had occurred to detain you. Here 
is Stephen, too, who says he wishes to 
speak to you privately ; you had better 
go into the other room with him for a 
few moments, for I, too, must then claim 
your attention.'' 

" Yes, sir, and as I am in a hurry, I 
wish you would come at once," and lead- 
ing the way into an adjoining apartment, 
the fisherman carefully closed the door. 
"Now, sir," continued he, "have you 
brought the money agreed upon." 

" Tes," answered Emerson. 

"Then, on this Testament swear that, 
under no circumstances, you will ever 
tell from whom you received this paper." 

Emerson hesitated. " But my friends 
who are here, how can I keep it from 
them 7 " 

" Mr. Emerson, a secret, when more 
than two know it, is never safe ; you may 
make what statement you choose to them, 
but you must swear not even to hint that 
you got it from me, either now or here- 
after; if not, I keep it and you keep your 
money, that's all. 

Finding that he could in no other way 
obtain what he desired, William made 
the necessary asseveration. 

"There is the pass," said Stephen, 
" you had better let your friends think 
you brought it here with you. Ah ! I 
see that it is more than you expected ; 
I snppoee that you would not grudge an- 
other hundred dollars." 

" No, no, I will not ; here is the mon- 
ey," and he placed six hundred dollars 
in the hands of the fisherman, who, with 



354 



HUTCniNGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



a hasty good-nigbt, passed through the 
kitchen and into his boat at the riyer's 
side. 

" You have not a moment to lose/' said 
Emerson's friend, as soon as Stephen was 
fairly gone ; '* Reid, here, says the flood 
tide makes in immediately ; fortunately, 
it is Tery dark, and he has made every 
preparation. You must be far above 
Harlem to-night, for if you are in New 
York to-morrow, you may be sure that 
you will be a prisoner. What on earth 
made you tell Dutch Stephen to come 
here? — we were in continual fear of 
something betraying our plans.'' 

"I was compelled," answered Emer^ 
son, ** to tell him to meet me here, for he 
positively refused to come to my house, 
although I had business with him, so I 
named this, as the only place I could see 
him before I left." 

Reid, the shipwright, now proceeded 
to explain the arrangements which he had 
made for the departure and escape of 
young Emerson.* 

" The boat," said he, " is ready under 
my boat house ; she is full of water, as I 
explained to you she would be ; a piece 
of iron ballast is fixed in her bottom, to 
steady her, and cork all round the gun- 
wale, to give necessary buoyancy; a 
small paddle will enable you to scull into 
the centre of the stream, but this you 
must do very watchfully and slowly. In 
sculling up stream, as opportunity offers, 
make towards the Jersey side. Taking 
the flood with you, you will have it for 
six hours, till nearly daylight. At first 
dawn, your safest plan is to land, before 
you can be seen by the British man-of- 
war in Tappan Bay." 

Hastily attiring himself in a rougher 
suit of clothes, Emerson proceeded to the 
boat house, in company with his friend 

* NOTB. — ^The method of escape from New York, 
preeliely m here described, wm an actual occurrence 
in 1T78, Mr. John Newton, Jr., being the gentleman, 
who reached the Hl^^lands in safety. 



and the shipwright, who carried a dark 
lantern. 

This boat house was built over a aort 
of dock, in which was floating a small 
ship's boat, sunk nearly even with the 
water's edge. Lashed over her were two 
or three large branches of trees, such as 
Harrison had seen Sam carrying into 
Reid's premises. 

At the distance of a few yards, the 
whole apparatus would have the ap- 
pearance of a floating tree, or portion of 
one, drifting with the tide. EmersoD, 
on embarking, had consequently to im- 
merse the lower half of his body in the 
water, with which the boat was filled ; 
and, mild as the season still was, this 
was by no means agreeable. 

A signal from Sam, who was outside, 
that the young flood was now running, 
and that no boats were within sight, wa? 
responded to by a fervent farewell, and 
the removal of the lantern. The ship- 
wright then gently opened the water 
gate of the boat house, and Emerson, 
with a few cautious strokes of his scul- 
ling paddle, was floating on the bosom of 
the Hudson. The night was intensely 
dark, and in a few moments no trace of 
him was visible to his friends. 

Twice was he nearly discovered. First, 
by a party of officers, coming on shore 
from the transport recently arrived. 
They approached close enough to pull a 
handfuU of leaves from the branches, 
and to speculate how far the ebb tide 
had brought it down, before the flood re- 
versed its progress. Secondly, by one 
of the man-of-war guard boats. " What 
is that?" cried the midshipman, holding 
up a lantern he had in the stern-sheets. 
"Only part of a tree, blown down by 
last night's gale, I suppose, sir," said the 
stroke-oarsman, brushing the leaves with 
the end of his oar. Thanks to the thick- 
ness of the foliage, and the dimness of 
the light, the young officer was easily 
satisfied ; and great was the relief of the 



AGNES EMERSON. 



355 



(iijntiTe on hearing the welcome order, 
"GiTe way, my lads/' 

At the end of three hours, despite 
sandry drams from his hrandy flask, 
Emerson became so bennmbed that he 
determined to bear it no longer. Care- 
fully releasing the branches of the trees, 
he poshed them over the stern of the 
boat. He now fixed on the washboards, 
supplied by the thonghtful Reid, and 
which fitted tightly, and commenced 
bailing the boat oat. This occupied him 
a considerable time, but it being com- 
pleted, he commenced palling towards 
the west side of the river. He judged 
himself by this time, to be above Man- 
hattan Island, and on recognising the 
land, as he approached close to the Jer- 
sey side, he found that he was even high- 
er up than he expected. 

Laying in his oars, he opened a tin 
box, secured upon the foremost thwart of 
the boat, and took from it dry clothes, 
stockings and boots. Having thoroughly 
dried himself with a rough towel, he 
donned these, recommenced rowing brisk- 
ly, and soon restored circulation to his 
bennmbed limbs. 

For three hours more he continued 
polling, till he had, with the aid of the 
tide, reached the lower end of Tappan 
Bay; when re-crossing the river, just as 
the dawn was broadening into daylight, 
he landed a short distance below Tany- 
town. 

Threading his way carefully, to avoid, 
if possible, interruption, and to pass 
more to the eastward, he accomplished 
about four miles, and approached a farm 
house to seek refreshments. 

Here he suddenly encountered a lieu- 
tenant in command of a troop uf British 
horse, who authoritatively and rudely 
demanded his business, name and desti- 
nation. 

*'My name, sir," replied he, "can 
matter but little to you ; my destination 
aod business you can enquire st your 



leisure, though perhaps more politely, 
from the writer of this." 

With these words, Emerson handed 
the officer the paper he had received from 
the spy fisherman. 

"I did not wish to be rude," said the 
lieutenant, as soon as his eye fell on the 
well known signature of the British com- 
mandeMn-chief; '*his excellency, I ob- 
serve, does not mention your name in 
this, possibly for good reasons; but I 
should like to be satisfied as to your hav- 
ing honestly obtained it — in a word, if 
it refers to yon at all." 

''Ton can easily ascertain that," coolly 
answered Emerson, '* by detaining me, 
and sending to New York ; but if you 
do so, the responsibility of my delay, on 
the business described there as urgent, 
will rest with yourself." 

The Englishman pondered a moment 
or two, and handing back the paper, 
said: 

"Well, if anything is wrong, it is 
Sir Henry Clinton's own fault. I shall 
not detain yon.' 



>» 



CHAPTER X. 

Death, — Separatum, 

"Thon koow'st *tlfl common ; all Uiai lire mutt die, 
pMtliif Uiroogh natare to eternity.'* 

[taAursASS. 

A few miles west from the mouth of 
the Croton river, where the hilli<, which 
mark the approach to the Highlands, 
render the scenery so beautiful, stood an 
old farm-house called Bokelen. It had 
formerly been the residence and prnpe rty 
of a Dutch emigrant, called Van Bokelen, 
but had many years before been purchan- 
ed by Mr. Reid, the husband of Agnes' 
maternal aunt, her mother's half-sister. 
At his death he bequeathed it to the wid- 
ow, but to revert to their two sons on her 
demise. 

The farm, which was extensive and 
valuable, had originally borne the name 
of its first proprietor ; but the Van had 



356 



HUTCHINQS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



gradually been disused, and it was, as 
we have said, now known as Bokelen, 

Mrs. Reid's family differences were 
but further proof of the horrors attend- 
ant upon civil war ; though herself an 
ardent loyalist, her two sons had both 
joined the American army, and might at 
any moment, be brought in hand to hand 
contest with her brother, a Migor in the 
British army. 

The position of her sons, and her dose 
relationship to Migor Walters, were, how- 
ever, safeguards to the farm ; and, con- 
sequently, none of her stock, or produce, 
had ever been molested by the foraging 
parties who so frequently drove off the 
cattle of those farmers who were of the 
opposite party. 

The neighborhood was, as is known, 
by sort of common consent, considered a 
kind of neutral ground. Occasionally, 
nevertheless, the ill-disciplined American 
auxiliaries, called the Skinners, or the 
equally ill-regulated British mercenaries, 
known as the Cowboys, robbed and pil- 
laged the community in a manner which 
no regular troops, properly officered, would 
ever be guilty of. 

It was the afternoon of the day afler 
the departure of Agnes from New York, 
that the horses of the escort which she 
had accompanied were picketed in the 
yard of Bokelen farm. 

Captain Campbell, the commander of 
the troop, was issuing instructions to his 
men for the night, and also performing 
those duties which should, strictly, have 
devolved upon his junior, whom his 
thoughtfulness had, on this occasion, in- 
duced him to excuse. Five or six Amer- 
can officers, who were to be exchanged 
about ten miles off, were lounging around 
the premises, passing the time by dis- 
cussing the all-engrossing topic of the 
day, until the supper, in preparation, 
should be announced. 

In an upper room, looking towards tlie 
west, was a venerable and aged man, the 



sands of whose life were evidently nearly 
run. The bed on which he lay was drawn 
towards the window; and, propped up 
by pillows, he gaied upon his beloved 
daughter, as she knelt beside him with 
her hand clasped in his. 

Near the bed stood George Harrison 
and William Emerson, (who, rfler his 
escape, had reached Bokelen the previous 
day), and also Mrs. Reid and a senrant. 

On a table, near by, was bread and 
wine, and beside it a clergyman in his 
surplice. 

** Verily, verily I say unto you, he thai 
heareth my word and believeth on him that 
sent me, haih everlasting life, and shall 
not come into condemnaHon, but ispcused 
from death unto life" 

After this chapter had been read, the 
communion was taken by all present^ and 
then the sick man was, at his desire, left 
alone with his children and Harrison. 

Turning himself towards George he 
addressed him: — '*This letter from my 
daughter," touching one on the bed, "in- 
formed me two days ago of your love for 
her — on my son's arrival yesterday he told 
me much of you, much in your favor. To 
thwart the dearest wishes of my daugh- 
ter is not in my nature. Consent to 
her marriage, whilst this unhappy war 
continues, I cannot. You are engaged on 
the side of our king, whose cause both my 
son and daughter are opposed to. From 
such a union nothing but misery could 
result. For myself, my end is approach- 
ing, I feel that I never shall see yonder 
sun set again. If you will promise not 
to wed her until this contest is ended, 
Agnes has my freest permission to then 
do as she pleases. I have full confidence 
from her right principle that she will not 
marry you should you prove unworthy. 
I would I could live to know you better, 
but such is not God's will, nor can I dis- 
cuss further the difficulties surrounding 
you, for I have not strength. Do your 
duty as a man and a christian, and put 



ALONE. 



357 



jmkT tmst, in ibis issue, in His hands, 
before whom I shall shortly appear. Till 
there is peace in this oppressed land, you 
must remain my son's foe, but I am sure 
yon will proTe a noble one, or you never 
eonld ret^n my Agnes' Iots. My hope is 
that yon may manage an exchange to 
some regiment in another part of the 
world, where you may await the ooming 
of far better days. One word more: my 
daughter is wealthy, her mother left her 
eo, and she will inherit more at my death, 
for Congress has as yet left me my es- 
tates, although a royalist Should the 
King's colonies be recovered on this con- 
tinent, she may be reduced to poverty, 
from the commission of some overt act 
which in one of her sex is uncalled for. 
Use your endeavors to dissuade her from 
this for her own sake. A woman to my 
mind should eschew further interference 
in civil warfare than is shown in acts of 
sympathy and love. Thai is her fitting 
sphere.'' 

The promise required being given by 
Harrison and joined in by the sobbing 
Agnes, Mr. Bmerson sunk back exhaus- 
ted on his pillows, and Qeorge, pressing 
his hand gently and affectinnately in both 
of bis, in earnest of his sincerity and 
gratitude, slipped quietly from the room, 
fearing that the excitement, if longer con* 
tinued, might snap the thread upon 
which the old man's life was hanging. 

The invalid shortly fell into a dose, 
from which, in two hours, he awoke only 
to breathe his last. The exertion had 
overtasked his feeble powers, and ere the 
early time for family prayers, strictly 
adhered to by Mrs. Reid, had arrived, 
her brother-in-law was " where the wicked 
eeaee/rom troubling and the weary are at 



f» 



8ad, indeed, was the parting between 
Harrison and his betrothed the following 
morning, when his escort resumed their 
march. It was probably for years, pos- 
sibly lor life, and both had to summon 



their nerve and strength to the utmost. 
With a whispered promise, which for an 
instant even illumed Agnes' face with a 
hopeful smile, and one fond, endearing 
embrace, he darted from the house and 
mounting his charger followed the troop, 
which had deployed through the gate. 
In two days he was agiun in New York. 
[Thhe continued,^ 

ALONE. 

BT A NKW CONTRIBUTOR. 

All, all alone ! 
My heart beats echo in my room, 
The night-sky wears a sullen gloom ; 
Gold rain-drops beat the window pane. 
And mock me with their dismal strain ; 
The 8torm.winds,sweepingin wild wrath, 

00 howling on their viewless path ; 
The very fire within the grate 
Seems glowing with hot eyes of hate, 
Until upon my desolate soul 

The black clouds of despiur unroll ; 
The tempest shrieks in every moan 
"All, all alone." 

All, all alone I 
No mother's voice in gentle tone. 
No brother, ever g^reets me here. 
No sister's smiling face is near, 
No school-day friend to make me young, 
•No voice to sing the songs we sung, 
No deep eyes gating into mine 
As in the days of " anld lang syne ! " 
No heart to beat time to my own — 
My heart is cold as pulseless stone ; 

All, all alone. 

I dream again 1 

1 hear no more the dismal rain — 
I draw the carton o'er the pane ; 
I see a cheerful fire-lit room, 

Sweet smiles of love have banished gloom, 
She sits by me, my own true wife. 
My nobler self, my better life* 
No wild unrest no gnawing care. 
My life is all one daily prayer,— 
It might have been 
All, aU alone. 



338 



HUTCHINOS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



It cannot be, 
There is no dream like this for thee; 
Be still, proud heart, and learn to bear, 
Prometheus-like, thy sad despair ; 
Draw back the curtain, let the rain 
Come dashing through the window pane; 
Gaze out and brave the storms of fate, 
The sun may shine, but all too late, 
I only hear theetorm winds moan 
All, all alone I 
Thanksgiving Eve, 



SPONGES, THEIR VARIOUS FORMS 
AND GENERAL HISTORY. 



BT PROF. T. R. JONES. 



It is impossible that any person, how- 
ever thoughtless and unaccustomed to 
observe the works of Creation, can look 
around him, even during a morning's 
ramble through the fields, without being 
struck with the number of living beings 
that offer themselves to his notice, pre- 
senting infinite diversity of form, and 
obviously adapted, by their construction 
and habits, to occupy various and widely 
different situations. The careless loung- 
er, indeed, untaught to mark the less ob- 
trusive and minuter features of the land- 
scape, sees, perhaps, the cattle grazing 
in the field; watches the swallows as 
they glance aiong, or listens with unde- 
fined emotions of pleasure to the vocal 
choir of unseen feathered songsters ; and, 
content with these symptoms of life 
around him, passes unheeding onwards. 
Not so the curious and enlightened wan- 
derer, inquisitive to understand all that 
he finds around him: his prying eye, and 
mind intelligent, not only can appreciate 
the grosser oeauties of the scene, and 
gather full enjoyment from the survey, 
but perceive obiects of wonder multiply 
at every step he takes — the grass, the 
trees, the flowers, the earth, the air, 
swarm with innumerable kinds of active 
living creatures— every stone upturned 
reveals some insect wonder; nay, the 
stagnant ditch he knows to be a world 
wherein incalculable myriads pass their 
lives, and every drop to swarm with ani- 
mated atoms, able to proclaim the Om- 
nipotent Designer loudly as the stars 
themselves. 

Is it upon the sea-shore that the stu- 
dent of nature walks f Each rippling 



wave lays at his feet some tribute from 
the deep, and tells of wonders indescrib- 
able — orings corallines and painted 
shells, and thousand grotesque beings, 
samples lefl; to show that in the sea, 
through all its spacious realms, life still 
is found — that creatures there exist more 
numerously than on the earth itself, all 
perfect in their construction, and, al- 
though BO diversified in shape and attri- 
butes, alike subservient to the general 
welfare. 

And yet how few, even at the present 
day, turn their attention to this wondrous 
scene, or strive at all to understand the 
animal creation — to investigate the struc- 
ture and contrivance that adapt each 
species to perform certain important du- 
ties — ^to perceive the uses and relations 
of each ^roup— to contemplate the habits 
and the instincts that direct the different 
tribes — and, lastly, to trace out the means 
whereby the mighty whole, formed of 
such diverse parts, is all long preserved 
in perfect harmony I 

The study of Natural History and of 
Animal Physiology is confessedly one of 
the grandest as well as the most difficult 
of sciences. To understand the laws 
whereby even the human body is built 
up, lies not within the power of human 
industry or human research ; much less 
to comprehend the lengthy series of cre- 
ation tiiat extends from man, the most 
exalted form of living beings, down to 
the apathetic sponge, which, fixed upon a 
rock, seems equally deprived of sense 
and motion. But because we are, and 
ever must be, unable to grasp the full 
extent of so magnificent a subject in all 
its details, let us not despair of eaining 
much important knowledge from its con- 
templation, whilst, as is our present pur- 
pose, beginning with the first appearances 
of life, we endeavor, step by step, to 
trace out the most conspicuous forma, 
the attributes and distribution of the an- 
imals inhabiting our globe, marking their 
progressive advancement in intelligence 
and happiness, and exhibiting the devel- 
opment of their faculties from the simp- 
lest to the most perfect conditions under 
which they exist 

Preparatory to entering upon a jour- 
ney so extensive as this, it is, however, 
necessary to pause for a few moments, 
in order to investigate its limits, and, 
standing, as it were, upon some elevated 
spot, endeavor to map out as far as we 



SPONGES, TIIKIR VARIOUS FORMS AND GENERAL HISTORY. 359 



iEe regioDS OTer which we are about 
to travel. 

Bat a serioQS questioo preaents itself 
tor solation even as we make this prelim* 
inary surrey. What is an animal? 
Amongst all the forms of organised or 
iiKirgaoio substances how are we to de- 
fijie precisely what an animal is, so as at 
ooee to identify it as saoh and distinguish 
it from a mineral or vegetable? Lin- 
nmuB^ the founder of our science in mod- 
em times, thought that, by an axiom in 
erery way worthy of the mind that gave 
it birch, be had fully and completely set- 
tled this important inquiry. The cele- 
brated axiom of Linnssus, as the reader 
may probably remember, was this: — 
** Siomea grow, tegetabU$ grow and live^ 
tkmitmaU grow, live^ and full" To be car 
pMfU o/Jeelingt therefore, was the char^ 
acteriatic ohoeen by this illuittrious nat- 
aralisi whereby to distinguish an animal 
from any other organised substance. 
But, alas ! we shall soon find, as we con- 
template the humblest forms that are 
DOW admitted into the animal creation, 
an entire absence of this characteristic, 
%A far. at least, as we have the means of 
judging. IIuw are we to prove, for iu- 
•tanoe, that Sponges, while in their liv- 
ing state, possess sensation? You may 
tear them or cut them ; bore them witn 
a red-hot iron ; attack them with chemi- 
cal stimuli of any kind ; vet, lacerate 
and torture them as you will, they will 
never shrink under the inquisition, or 
oonfem by the slightest tremor that they 
are possesse<i of feeling, or capable of 
sensation. On the other side, look at the 
vegetable kingdom. See we not that 
many pUints appear to feel the solar in- 
fluenee, turning their flowers to the 
beams of the sun, or directing the fibrils 
of their roots in search of nourishment ? 
I> les not the sensitive- plant shrink at the 
slightest contact? If we are to judge of 
the poeseviun of the power of feeling 
fn»m the movements caused by external 
impres!<ion9, there are members of the 
vegetable world that have far more claim 
to the title of animals than many of the 
bambler ereatures now unhesitatingly 
classed by the Z tologist as belonging to 
his department of creation. 

9b pOMe$M the faculty of moving from 
piaee io place has been said hj some au- 
thors to be the peculiar attribute of an 
animal. The plant, they say, is rooted 
and fixed ; the animal is endowed with 



locomotion, and able to rove about in 
search of food. But even this distinc- 
tion, we shall hereafter see, fails in very 
numerous instances. In the animal se- 
ries there are living beinf^s that are im- 
movably attached to some external ob- 
ject during the whole period of their ex- 
istence, and seem to be as devoid of loco- 
motive power as any vegetables. Again, 
on the contrary, there are plants that 
evince this faculty, and are, to a certain 
extent, capable of changing their situa- 
tion; consequently, this second charac- 
teristic is as insufficient as the former. 

Perhaps the best definition of an ani- 
mal that has yet been offered is, that ani- 
maU art possessed of an internal reeepia- 
cle for food, wherein ihey colleet the mitri- 
meni destined for their support ; in other 
words, that animals are provided with a 
stomach, while plants are only permeat- 
ed by tubes, through which the nutritive 
juices flow equally to every part. But, 
unfortunately, in the very first class of 
animals that awaits our notice, the 
Sponges, there is no internal reservoir of 
aliment whatever, nor anything that can 
be compared to a stomachal cavity: so 
that our attempts at discrimination are 
once more baffled. 

Chemistry has been appealed to, in or- 
der to solve this important question. 
We are told that animal substanoDs con- 
tain an abundance of Azote, or Nitrogen, 
in their composition, while vegetables do 
not furnish that element: — that the ex- 
istence of the asote in question causes 
animal matter to emit a smell like burn- 
ed horn when fire is applied, a circum- 
stance that is said to bi sufficient to iden- 
tify it. This, to say the best of it, is but 
a clumsy distinction, and, moreover, is 
open to fatal objections : for there are 
vegetables that contain asote, and that, 
perhaps, as abundantly as many animals. 
In the midst of these difficulties, mttdern 
science has had recourse to an entirely 
new line of investigation, which, doubtr 
less, will ultimately yield important re- 
sults connected with so intricate an in- 
quiry. This is based upon the different 
appearances presented by the tissues or 
component structures of animals and 
vegetables respectively when they are 
accurately examined under high ma;:ni- 
fying powers ; and, as an instance of the 
success that may be anticipated to result 
from this line of research, as well as of 
the near approximation between the ani- 



360 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



mal and vegetable kingdoms, even in out- 
vrard appearance, one example will be 
sufficient for our present purpose. The 
Corallines are, for the most part, decided- 
ly animals, and many of them, as we 
shall hereafter see, animals of very com- 
plex organization; but several of these, 
e. g, Corallina opurUia and C. officinalis, 
which, from their almost exact resem- 
blance to Zoophytes, were supposed to 
have the same structure, and were unhes- 
itatingly admitted by Cuvier into the an- 
imal series, have been found, by examin- 
ing them with a microscope, after the 
hard calcareous matter is aissolved out 
of them, to belong to the vegetable world; 
inasmuch as they are composed of veget- 
able cellular tissue, which, having a pe- 
culiar arrangement, is readily distin- 
guishable. Thus, therefore, when we 
are better acquainted with the microsco- 
pic appearances of the different tissues 
that enter into the composition of organ- 
ised substances, im|)ortant facts, calcu- 
lated to throw light upon the subject we 
are now discussing, may reasonably be 
expected. 

But we must advance a step further 
yet, before we have fully laid before the 
reader the difficulties that attend this 
piece of investigation. It has recently 
been stated, and apparently upon good 
foundation, that tnere are organized 
forms that are vegetables at one period 
of their existence and animals at anoth- 
er. Many of the Confervce, for example, 
are ec^ually claimed by Zoologists and 
Botanists ; and some among these, as 
the Oscillaiorimi are said to be possessed 
of locomotion in one stage of their growth, 
while in another they are fixed and mo- 
tionless. So nearly, then, do the animal 
and vegetable worlds approximate, re- 
mote and separate as they appear to be 
when examined only in their typical 
forms. Light and darkness are distinct 
from each other, and no one possessed of 
eyesight Kould be in danger of confound- 
ing night with day ; yet he, who looking 
upon the evening sky would attempt to 
point out precisely the line of separation 
between the parting day and the ap- 
proaching night, would have a difficult 
task to perform. Thus is it with the 
Physiologist who endeavors to draw the 
boundanr between these two grand king- 
doms of nature; for so gradually and 
imperceptibly do their confines blend, 
that it 18 at present utterly out of his 



power to define exactly where vegetable 
existence ceases and animal life begins. 

Having confessed our ignorance of any 
characters that essentially distinguish 
an animpl from a vegetable, we are re- 
duced to the necessity of conventionally 
allotting to the Botanist a certain share 
of the organized creation, whilst, as Zo- 
ologists, we take to ourselves the oontem* 
plation of the remaining portion: our 
next inquiry must, consequently, be con- 
cerning the point at which the division is 
to be made. 

It appears that, by the almost univer- 
sal consent of modern Naturalists, all 
those marine and fresh water productions 
called Sponges have been grouped to- 
gether in one extensive class, and assifcn- 
ed to the share of the Zoological student 
as the lowest beings to which the name 
of animal is rightly applicable : how far 
they are entitled to the appeUation, we 
must, therefore, now proceed to inquire. 

All sponges are inhabitants of the wa- 
ter, ana for the most part they are ma- 
rine. Some forms encrust the surfaces 
of rocks, on which they spread them- 
selves like a soft and living carpet ; oth- 
ers, attached to stones, or coral branches, 
swell into large and shapeless masses: 
some, exquisite in texture, fix themselyes 
upon the roofs of ocean-caverns, and 
thence hang down like living network in 
the tranquil sea ; or, moulded into cups 
and strange fantastic arborescent shapes, 
exist abundantly in every climate. 

The common sponges, with the appear- 
ance and texture of which, when in a 
dried state, every one is familiar, we 
shall, on that account, select for special 
description, as being well calculated to 
illustrate what is known concerning the 
history of the entire class. 

The sponge of* commerce (S^fxmffia 
officinalis) is entirely composed of a most 
intricate interlacement of horny fila- 
ments, between which water passes free- 
ly through all parts of the spongy mass. 
When highly magnified, the manner in 
which these filaments unite in every di- 
rection with those around is distinctly 
seen, and show that its entire substance 
is made up of countless minute intercom- 
municating cells, circumscribed on all 
sides by the horny meshes. 

The horny network is, however, only 
the framework or skeleton upon which 
the living portion of the sponee is sup- 
ported and spread out. Whilbt the 



SPONGES, THEIR VARIOUS FORMS AND GENERAL HISTORY. 361 



sponge u alive, or recentl j detached from 
toe rock on which it grew, every filament 
is found to be coated over with a glairy 
albominoni film, almost as liquid as oil 
or as the white of an egg, and it is this 
•emi-fluid film which constitutes the liv* 
icg portion of the creature; being en- 
dowed with the power of absorbing nour- 
iiihmeot from the surrounding water, 
and, as it grows, of forming for itself a 
homy support which it arranges in defi- 
nite and oeautifol forms, characteristic 
of the species to which it belongs. 

If the living sponge, thus constructed, 
be examined while in its native element, 
it is seen to be possessed of faculties and 
capabilities of a most eztraordinarr and 
inexplicable character. It was, I believe. 
Professor Bell who, many years ago, first 
announced in a paragraph in Nicholson's 
Journal, that, wnen the sponge is watch- 
ed in its natural condition, its substance 
is seen to be permeated in all directions 
by strong currents, the courae of which 
may easily be made apparent by diffas- 
ing a little powdered chalk, or other 
opaque particles, through the surround- 
ing water. 

Professor Grant has more recently and 
more minutely examined this part of 
their economy ; and it is, indeed, princi- 
pally to his patient observations that we 
are indebted for such a history of sponges 
as indaoes modem Zoologists to classify 
them as members of the animal creation. 

By a careful examination of living 
fip^mges, the last mentioned observer as- 
oertaioed that the water wherein the 
•pon^ is immersed is perpetually sucked 
into Its substance througo the countless 
minute pores that cover its outer surface, 
and as incessantly is again expelled 
through other and much larger orifices, 
that are placed at distant intervals upon 
prominent portions of the body of the 
sponge. The water sucked in by the 
general porous surface is gradually col- 
lected by some inherent and vital power 
of the sponge, into larger and still larger 
channels, and at length is forcibly ejected 
through wide openings. 

(The account given by Professor Grant 
of hia first discovery of these entering 
and tsauing currents is extremely graph- 
ic Having placed a portion of live 
sponge {i^Hmffia ctkUiia) in a watch-glass 
with some sea water, "I beheld," says 
be, *'fur the first time the splendid speo- 
tade of this living fountain vomiting 



forth from a circular cavity an impetu- 
ous torrent of liquid matter, and hurling 
along in rapid succession opaque masses 
which it strewed everywnere around. 
The beauty and novelty of such a scene 
in the animal kingdom long arrested my 
attention ; but after twenty-five minutes 
of constant observation I was obliged to 
withdraw my eye, from fatigue, without 
having seen the torrent for one instant 
change its direction or diminish the ra- 
pidity of its course." In observing an- 
other species, {Spongia panieea^, he Is 
still more exact in describing so interest 
ing a phenomenon. '*Two entire por- 
tions of this sponge were placed together 
in a glass of sea water, with their orifices 
opposite to each other at the distance of 
two inches ; they appeared to the naked 
eye like two living batteries, and soon 
covered each other with the materials 
thev ejected. I placed one of them in a 
shallow vessel, and juit covered its sur- 
face and highest orifice with water. On 
strewing some powdered chalk on the 
surface of the water, the currents were 
visible to a great distance ; and, on plac- 
ing some pieces of oork or of drj paper 
over the apertures, I could perceive them 
moving by the force of the currents at 
the distance of ten feet from the table on 
which the specimen rested.") 

In a singular form of sponge (Leucoma 
e(nnpre*sa^ the process i^ somewhat mod- 
ified. This species, which is fusiform 
and hollow, receives the surrounding wa- 
ter through innumerable pores distribut- 
ed over its outer surface, which, after 
percolating the substance of the mass, 
escapes into the internal cavity, whence 
it is ejected in a large stream from the 
wide orifice situated at one extremity. 

We are here naturally curious to in- 

auire, what is the cause of this constant 
ow of water through the sponge ? That 
the currents in some specie^ are thus con- 
spicuous, has been testified by several 
observers ; but we are even now entirely 
ignorant concerning the motive power 
employed to produce such a circulation. 
Some of the older Zoologists tell us that 
the substance of the sponge, when micro- 
scopically examined, is found to present 
contractions and dilations in some meaa- 
ure comparable to those of a living heart» 
whereby the gushes of water are pro- 
duced ; but more recent and accurate ob- 
servers have satisfactorily proved that 
no such oontraotiont are perceptible. 



362 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



Ciliary movement, a phenomenon that 
we shall minutely investigate hereafter, 
has been suggested in explanation of the 
circumstance, but the most powerful 
glasses do not reveal to us the presence 
of those wonderful vibratile nlaments 
known to produce similar currents in 
other animals. 

It is doubtless from the water, that, in 
the manner above described, traverses 
every part of its interior, that the sponge 
derives the materials for its nourishment. 
Particles of organized matter are thus 
continually introduced ; and probably 
the living film, that coats every portion 
of the extensive surface presented by the 
intricate skeleton or framework, may be 
endowed in some mysterious way with 
the power of digesting such numment 
and of converting it into its own sub- 
stance. Let us, however, complete the 
general history of sponges before we di- 
rect our attention t« particular members 
of this strange class of living beings. 
During certain seasons of the year, on 
making a section through the substance 
of some sponges, as Dr. Grant informs 
us, innumerable small granules of gela- 
tinous matter will be seen sprouting in 
all directions from the living fiUn that 
invests the horny skeleton ; and these 
granules or globules speedily increase in 
size, until they form minute masses of 
jelly, which in shape and size are com- 
parable to pins' heads. At length they 
Decome detached from the nidus where 
they grow, and, escaping into some of 
the currents issuing from the sponge, 
they are whirled away and projected into 
the sea. 

The globules referred to, or gtmvnuUs 
as they are technically called, are, in 
fact, so many young sponges, which, hav- 
ing sprouted as buds from their plant- 
like parent, are to be conveyed to a dis- 
tance and disseminated through the sur- 
roundin|; ocean. But how is this to be 
accomplished ? The adult sponge, from 
whence the gelatinous gemmules are de- 
rived, is cemented to the rock, fixed, and, 
as we have seen, absolutely motionless 
and devoid of contraction, and conse- 
quently incapable of carrying the off- 
spring from place to place, or of assist- 
ing in effecting their dispersion. The 
young sponges, therefore, the gemmules 
themselves, must be endowed with some 
means of locomotion, and gifted with 
powers of which the animal that gave 
them being is totally destitute; accord- 



ingly, instruments of progression have 
been supplied to the nascent sponge of a 
most wonderful and mysterious charac- 
ter. Before breaking loose from the 
gelatinous substance of the parent, these 
gemmules are found to assume an ovoid 
form ; and, while the narrow extremity 
of each is still attached, the opposite end 
is seen to be covered over with innumer- 
able microscopic filaments, resembling 
hairs, of infinite minuteness, but every 
one instinct with life and capable of rap- 
id motion. These hairs, or cilia as they 
are termed, moved by some innate power, 
vibrate continually ; and in this way, by 
the co-operation of thousands of almost 
invisible oars, the gemmule is torn from 
the substance of the sponge where it was 
formed, and, having been driven into the 
surrounding water, shoots like a micro- 
scopic meteor through the sea to a con- 
siderable distance from the place of its 
birth. Having, at length, arrived in a 
locality proper for its future development, 
the little gemmule settles down upon the 
surface oi some rock and spreads out into 
a film ; its wonderful apparatus of oars 
soon disappears, and, deprived of all 
power of locomotion, it graaually spreads, 
oegins to form within it the homy or oth- 
er framework peculiar to its species, and 
soon presents the same appearance, and 
arrives at the same dimensions, as the 
original from whence it sprang. (It 
would seem, however, from the observa- 
tions of Dr. Johnston, the accurate and 
learned author of a History of British 
Sponges, that the ciliated gemmules de- 
scribe by Dr. Grant are by no means 
met with in all specie?, although he^ ad- 
mits the accuracy of Dr. Grant's views 
with respect to some. Dr. Johnston has 
likewise well described the way in which 
sponges are developed from the gelatin- 
ous globule whence they originated, a 
process that appears to be effected in the 
following manner: — The little sponge, 
according to Dr. Johnston's account, be- 
gins as a spot-like crust of uniform tex- 
ture, porous throughout, and nearly 
equally so ; yet even in this primitive 
condition, there is a perfect circulation 
established, a current which seeks the 
interior, and another which flows from it 
to mix with the circumfluent medium. 
As the sponge grows in extent and depth, 
the space for imbibition is en]ar<red ; and 
the centrifugal water in its efflux, flow- 
ing at first into one, and then into more 
currents, these gradually make for them- 



SPONGES. THEIR VARIOUS FORMS AND GENERAL HISTORY. 363 



MWes ebanoeb in the cellular texture, 
the fibres of which are pushed aside, and 
proTcnted bj the coDtiDuance of the 
stream from again encroaching on its 
coarse. The channels increase in num- 
ber with the continued growth of the 
spuoge; and, as it cannot but happen 
thmx thej shall occasionally open into and 
croee each other, we have a wider canal 
formed bj the additional flow of water 
into it. ouch of these canals as reach 
near the surface soon effect for them- 
selres a wide opening there ; for the is- 
Miing current continually pushes against 
tbe saperfioes of the sponee which op- 
poeee its efflux, and gradually thins and 
Imisens its texture until this ultimately 
disappears, leaving a wide orifice or oscu- 
6na. This is frequently a simple circu- 
lar hole, but often, on looking within the 
(loter rim, we notice in it from two to 
lire le^aer oicuhi united together, which 
are the openings of so many canals that 
haTe anited Uiere; »nd sometimes we 
find spread within the osculum, or over 
its nooth, a network of finer texture 
than the rest of the sponge, but other- 
wisa of the same nature and composition. 
The form of the oacula, through which 
the eorrents issue from the interior of 
the sponge, depends entirely on the text- 
ure of toe specie* and on the force of 
the effluent currents. If the texture be 
ldfM€ and fibrous, it yields easily, and 
the oecala are level or nearly so ; if more 
eon pact, the skin is pushed beyond the 
Mirfaoe into a papillary eminence ; and, 
if too firm and dense to vield to the pres- 
•ure behind^ the 09cnla fall again into a 
level condition. They are also liable to 
be Modified in some degree by external 
circQ instances; for the littoral sponge, 
vbich, in a sheltered hollow, or fringed 
l>M>l, will throw up craters and cones 
fnim its surface, may be only perforated 
with level oscola when it is swept over 
and nibbed down by the waves of every 
c^de.) 

From the received history of the oom- 
Dtm «ponge, as given above, there would 
appear to be little difficulty in admitting 
beings so organised to appertain to the 
animal series of creation; but, even 
granting some of the highest forms to be 
entitled to the name of animals, it is by 
DO means easy to admit that all the sub- 
atances ealled sponges are equally worthy 
of the appellation. There are, for ex- 
ple, what are called " gdaiinotu $pam- 



gea," that do not present the reticulated 
structure we have alluded to, but, when 
examined under the microscope, rather 
resemble the tissue of plants ; and, on 
the other band, there are sponges, the 
reticulations of which are so delicate and 
so widely apart, that it would be difficult 
to imagine them at all capable of pro- 
ducing currents such as those above de- 
scribed. Such forms, most probably, 
ought to be regarded as members of the 
vegetable kingdom. 

In the sponge of commerce, and other 
allied species, the entire framework, as 
we have seen, oonsbts of a horny sub- 
stance, which, from its flexibility and 
resiliency, becomes extremely useful to 
mankind, and is an important article of 
commerce ; but there are various other 
kinds of Fponge, that are utterly worth- 
less in a commercial point of view, hav- 
ing their skeletons supported by silicious 
or calcareous particles, produced from 
the surrounding water, and deposited in 
a crystallised form throughout the sub> 
stance of the sponge, imbedded in a tough 
fibrous material that binds them together. 
On destroying the soft portions of such 
sponges, bv burning them, or bv solution 
in a corrosive acid, these crystals are ea- 
sily obtained in a separate condition; 
and, if examined under a microscope, 
will be found to present definite shapes, 
which are occasionally characteristic of 
the species of sponge to which they be- 
longed. All or these silicious sponges 
have the spicula diffused through its sQb> 
stance, which are found to assume the 
appearance of spines radiating from a 
common centre. In other species the 
spicula are merely straight or curved 
needle-like bodies, or they have heads 
like pins, or resemble minute rows of 
beads; but, whatever their form, it is 
more or less oonstant and invariable, in 
so much that, to use an expression of 
Professor Grant, a few of them brought 
from any part of the world upon a 
needle's point would enable the Zoolo- 
gist to identify the species to which they 
originally appertained; an assertion, 
however, that most be received with 
very considerable limitations. 

The presence of silicious spicula thus 
diffusea abundantly through the entire 
substance of sponges possessing a skele- 
ton of this dsseription, unimportant as 
the circumstance may seem at first sight, 
enables the Geologists to give an nnex- 



364 



BTJTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



pected, bnt very satisfactory, explanation 
of the origin of those detached and iso- 
lated masses of flint, which in varions 
chalk formations are so abundantly met 
with, arranged in regular layers through 
strata of considerable thickness. The 
mere assertion, that flints were sponges, 
would no doubt startle the reader who 
was unacquainted with the history of 
those fossil relics of a former ocean ; but 
we apprehend that a little reflection will 
satisfy the most sceptical of the truth of 
this strange announcement Imbedded 
in the substance of the chalk, which, 
during long periods, by its accumulation 
had continued to oyerwhelm successive 
generations of marine animals, the spon- 
ges have remained for centuries exposed 
to the water that continually percolates 
such strata — ^water which contains sili- 
cious matter in solution. From a well 
known law of chemistry, it is easy to ex- 
plain why particles of similar matter 
should become ag^egated» and thus to 
understand how, m the lapse of ages, 
the silicious spicula that originally con- 
stituted the framework of a sponge have 
formed nuclei around which Kindred at- 
oms have constantly accumulated, until 
the entire mass has been at last convert- 
ed into solid flint. We are, moreover, 
by no means left to mere conjecture or 
hypothesis upon this interesting point; 
nothing is more common in chalky dis-. 
tricts than to find flints which, on being 
broken, still contain portions of the orig- 
inal sponge in an almost unaltered con- 
dition, and thus afford irrefragable proof 
of the original condition of the entire 
mass. 

From the history of sponges we thus 
learn the following important facts, con- 
nected with and eluciaating subsequent 
parts of our subject: — A film of gelatin- 
ous consistence, possessing no stomach 
and spread out upon a framework of its 
own construction, has the power of nour- 
ishing itself and of separating from the 
sea, in which it is immersed, particles of 
a homy, calcareous or silicious nature, 
and of building up by means of these 
materials a peculiar structure called a 
Biion^. 

With these facts before us, relative to 
the capabilities of living matter, we are 
prepared to investigate the next forms of 
creation that nature offers to our inspeo- 
tioD. 



GOOD NIGH.. 



I. 



Good night, good night, ^n 
Or on the land or on tl.< 

Some Angel whisper to tlr 
A sad but sweet " good 



a. 



Swift, swift OS speeds the lu> 
Far from its birth-place . 

A herald swift of coming 
So rapidly my thougbt 



HI. 

And thou wilt hear it, sofT . 

As by a sephyr breathed 
And feel within thy heart d 

Fall many a sweet **goo«. 

IV. 

Sweet, sweet thy sleep , a i . ' 
While Fancy with its m 

Still whispers of the be:~* 
With love for thee,- f 
night. 

STAGIN* 



BT DOIM. 



Whip 1 snap ! crack ! " • 
an outside seat with a j"- 
mettled horses — ^good r^ 
bracing air. What is < 
the man who doesn't fof^ • 
er and ten times richer t* 
But — there's a but — wb' 
day, heavy roads, tiroi. 
stock; mud and water, hr^- 
es, and the hill-sides " 
where is that individun i 
old — very old ; and r 
StiU, it's all right, tr;. 
expect good roads and • 
out of season. 

There are, however, 
travel and are never f^f 
day is fine and the roat 
the stage goes right stn . 



■^ ..» 



'••* V. 



366 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



quaintance, one that I shall have reason 
to be proud of, and one who I never 
should have knovrn but for the turning 
over of that stage. 

I hope that no one after reading the 
above will be mean enough to say, or even 
think, that I advocate the upsetting of 
stage coaches I I most positively declare 
that I am not in favor of it ! 'tis a very 
dangerous amusement, and not safe I I 
only wish to prove that advantages may 
arise from accidents, and that it is best, 
as was Mark Tapley, to be jolly under all 
circumstances. 

It is not often that we find a stage load 
of passengers dull and prosy ; there is 
generally some " odd stick," some joker, 
some singer, some good talker, or, an in- 
quisitive fellow ; some old lady who wants 
to know all about you, and where you 
come from, and what you intend to do. 
There is generally something to make the 
time ptfss pleasantly and quickly — when 
the roads and weather are good. 

Railroads and steamboats are all very 
well if a person wants to be rushed 
through on business — but for comfort and 
pleasure give me the old Coach, when the 
day is fine, and the road hard, when the 
teams at the changes come up fresh, and 
the horses go to their collars with a will 
and make the bounding stage rattle over 
the solid ground — when the boxes talk, 
and the passengers converse, and the dri- 
ver feels in a jolly good humor— oh, then 
give me the old Stage Coach ; and for mu- 
sic, the crack 1 crack I crack! of the mer- 
ry lash, and the whir-r-r-r-r-l-l-l-l of the 
flying wheels. 

DAISYBANK. 



BT MART YIOLA TIKGLKT. 



[Oontinaed from pAge 820] 



CHAPTER III. 

That night Florence told me all — her 
great heart full of love for Byron. How 
her parents thought him a worthless 



young man, without ambition, and had 
eyen forbidden their walking out togeth- 
er. How anxious they were for her to 
marry no one but a wealthy man. I 
knew she was sincere when she wept and 
told me she could never, never love any 
one else. Very beautiful she was — a tall 
girl of sixteen — handsomely formed, and 
a lovely, expressive face ; full of winning 
ways, a lover of the beautiful and good ; 
besides which, she was an accomplished 
musician and well educated generally. 

In the middle of the night I awoke 
and heard the same singing of birds. I 
touched Florence, and we both listened 
long. It was something too sweet for us 
to fear, and when we spoke of it the next 
day, they only smiled and said few young 
misses were favored with echoing sere- 
nades during their wakeful momenta. 

A few days afterwards, Col. Ellet in- 
formed the family that Mr. Murray, a 
wealthy San Francisco merchant^ an ac- 
quaintance of theirs, would spend some 
time with them. It was well understoc'd 
that he was to win the hand of Florence, i 

" He came — he saw," but i 



« 



Now, dear, do please keep him away 
from me. You know I dislike him so 
much !" 

" Certainly I will, Flor ; but I prom- 
ised to ride this week with Ben Brown- 



ing 



f9 



" No matter, take both — or- 



VXk 



ride Lassie and you take my Mab." 

Sure enough, Mr. Murray came. II 
rode a fine horse, and giving the bridl 
to Jim, was ushered into the house, whil 
I lingered behind and said, "Jim, tie th 
animal up to General Washington's 
bow, and put the hay just near cnougl 
to gratify his sense of smell." 

"Now — now. Missy May, dats ji 
wicked, case ye see dis aint no comm 
animal ; jist breaks dis chile's heart 
see a good boss 'bused. 'Spose V 
gwine to tie dat boss's tail up in a ko 
kase you sez so. Miss, so Massa £11 



DAISTBANR. 



367 



•oole awful T Dis ohile not gwine to git 
in no tich scrape, sore." 

" Ob, you honest old Mr. Ebony I don't 
you wish you were w-ar-y down in ole 
Virginny, whar dey has de com huskins 
and de hoe-cake?" 

** Ob, dem was good ole times, Missy. 
I misses de ole dances in Massa's bam, 
and 'specially de coon huntins ; oh, dats 
a bressed country — duient no do, Ize got 
to be more abolition-like in Califomy — if 
twas'ent for Massa Ellet, huse so kind, 
tinkrdjine'em." 

" You're as good an old soul as ever 
Ned was, Jim, and some day you shall go 
back and hunt the coon and cut the 
pigeon-wing with Dinah, so you shall 1 
There, now — don't forget to tie the 
horse's tail, though — spoil everything if 
you do." 

Well, we had some fine rides — I often 
managing it so that Byron and Florence 
rode side by side, whilst Mr. M. and I 
dashed down through the cafions. Flor- 
ence said I was treating Ben Browning 
in an exceedingly bad way, when I was 
only obliging her. I didn't love Ben 
then, at all, because he wore such brown 
boots ! if he did have a proud arched in- 
step— and such a sunburnt nose, and was 
not poetical ; all he could do was to jump 
into bis saddle as easily and as gracefully 
as a prince, and talk intelligently, and 
always kindly^that's why I didn't like 
him, too ; he wouldn't be the least bit 
r«h4tinate, or argue with me, so we had 
Cio always be so tamely friendly — ^no make- 
ops, and consequent tbink-more^f-each- 
«>chers. lie was too practical, and de- 
cidedly nnromantic. Just braye enough, 
and with just the eyes to have been a 
knight, hundreds of years ago ; but now, 
of coorse,— degenerate times — we need 
DO brace derotees, only those who can 
iiit in slippers and build airy castles, and 
live in them, if possible, without getting 
a p. He never thought of presenting 
rose-buds and winningly saying, "like 



thee," or "at thy feet," or "sing again 
and again?" Of course I didn't like 
him very much, — ^that is, affectionately — 
and now he's over the waters and I think 
of him sometimes — and, if I wasn't too 
proud, might say, " I wish, oh, I wish 
he'd come I " I say it all to myself some- 
times, with tears in my eyes, when I re- 
member. 

He had purchased a piece of Und about 
a mile from Daisybank a year before. 
His house was on a hill above the mea- 
dow that spread out by the Afton. Old 
trees and dark forests were behind, and 
from the front piazza we could see over 
the flower-oovered miniature prairie, and 
here and there among the foliage the 
streamlet like a silver ribbon winding 
about the foot of the hills that arose from 
its other bank. Here Ben lived in 
"Browning Hall" with every comfort 
that a young bachelor could desire. An 
old man by the name of Basset headed 
the establishment It was acknowledged 
by all of the neighbors that Ben was pos- 
sessor of the best horses and guns, and 
was the surest shot about that valley. 
Besides enjoying luxuries he was a labor- 
ing man, consequently his property was 
increasing in value. 

CHAPTIR IV. 

About a week after Mr. Murray's ar- 
rival, on one evening, little Charley, the 
brother of Florence, came running into 
the sitting-room, and said — " Guess what 
I know 1 I heard sister say last night 
that she would never marry any one but 
Cousin Byron !" Charley was sent to 
bed without supper— -except a big piece of 
bread and butter which I slipped through 
the window. They didn't know that I 
had trained the youngster half a day for 
that scene, on promise of making him an 
octagon kite on the morrow, which was 
faithfully dons. Consequently, Mr. Mur- 
ray left soon — ^bless his accommodating 
spirit! — and that's what we said then. 



368 



nUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



neither patheticallj or parenthetically, 
but loud and joyous, when away from the 
house — the old trees will testify to the 
truth of that. Col. Ellet was enraged, 
but did not treat his daughter as less 
kind fathers might have done. He well 
knew that Byron Reeve held the heart of 
Florence as more precious than anything 
on earth — but was by no means (for sel- 
fish reasons) pleased with any such ar^ 
rangement; whereupon it was gently 
hinted that he might as well depart. 

My vacation was drawing to a close, in 
a few days I was to leave Daisybank, re- 
freshed and happy. 

'*0h my heart will break 1 I'll never 
be the joyous girl I was — I wish he had 
never come. He is going away and you 
too, and no one will care for me but Ben 
Browning. Why didn't you treat him 
more kindly— he's so noble, and thinks 
so much of you." 

" He never told me so — particularly." 

" Then it is because yon are sarcastic 
and proud — he's afraid." 

'* Oh, he's a brave soldier indeed." 

** Do you know Florence, I have ascer- 
tiunedfrom whence our mysterious mu- 
sic came ?" 

" No ! Do tell me." 

'*Your cousin Byron, instead of being 
so idle, has spent nearly the whole of 
every night in the library, writing a book. 
You know the canaries are kept in there 
at night, and thinking by his light that 
it was day, they sang. So all of that 
poetry is spoiled, because the mystery is 
solved. He told me everything to-day ; 
his book is finished, and will be publish- 
ed immediately on his return to the east- 
ern States. He thinks it will be popular 
and is sanguine in his hopes of success. 
By the bye, Mr. Murray, on his depart- 
ure, asked me for a flower, and I rolled 
up a big red poppy in a paper, and for- 
bade his opening it before getting home. 
Wasn't that good ? — there's nobody here 
that we want him to remember." 



" Ob) what will you do when you meet 
him in the city ? I'm afraid he will net 
like you. You are foolish to make ent- 
mies in that way." 

'* No danger, I'll laugh him out of it 
We'll be better friends than ever. I am 
so glad about Byron — I'm sure he will 
succeed, and that you will yet be happy." 

" Yes, you always, as Jean Paul eays, 
look at the south side of events.'' 

" Oh, I guess so, and you knoipv I 
was always the best guesser in school 
You know that I've guessed out of difi- 
culties in ''relations" over and over again, 
when you little simpletons sat biting your 
fingers — so you'll hope, of course. There, 
now, kiss me, and say you are a stupid 
little goose to feel so badly." 

" Oh, but if you were not going, dear 
May." 

CHAPTER V. 

The beautiful days at Daisybank pass- 
ed away, and with many kind words and 
partings, and a boquet gathered at 
" Browning Hall," by Ben — ^ita flowers 
containing mystic language — I bade 
good-bye to that fairy spot, and those I 
loved there. 

Byron, accompanied by Ben Browming, 
left soon for the east. 

Six months passed, and Col. Ellet, fail- 
ing in his San Francisco business, dis- 
posed of Daisybank, and took his family 
to New York, where they lived very 
retired. 

Last summer, Florence's aunt took her 
with her to a fashionable watering place, 
where she was very much admired. Still, 
she had not forgotten Byron, and fre- 
quently heard from him through me. 
After she had been there a short tinke, 
one evening, when standing alone on the 
piazza, a lady and gentleman promenad- 
ed back and forth past her, and at the 
sound of his voice her heart almost stood 
still ; then the lady called him Byron ! 
Could it be ho? was he there, and married? 



ELLE ME YOIT.— AMELIA OLDENBURGH. 



369 



She watched them enter the hall, and, 
MB thej passed the window, she knew his 
face. She went to her room and wept, 
and long were the hours before she slept. 
The following evening, dressing herself 
in her most becoming and beaatifal way, 
taking extra pains with her toilet, she 
said to herself: 

** There, I know I look beautiful, to- 
rn^ t, and rU let him know that I jet 
hare pride/' She entered the hall, and 
Terj brilliant she looked,* as she graceful- 
It leaned upon the arm of her cousin 
Lewis. 

Mr. Reeve was there also. He soon 
saw Florence, but did not, for along time, 
allow her eyes to meet his. He was alone. 
He alto thought that she was probably 
married. He left the room, and, the fol- 
lowing morning, called upon her, when 
everything was explained satisfactorily. 
The lady was the young sister-in-law of 
Byroo. He saw that she had grown 
much more lovely and interesting ; and 
«be thought him as noble as ever. 

He was now well off; his book had 
suooeeded finely, and his father having 
died had left him several thousand dol- 
lars. 

I lately received the following note 
from Florence: — 

£tor, dear May: 

I am the happiest bird in ezistenoe ! 
1 go aboQt carolling all day 1od& *nd 
my heart is overflowing with joy. Byron 
luid I are to be married next month. We 
«hall spend the winter in gay Washing- 
t'io, as he is obliged to be there when 
Con gr eis is in session. But, most joy- 
«/os to me u it, that Byron has sent word 
to a friend to purchase Daisybank, and 
we frill return to dear California by April 
««r May---the loveliest season, you know. 
I told him I could never be ae happy in 
aoT place as there, and he likes it fulliy as 
welL Sweet, beautiful days that you and 
I have spent there! We'll live them 
over and over again, darling, for you 
■hall be vrith us most of the time. 

And more good news — ^hold ^our heart 
— with us will come as dittingut^ and 



proud, and good-hearted a gentleman, as 
chivalry can boast of. Who is it? Ah, 
must I tell? Know then he comes to 
seek a fair maiden, at whose shrine he 
long since bowed, and who then charmed 
the peace-bird from his breast — 'tis the 
lord of Browning Hall I 

A heartfuU of love from your happy 
and constant FLoaiircK. * 



ELLE MS YOIT. 



BT J. P. CARLXTON. 



l!Ue me voit — ^where'er I stray, 

'Tis a fancy of my own ; 
On land or sea, oy night or day, 

She follows, and— I'm not alone. 

Elle me volt — how sweet to deem 
I meet her glance in every star ; 

How sweet,in crowds, to nurse the dream , 
The blissful dream — she is not far. 

EUe me voit — ^whene'er I quaff 
The wine-cup, in an hour of glee, 

I seem to hear her ringing laugh. 
And smile to think she pledges me. 

Elle me voit--in gay saloons. 
When mingling in the merry dance, 

She flits before, to joyous tunes. 
And turns on me that magic glance. 

Elle me Toit — when on my bed 
I throw my weary limbs along. 

Her spirit hovers 'round my head, 
And sooths me with her serial song. 

AMELIA OLDENBURGH. 



BY CLQB. 



"Did you see uncle, this morning, 
Frederic?" 

•• Yes, dear." 

''Well, what did he say? 

" Oh, the same old story.' 

"Oh, dear! no hope for as there, I 
suppose. Tou will still persist in going 
to America?" 



ft 



tf 



370 



HUTCHIN6S' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



" Yes, Rosana ; for I cannot hope to get 
into business here, without money or 
friends. And another thing, my lore, 
that old, miserly uncle of yours is insuf- 
ferable; he will never open his stingy 
fist to help us, however urgent our neces- 
sities may be--I see it plainly. A man, 
of his wealth, that will sit down to a 
crust of bread and a little dried fish for 
his breakfast, as he did this morning, 
when I called upon him, it is useless to 
importune or solicit further. Believe 
me, I am almost ready to curse myself 
for stooping to ask assistance of one so 
degraded as he is. God knows I would 
rather starve than ask for myself; but, 
oh ! for you, my darling, suffering wife, 
and my little Amelia, I would perform a 
more unenviable task than even this. 
Your sensitive nature, my dear Rosana, 
can take in at one view my humiliation. 
When I adverted to my business, this 
morning, all I received was a torrent of 
oath and abuses. I could scarcely keep 
from taking his cursed life, so greatly 
was I exasperated. His clothes resemble 
an old beggar's — ^the heartless fellow 1" 

'*Do not curse him, Frederic; such 
bitter feelings only enhance our sorrow. 
We can only lament over the errors of 
others, but we cannot alter them." 

*' True, wife, but can I help feeling 
thus, when I contemplate your privations 
and sufferings, and his wealth and abil- 
ity to help us, without feeling it in the 
least ? Can I help cursing him, when I 
know he is worth half a million ? Had 
he other heirs, I conld overlook some of 
his insults. The old dog ! — to wish us 
to taste of poverty and distress, without 
the power to extricate ourselvesl" 

''It is hard, I know, husband, but in 
our extremity let us not curse him. Let 
us remember the words of our Savior : 
' bless them that curse you.' Did yon 
ask him for the oil mill, dear 7" said the 
humble Rosana, forgetting, for the time, 
Frederic's insults. 



'' Yes, I even stooped to this request ; 
but he peremptorily refused it I>o not 
ask me to go to him agiun, my dear wife ; 
it is an outrage to my every feeling." 

"Oh, dear," sighed the poor invalid 
wife, " is there no way but to go to Amer- 
ica?" 

" I would dearly love to spend my re- 
maining days in beloved Strasburg. Do 
not feel so unreconciled to this move. 
America is now all our hope, and per- 
haps a change will do you good. I am 
sorry it is so repugnant to your feelings 
to go, but what am I to do? — stay here, 
and see you starve? I have nothing but 
discouragement, here ; I, wish you would 
go willingly, Rosana. I hear there are 
good opportunities for a man to grow 
rich, and I have just money enough to 
pay our expenses to Philadelphia. Will 
you, dear Rosana, gratify this cherished 
wish of my heart, and go to America 
cheerfully and willingly ? I know and 
feel that you will get well, and that I can 
find lucrative employment, teaching Ger- 
man and music; and, if the change 
would only effect a cure for you, it would 
give me more pleasure than making a 
fortune." 

As Frederic uttered these words of per- 
suasion, he kissed the failing tears from 
Rosana's cheek. His loving sympathy 
won the consent of the reluctant wife ; 
his heart leaped for very joy, as Rosana 
now entered into his plans with willing 
and agreeable interest. 

" I feel like a new man, by your con- 
descension," said he. 

In his excited joy, be was walking the 
room with hurried steps, often casting an 
inquiring look at his wife, half doubting 
his senses. Rosana was rooking in her 
easy chair ; her pale, thin hand resting 
upon the head of a beautiful little girl of 
four years ; her fingers nervously twining 
the long, black curls that hung thickly 
around her pretty head and shoulders; 
a troubled look, as of uncertainty, ap- 



AMELIA OLDSNBUROH. 



371 



p— fed to disoompoae her usually serene 
brow Mkd pale, sweet face; her large, 
expfe oai ve eyes, were filled with anbidden 
tears, as her thoaghts carried her to a 
land of strangers, sick and pennjless. 
She oould not feel all Frederic's sanguine 
hopes. 

" What if I should die in a strange 
land T There would be none left to you, 
Frederick, but little Amelia, and what 
eoold you do with her 7 " 

** Do not imagine so much eril, my 
loTe. Qod will be more merciful to us. 
He will spare you many years to me, I 
feel confident ; now do not let distrust 
mar your happiness. Be cheerful, and 
all will be welL" And kissing her good- 
bye, Frederic took his hat, and with brisk 
and hasty steps, went out and procured 
all the necessary papers for himself and 
family to leave for America. He also 
procured a passage in a vessel which was 
to sail in a few days to Philadelphia. 

Sneeeeding in this, with his usual 
promptness, he retraced his steps, with a 
cheerful and light heart, to his home, to 
impart to his wife his success. The first 
objeottbatmethis eye, was his fragile 
wife, sleeping on a little cot, and the lit- 
tle delleate Amelia kissing her mother's 
band in childish love. The traces of 
tears were still on Roeana's cheeks ; and, 
in spite of his sanguine hopes, dark fore- 
bodings would intrude themselves, and 
mar the bright picture he fain would 
draw of his future success. Amelia was 
their only child. Her quiet, gentle na- 
ture, and quick sensibility, made her a 
little idol to both father and mother. 
When Frederic witnessed her manifesta- 
tions of love to her mother, he was moved 
to tears, and, clasping the little darling 
to bis heart, he groaned in spirit. His 
voice awoke Rosana. Starting to her 
feet, IB an eager tone of voice she asked, 
** Are we going, Frederick V 

** Tea, my dear ; I have made all the 
necessary arrangements, and we are to 
•ail in five days. 



not in haste f 



"So soon? Are you 
But, perhaps it is best" 

" Yes, my love, it it best, as our means 
are limited." 

The time soon arrived ; the farewells 
were taken, with tears of regret, for 
childhood's home, and its pleasant asso- 
ciations. Poor Rosana thought her leave- 
takings were over, but, last of all, the 
miserly undo came ; a grin of delight, 
or rather, satisfaction, played around his 
compreesd lips, making him more hide- 
ous. 

" So you are going, Frederic 1 I hope 
to hear that you have prospered. A man 
can make his own fortune, if he will, and 
I am glad that you are taking such an 
independent course. Here is a trifle for 
you," said he, handing Rosana a little 
well-filled purse. She took it reluctant- 
ly, without replying, except with a look 
of contempt. He took little Amelia on 
his knee, and put his hand in his pocket, 
and drew out a gold locket containing 
his likeness. The locket was a clumsy, 
thick, heavy case, looking as if it con- 
tained a dosen likenesses; a handsome 
gold chain was attached to it Opening 
the locket, he showed Amelia his picture, 
which he told her had been taken ex- 
pressly for her. 

" Here, child, let me fasten it around 
your neck; and when you are fifteen 
years old, you may open the spring back 
in the locket, and all you find in it shall 
be yours." Setting the child down, he 
took leave of Rosana and Frederic; then, 
turning to Amelia, he said, " Now, child, 
take care of that locket — remember what 
I say 1" — and turning away, he lefl them 
to pursue their journey a« best they 
might. 

Rosana looked upon the locket with 
disgust as the clumsy thing hung around 
the child's pretty white neck. Amelia 
appeared pleased with the old man's gilt, 
and persisted in wearing it Rosana 
thought the story of the spring in the 



>f 



372 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



Lack of the locket a mere farce, so it 
passed from her mind as an idle tale. 

The weather was quite warm and sul- 
try for several days after the vessel left 
Amsterdam, and grew more so as she 
plowed her way through the foaming bil- 
lows. Poor Rosana grew rapidly worse 
every day, as they advanced on their 
voyage. Frederic watched her with fear- 
ful anxiety ; he could perceive that she 
was worse, but attributed it to sea-sick- 
ness. Ever alive to hope, he was san- 
guine in the belief that she would get 
well as soon as they reached America. 
So eager was he to catch a glimpse of the 
American coast, that he would strain his 
eyes gazing in its direction, when his 
better sense told him he could see nothing 
but a broad waste of water. 

'* Once there, she will get well !" would 
unconsciously escape his lips. 

Half bewildered between hope and 
fear, he would stand abstractedly gazing 
on his beloved wife, while her feebleness 
gave the lie to his hopes of her recovery. 
Everything was done by the passengers 
that could be done, for her relief and 
comfort. But the fell destroyer. Con- 
sumption, was fast finishing his work — 
much faster than her solicitous friends 
imagined. 

After a rough sea of four days, poor 
Rosana was quite exhausted. She laid 
in her narrow, uncomfortable berth, toss- 
ing her weary limbs from side to side ; 
her breathing becoming every day more 
difficult. Her sympathizing friends were 
startled at her sudden and alarming symp- 
toms, but dared not mention their fears 
to poor Frederic. 

Rosana had suffered in this manner 
several days, when she called Frederic to 
her bedside, and making a desperate ef- 
fort between paroxysms of coughing — 
** Frederic,'' she eaid, **you must now be 
convinced tliat all hopes of my recovery 
are vain. I have but a few hours to live, 
and I have much that I would like to say 



to you. Do not give way to violent grief 
— ^it will unfit you to bear the trials that 
God has seen fit to place upon yon. I 
am ready and willing to die, if it la the 
will of my heavenly Father. I regret to 
leave you and my darling child ; but you 
are in the hands of a kind and benevo- 
lent God. Do not grieve for me, my dear 
Frederic, but rather rejoice that I shall 
be free from suffering. Bring Amelia to 
me, that I may kiss her before I die." 

Taking the child in her feeble aims, 
her lips moved in silent and fervent pray- 
er, such as dying mothers only offer at 
the throne of grace; then kissing her, 
she handed her to her father, saying — 
" Live for your child, Frederic : leave her 
not in a cold world alone. I know God 
will answer my prayers in behalf of my 
child in his own good time." 

Becoming exhausted, she fell into a 
quiet sleep, from which she never awoke. 
So gentle was her passage from earth, 
it was difficult to realize that she was 
dead. Frederic stood by the bedside 
watching for her awakening ; but alas ! 
all was over with Rosana — ^her gentle 
spirit had flown ; and he awoke from his 
deceptive dream in an agony of dark de- 
spair. Amelia stood near, watching her 
father's violent grief in wondering si- 
lence. 

''My sorrow is too much for me to 
bear I" exclaimed he, wringing his hands. 
Many were affected to tears as they wit- 
nessed his delirious grief. Sometimes he 
would doubt the reality of her death, and 
would kiss her cold, clammy face, until 
friends would take him away from her 
corpse. Then he would sit in moody si- 
lence, his tears falling like rain. 

In one of these paroxysms of grief, 
little Amelia approached him, putting 
her infant arms about his neck. She 
pointed to her mother, exclaiming, in 
childish innocence, — '*See, father, see! 
mother smiles I You won't cry now, will 
you ? She is easy, isn't she, papaf" 



AMELIA OLDENBUROH. 



to 



Frederie tamed his sorrowing eyes in 
the direction of his adored wife, and 
gased on her sweet face; a smile played 
CD her oold lips. A deep groan was 
wmng from his broken heart 

Wrapt in his own gloomy thoughts, he 
was not aware that preparations were be- 
ing made for the ocean burial of his wife. 
Late in the evening he was aroused from 
this stupor by the removal of his idol up- 
on deck. The sailors had sewed her 
once beautiful form in the folds of a 
blanket, at once her coffin andshroad. 
Frederic stood in mute despair ; not even 
a tear moistened his swollen eyes. All 
were assembled to witness the sad funer- 
al rites. A friend read the burial ser- 
vice, a prayer was offered, a hymn sung, 
and then in silence the body was launch- 
ed into the deep. A maniac yell was 
heard^ and Frederic leaped into the briny 
water. Almost as soon as he touched the 
sarfiMe, a large shark was seen to seise 
htm between his jaws, to the consterna- 
tion of the shuddering spectators. One 
glimpae was all they ever had of the mar 
nine husband. 

Darkness closed around the yessel, and 
the passengers retired to their respectiTC 
berths* each one saddened by the melan- 
choly Incidents of the past evening. 
Morning again dawned, with her silvery 
light, and the sun rose in all her brillian- 
cy across the calm sea, as if to cheer the 
sad hearts on whom sorrow had fallen 
like a pall. But, notwithstanding all 
natara looked smiling, in her cheerful- 
ness, a shade of sadness rested on every 
eoantena n ce a vague presentiment of 
evil, anaeoountaUe to all, and yet uni- 
versally felt. Few words were exchang- 
ed by Uie passengers ; all appeared wrapt 
in their own gloomy thoughts. Yet, in 
one thing, they seemed to vie with each 
olhar, and litUe Amelia was caressed and 
foodled by aU. 
A few days' sail brought the impatient 
near the end of their tiresome 



voyage. But, when almost in sight of 
the shore, -one evening, a gale sprung up, 
and at midnight had increased to a per- 
fect hurricane ; and, to increase the aw- 
ful terror of the scene, it was discovered 
that the vessel was on fire! The red 
blase swept everything before it, driving 
the frantic passengers of the fated ship 
into the waves, that seemed waiting for 
their prey, and but few escaped a watery 
grave. 

[Tbbe continued.] 

WRITTEN FOR THE BURNS ANNI- 
VERSARY. 



CelebraUd at Sacramento City^ Jan. 25, 1860. 



BT JAinS LINEN. 



Scots ! on the Pacific coast, 
In a bumper proudly toast, 
Scotland's darling pride and 
Her own immortal Bums. 



Clonds may frown and tempests howl. 
And the unco guid may scowl. 
But we'll toom the reeking bowl. 
On this, his natal day. 

Covered be the loun wi' shame, 
Wha wad blast his honored name. 
Wedded now to deathless fame. 
And cherished in our hearts. 

nk year, when the day oomes round. 
May Scotchmen at their posts be found. 
Still by love of oountry bound. 
And feelings o' langsyne. 

Cronies blithe, while here we stand, 
Wi' the social glass in hand, 
Toast our glorious native land 
And a' her sons abroad. 



374 



HUTCHINOS^ CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



HEARTS. 

I. 

I wouldn't sive muofa for the heart that is beating 

" Funeral marches '' all of the time ; — 
Life is quite long enough, although 'tis fleeting, 

To vary the music part of the time. 
Although some notes maj be written in sadness, 

To chasten the heart or soften the tone ; 
The key note of nature's own music is gladness, 

And he who is wise will make it his own. 

II. 

I wouldn't give much for the ** drum " that is " muffled " 

In the hands of a boy on the Fourth of July. 
I'm thinkine of something, that then would be shuffled 

Aside in disdain, or knocked into pi. 
Just think of the heart of the Belle of the Season, 

How it leaped in its freedom of note and of song I 
Such ''funeral marches" it beats, I have reason 

To know, are not ''muffled" — I've followed too long. 

III. 

The man who will think that life is all sorrow, 

A pathway of sadness, darkness and eloom — 
Who looks not for sunshine and bright skies to-morrow, 

Because his " to-day " is a mouldering tomb — 
Is a man I wouldn't nve much for, I'm certain ; 

He's a ''supe" in the play, if not in the plot — 
Always is hissed, when m m>nt of the curtedn. 

And always is hissing when he is not 

IT. 

But pye me the hearts, that when aged and weary, 

SUil beat to the measure of earlier years ; 
That, when life does become outwardly dreary, 

Retain the sweet notes that drown sorrow and fears ; 
And when they approach the calm, flowing river. 

Where Charon is waiting — life's duties done — 
Then let their elad notes sound forth to the Giver, 

Their triumphant march for victory won 1 



«•< 



THE TURNIP-COUNTER. 



THIBD LiaSND. 



Translated from the Oerman, 

BT p. 9. J0HN80K. 

Not always was Turnip-Counter in a 
humor thus generously to repay the ii\ju- 
ry and damage his mischief had occa- 
sioned ; far oftener, he acted the ma- 
licious imp, rather firom habit than oth- 
erwifle» who cared little whether he ban- 



tered the villain or gentleman. He would 
offer himself as a guide to the eolitary 
traveler, make him lose his way, perhaps, 
and leave him, with a laugh of derision, 
on a mountain precipice, or in a bog. 
The timid market woman he would scare, 
on the road, in the shape of some mon- 
strous quadruped. In faot, it ie well 
known that the Rysow, an aoimal in 
many respects like the leopard, as seen 
at certain times among tiie Sndetio moan- 



THE TURNIP-COUNTER. 



375 



tuDS, would be nothing else bat a phan- 
tom of Tamip-Oonnter. Often, he lamed 
the rider's hone, so that he woold be un- 
able to more ; breaks for the teamster a 
wheel or an azletree, or rolls, from a high 
plaee, a bonlder down the eafion at his 
Tory feet, whieh would cost ineffable 
tronble to remove from the narrow road. 
Then, agun, an inrisible power defies 
the exertions of six strong horses, to poll 
an empty wagon; thej can not badge it 
an inch, and the teamster soon under- 
stands from what comer the wind is 
blowing ; although, if he should loee his 
temper and swear a little at the provok- 
ing mountain goblin, a swarm of hornets 
would soon tiekle his horses, and, as an 
oftet, perhaps a substantial thrashing 
wouM tiekle the groom himself. 

With an old shepherd, a plain, honest 
soul, he had made himself acquainted, 
and even contracted a sort of friendship, 
allowing him the privilege of driving hb 
herd to the very edgee of the gnome's 
garden — an attempt that any other per- 
son would have paid dearly for. Some- 
times the spirit would listen to the old 
fellow's insignificant exploits, with an 
intere st no less intent than that with 
which Hans Hubrig's biographer swal- 
lowed the joys and sorrows €f his hero, 
as related by the old farmer himsOlf; but 
Turnip-Counter would not have told them 
in so insipid a manner. Once, however, 
oM ''Nick" stepped on the spirit's toe, 
for while his herd, as usual, fed upon 
privileged ground, several sheep broke 
through the garden fence, and betook 
themselves to the grass plots, which dot- 
ted the garden. This incensed friend 
Tumip-Counter to such a degree as to 
let a panic seiie upon the herd of sheep, 
making them run down the hill in the 
grealssi confusion, causing many of them 
to eome to harm ; and the old shepherd 
■ever recovered from the shock for the 
rest of his days. 
The physician from Schmiedeberg, 



jogging about the Riesengebirge on his 
favorite hobby, botany, also had the hon- 
or to amuse the gnome, who, as wood- 
chopper or traveler sometimes kept him 
company, and listened to the recital of 
the wonderful cures of this EseulapiuB, 
for whom, in return, he carried the heavy 
package of samples and acquainted him 
with many of their secret healing powers. 
The doctor, thinking himself, in botanies, 
far above a wood-cutter, took things 
amiss, put on Mrs, and hinted that the 
cobbler had better stick to bis sole leath** 
er, neither ought the drudge to lecture the 
physician. "Now, my fine fellow, a^ 
thou pretendest to know aU about sam- 
ples and simples, from the hyssop on the 
wall to the cedar of Lebanon, perhaps 
thou canst tell me, wise Solomon, which 
was first, the acorn or the oak tree ? " 

The spirit answered: "I>oubtless the 
tree, because the fruit grows on the tree." 

" Fool I '' exclaimed the doctor ; "from 
what grew the first tree, if not from the 
seed the fruit contained?'' 

The woodman replied : " WeU, I own 
this to be a sharp question, and beyond 
my understanding. However, I, too, 
have a quesdon to ask : to whom belongs 
the spot whereon we stand — to the king 
of Bohemia, or the sire of the mountains t" 
(Such was the appellation bestowed up- 
on the gnome, by the "knowing ones," 
after they had understood **7\imip'Cfouni'- 
«r" to be worse than contraband in the 
mountains, as black optics, and bine spots 
all over their bodies, were consequent 
upon its use.) The doctor was not long 
at fault for an answer : 

" I am certain this place belongs to my 
lord, the King of Bohemia ; as for Tar^ 
nip-Counter, he's only a bng^bear to give 
children fits." 

No sooner had these words escaped his 
lips, than the wood-chopper transformed 
himself into a horrid giant; who, with 
glaring looks, and quick gestures, tban- 
dered forth, in the doctor's ear: " Behold 



376 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFOKXIA MAGAZINE. 



him here ! Tarnip-Counter will let thee 
know how to remember him/' and, collar- 
ing him, made him perform some feats in 
groand and lofty tumbling, sach as the 
Devil formerly subjected doctor Faust to 
in the play, knocked out one of his eyes, 
and left him for dead on the spot ; con- 
sequently, the sage, ever afterwards, felt 
an aversion to hunt for simples among 
the mountain crags. 

If it was easy to lose the Turnip-Count- 
er's friendship, it was no less easy to 
gain it. A peasant, in the county of 
Reichenberg, became despoiled of his 
property in a civil suit ; and, after justice 
had appropriated his last cow in its own 
behalf, a grief-stricken wife and half a 
dozen children were left him, half of 
whom he would willingly have given the 
court in security for the payment of his 
debt, instead of the last of his cattle, if 
it had been so inclined. True, he had a 
pair of strong arms yet, but it required 
something more to support his family. 
How it pained his heart to hear his young 
raveDB cry for food, without having any 
to satisfy their hunger. 

" A hundred dollars,'' he said to his 
despairing wife, " would give us a start, 
and once more we might try to build us 
a home. Thou hast rich cousins beyond 
the mountains, aud I feel like going to 
lay our misery before them ; who knows 
but some of them may take pity upon us, 
and lend us what we stand in need of, 
for interest." 

The wife, although with little hope of 
success, assented, because she knew noth- 
ing better. The husband, before he went 
on his errand, cheered the mother and 
children, saying, "Don't cry; something 
whispers in my heart, that a benefactor 
will not fail us at the last moment." 
With a hard crust of bread in his pocket, 
for dinner, he started. Tired and worn 
out by a glowing hot sun and the long 
road, he reached the village in the even- 
ing, where the rich cousins resided, with- 



out their deigning to acknowledge him 
or offer him a night's shelter. He stated 
his troubles, with heart-burning tears ; 
but the mean niggards did not care a fig, 
and rather insulted the poor man by re- 
proaches and smart sayings. One re- 
marked, "young fellow, save theyeUow;" 
another, "pride before prudence;" a 
third, "ruings like doings;" and the 
fourth, "a good smith neglects not to 
strike the iron while hot." Thus he waa 
scoffed and railed at, called a prodigal 
and vagabond, and the doors closed upon 
him. After all, such a reception from 
his wife's rich relatives, he had not an- 
ticipated. Silent and sorrowful he went 
away, and, without money to pay his 
night's lodging, sought shelter beside a 
haystack, in the field, where, restless, he 
awaited the break of day to start for 
home. Once more among the mountain 
glens, despair nearly overpowered him. 
"I have lost two days' work," he reflect- 
ed, " and am nearly used up with fatigue, 
without hope for the better. On my re- 
turn home, six poor worms wiU crave 
food, and I shall only be able to offer 
them a stone for a loaf of bread ! Oh 1 
can a father's heart bear it? Break, 
poor heart, before beholding such mis- 
ery." His mind full of dark, wild 
thoughta, he threw himself beneath a 
black thorn. 

Stood the reader ever on the brink of 
dire despair? If so, he knows how then 
and there the maddened brain busied it- 
self, stirring up every nook and comer 
for a happy thought, that might save him 
from pending ruin ; he understands why 
the drowning mariner clings to a straw, 
the hopeless prisoner courts liberty, and 
he will understand, too, how Yeit, among 
a thousand strange ideas, chose to call 
on the spirU of the mountains for succor, 
in his present situation. Many were the 
floating stories, how travelers had found 
themselves in a precious stew, and also 
how they got out of many a nice pickle, 



TAB TURNIP-COUNTER. 



377 



throQgh hia miraouloiis agency. Yeit 
w«a well aware that *^ Turnip- Counter " 
was not the proper title bj which to ad- 
dreM ao diatingaiBhed a lord ; yet, know- 
ing no other, what oonld he do but call, 
eren at the risk of some hard knocks. 

"Tnraip-Goanterl Tumip-Goanter r 

He had not long to wait, before a dirty 
chaNoal burner, with fiery red beard, 
read&ing down to his girdle; red, glar- 
ing eyee, and a long pole, for a poker, in 
his hand, stood before him, all ready to 
tap the insolent scoffer on the head. 

"JjTo offence, I hope, Mr.Tumip-Gonnt- 
erT" Yeit said to him, quite reckless in 
his desperate mood. *'If I, perchance, 
called you by the wrong name, listen 
only, then act its you please.'' 

There was something in the address 
and troubled features of the man, that 
did not look exactly like provocation, and 



delayed the spirit's intended salutation. 

'' Worm of the soil," he said, '* what 
art thou about, in disturbing me 7 Know- 
est thou that thy neck must pay this in- 
solence?" 

*'Sir," the 'worm of the soil' respond- 
ed, ** necessity is said to be the mother 
of inyention ; it compels me to craye a 
boon you may easily grant. Pray, loan 
me a hundred dollars; I make myself 
responsible to return them, with interest, 
three years from date; upon my soul I 
do!" 

''Dunce I" said the spirit, "am I a 
usurer or broker, who lends on interest? 
Ask thy brethren for the * filthy lucre ' 
thou art in want of, but let me alone." 

" Ah I " responded Veit, "there's the 
rub I On matters of mine and thine, the 
brethren are very thin skinned." 
[7b be continued,] 



•«««•*< 



(^ut Satiul €\ux. 



UPON how many persons does your 
eye rest, gentle reader, who hsTe 
Ufed, and perhaps still lire, entirely 
ia the futare ; to whom the present, with 
all its snnny seasons, its ennobling asplra- 
tioas, its serene pleasures, its happy de- 
lights, and joy-thrilling emotions, have no 
existence whatever. The bright sun, the 
green earth, the fragrant flowers, the gold- 
en clouds, the blue sky, the cheery song of 
birds, and a thousand other external 
charms for the senses — ^good and gracious 
gifts of an all-wise God — ^have no happi- 
neaa-creating mission. When this fayorite 
goal is reached, or that plan is ftilly ri- 
pened and deycloped ; when fortune smiles 
and riches are gathered ; at that particular 
time, there and then, *' they intend to en- 
joy Ills as they should " I It may be pos- 
sible that lo yery many of us may come 
the accusatory truism, — *<Thou art the 



! 



ff 



Now, supposing that nine out of every 
ten — ^which is a very moderate estimate- 
never reach that hoped-for haven, that 
long wished for oasis in the (to them) des- 
ert of life ; what is there gained, or rather 
how much is there lost, by neglecting the 
perpetually passing pleasures of the pres- 
ent, to live only in the future ? 

We have but one life to live ; let us en- 
joy it as fully as possible while it flies. 
We do not mean that we should squander 
away our means, or time, or health, in 
expensive dressing or riotous living. 
Nor do we mean that we should spend that 
money, which, if properly hoarded, would 
lay the foundation for future competenee ; 
for that would be killing the goose that 
lays the golden eggs. But we do mean 
that we should look out upon the world, 
and see all its soul-gladdening beauties, 
that we might drink inspiration fh>m its 
perennial pleasures; that we should look 



380 



HUTCHINGS' OAUPORNIA MAGAZINE. 



when the fruit ia ripened, it is meet it 
should be gathered ; and when the birds 
haye cheered a summer season, that thej 
should depart. And why let the thought 
make us melancholy ? Though the same 
flowers and birds may never come again, 
yet other flowers will bloom as brightly, 
and other birds sing as sweetly, to cheer 
another as fair a season. So we will not be 
melancholy, when we think that there will 
come a day when a voice, which, though 
it was harsh and discordant, and tried the 
patience of its hearers, had become dear 
by long association, shall be heard no 
more ; and, surprised at the dread stillness, 
you shall glance towards the corner allot- 
ted to this old Invalid Chair, and see only 
a void where it once stood — for it will have 
been gathered to the common resting-place 
of chairs. And in that day, when some 
unfriendly tongue shall harshly scan its 
faults, saying, " It was a silly old twattler, 
that chattered like a brainless magpie, pre- 
suming upon our patient sympathy for its 
infirmities," will some gentle Griffith find 
a single virtue to commend, or teach char- 
ity toward the memory of Chairs ? 

Thi Invalid Chaib. 



Dear Mb. Social Chaib : — Perhaps you 
will allow a second **Teacher's Chair " room 
at your ample fire side ''for one night only." 
I dislike exceedingly to be obtrusive, well 
knowing m 1 do that there is no possible 
chance of your finding the " Philosopher's 
stone " in any of my family. 

We are grumblers, sir, by the stern law 
of necessity ; and the sweet angel, content- 
ment, rarely, if ever, hovers over our des- 
tinies. You will not wonder, therefore, 
that upon reading the following in one of 
our daily papers, not long since, we creaked 
and groaned in every joint, upset our ink- 
stand, blotted our roll-book, drew a long 
scowl down over our eye-brows, and wound 
up by threshing half a dozen unforiunate 
urchins who dared to laugh at our evident 
discomfiture. The extract is from a report 
of a meeting of the Board of Education — 
that terrible bng-a-boo to all of us who do 



not have implicit faith in our own infalli- 
bility, and is as follows : — 

" Mr, introdueed a resolution direetmg 

the grammarnuuters not to review their daaeei 
exeeptinff upon such days as heretofore designO' 
ted hy this board; " and then the resolution 
was explained — probably for the benefit of 
an enlightened public — as follows :— 

"The object being to prevent the teachers 
from spending the last five or six toeeks of the 
term in prqMoing their classes for ezamuustion.^' 

Now, sir, we consider that too bad by 
several degrees. In the first place, is the 
public to be informed that we, the poor, 
unfortunate teacher's chairs, have no high- 
er aim or ambition than to make puppet 
shows of our schools, for the purpose of 
gratifying its (the public's) well known 
taste for such things ? Are parents to be 
made to think that we stu£f and cram the 
intellectual maws of their children, as mar- 
ket men " stuff" their poultry— just before 
some feast day, to make up for lost time? 

Are the people to think that our pupils 
are allowed to run at large, picking up a 
crumb here^ and a grain there, until the 
near approach of " thanksgiving " — ^vaca- 
tion — ^and then are shut up and overfed and 
fattened for the enjoyment or satisfaction 
of others I If such has been the practice 
in the past, why has not the Board of Ed- 
ucation whose duty it undoubtedly is to 
look after the best interests of the schools, 
found it out before 7 But it is not so. — 
Coming from whatever source the soft im- 
peachment may, we come down very em- 
phatically upon the floor, and stake the 
hard earned reputation of years upon its 
denial. 

Again, and in less of the creaking tone, 
(we have seen hard service, kind sir, and 
rough usage has somewhat rubbed off the 
polish of our younger days) is it within the 
province of the Board of Education from 
their rooms in the City Hall, to govern the 
public schools, in every minutia^ better or 
more successfully than the teachers them- 
selves ? Or is there or can there be any 
one complete system of government or in- 
struction that can be applied with equal sac- 



OUR SOCIAL CHAIR. 



381 



cess to all of the schools of the citj, 
or an J two of them? If there be, then is 
teaching reduced to something below a 
science, and some ingenious yankee might 
nake a fortnne hj patenting a machine that 
voald perform onr duties in one tenth of 
the time and at one half of the expense — 
besides, a perfect *' uniformity " would be 
secured. 

But we contend that the good teacher 
will constantly encounter difficulties which 
no foresight or experience could hare caused 
hiffl to anticipate — contingencies which 
would demand exceptions to any set of uni- 
fonn rules and regulations. Indeed, the 
best teacher is he who is in himself suffi- 
cient for every exigency of his Yocation ; 
who least encumbers himself and his school 
with arbitrary rules; who governs as a 
ftood parent governs, and like him instructs. 
We think there are such in this city — 
trachers who know what is for the best in- 
terests of the schools under their charge, 
ud who are willing and anxious to labor 
for it 

^> contend also that the faith/id teacher 
will ccnetantly *' review " his classes, every 
day if necessary, and that they will always 
^ " prepared *' for an examination. We 
pat no faith in the "cramming" process, 
even when it is done for the purpose of 
forcing pupils to complete a required 
coarse in a specified time. Our practice 
sod theory is to teach well what we teach 
at all, and to review the classes whereever 
•ad whenever we think best for them. Are 
we right, Mr. Social Chair ? If so, give us 
the sympathizing hand of fellowship, and 
wf will return to our duties in the morning 
iDTigorated from having met yon in a lis- 
tening humor. 

Truly Yours, 

Tcachrb's Chaib No. 2. 

Wnat passing an evening at the house 
of Judge S., the stars ^ere suddenly ex- 
tinguished by a canopy of clouds, and a 
merry shower of rain-drops commenced 
tilling. It had long since been " dark un- 
der the Uble,'' and Nellie S., a little three- 



year-old, was reminded by her mother that 
it was "time for Uttle folks to retire.*' She, 
however, obtained the privilege of a few 
minutes delay, during which time she stood 
at the window, following with her fingers 
the rain-drops, as they trickled down the 
panes. Suddenly, she stopped, and, look- 
ing up sorrowfully, said : 

" The stars are all crying, to-night." 

" And what are they crying about ?" I 
asked. 

"I don't know," she replied, "but I 
guess," and here she gave a long drawn 
sigh, "I guess it is because they were sent 
to bed so early." 

There was no resisting such an appeal 
as that, and Nellie was allowed to choose 
her own bed time that evening. 

Onk day the teacher was giving a class 
of small girls and boys some oral instruc- 
tions in grammar, and, to illustrate the 
nature and use of adjectives, gave them 
the noun "moon" to qualify. "New" 
moon, said one, "full" moon, another, 
"silver" moon, a third, and so on, through 
"shiny," "bright," "pretty," Ac, until the 
list seemed entirely exhausted, and the 
teacher, herself, could think of no others. 
Little Tommy R., a roguish fellow^ some- 
what proud of his smartness, and, withal, 
quite a favorite of his teacher's, jumped 
up and raised his hand. 

"Well, Tommy?*' enquired the teacher. 

"^Toncy-mooa," said Tommy, with a glow 
of pride, " Fve heard my mother teU about 
it!" 

Tommy took the first prise that term. 

A GOOD story is told of old Deacon B., 
away up in New Hampshire. He was rid- 
ing along in his old sleigh, one frosty morn- 
ing, and overtook a tow-headed shaver of 
some ten years old. Being piously inclined, 
the old deacon opened his batteries as 
follows : 

" My little man, don't you think yon 
ought to attend to the conversion of your 
soul?" 

"Hey?" 



382 



eUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



'' Don't yon think, my fine fellow, it is 
time to be thinking abont another world ? *' 

" Well, y-e-e-8, father says he thinks it 
is, for old Deacon B. has got abont all of 
this world/' 

The deacon clncked at the old mare, and 
disappeared in a twinkling. 



No change in Bonnets need be expected 
for two months yet. 

Headdresses and dress-caps continue to 
be as much worn, if not more, than at any 
previous time. Black caps, trimmed with 
gay colors, in fringes and flowers, are in 
high favor for home toilet. 

Brtfses— N(0lige, ot ftonu. 

A white ground cashmere, with small 

spots of embroidery silk, set wide apart, 
cut robe de ckambre^ bordered with puffed 
sitin, and confined by bows of ribbon, to 
match the color of the embroidery. Small 
rounded collar ; sleeves wide. Pagoda and 
slit up underneath ; muslin chemisettes, 
with two fluted ruffles; muslin under- 
sleeves, with cuffs upturned and ruffled. 
Black cap, trimmed in narrow velvet ro- 
settes. 

Vsll arcMM. 

Pink ** taffetas," three flounces of chan- 
tilly lace, headed by a narrow bias ruffle 
of the silk, pinked at each edge ; low cor- 
sage, trimmed with chantilly bertha, or, if 
preferred, a pink fringe, pointed in front, 
so as nearly to reach the waist, and plain 
around the shoulders, and black short 
sleeves with long flowing one of tdlle, trim- 
med with a narrow riiche ; headdress of 
pink roses ; necklace of jet, and gold brace- 
let to match. 

Dark green Irish poplin ; the skirt is to 
be made very full. Cloak of black velvet, 
cut in the form of the talma. Bonnet of 
black and cherry velvet, trimmed with 
black lace and red roses. 



SIoTtt^IS $uorb of ftnntni t,htxd%. 

The P. M. S. Co.'s steamship J. L. Ste- 
phens, arrived on the 26th, with 690 pas* 
lengen. 



A German weekl^ P<^pof| entitled the 
Califomia Chronik BeUetristiieku Wocia- 
blait^ was commenced in this city on the 
1st ult. 

According to the Daily National, the to- 
tal number of deaths, in this city, for 
1859, is as follows : under 6 years of age, 
629 ; between the ages of 6 and 10 years, 
84 ; between 10 and 20 years, 49 ; between 
20 and 40 years, 439 ; between 40 and 60 
years, 218; upwards of 60 years, 27; still 
bom, 43; grand total, 1,589. 

The total amount of fines by the Police 
Judge of San Francisco, for the year 1859, 
was $20,620 42. 

Mr. J. C. Pelton gave a Social Festival in 
the Hyde Street Public School, San Fran- 
cisco, Dec. 27th, in honor of the tenth 
anniversary of the city free schools. 

Snow fell at the Mono diggings, during 
the past month, to the depth of five feet 

The new iron steamship Champion, of 
the Pacific and Atlantic Steamship Co., 
arrived on the 1st ulC, in sixty running 
day from New York, through the straits of 
Magellan. 

The eleventh session of the State Legis- 
lature was opened in Sacramento on the 
2nd ult. 

The San Francisco Branch Mint was re- 
opened on the 3rd ult., when there wm 
3,244 29-100 ounces of gold, and 18,348 
60-100 ounces of silver deposited, before 2 
o'clock, P. M. 

Considerable suffering has been experi- 
enced at Washoe, from the scarcity of 
clothing, food, and sleeping accommodA- 
tions. 

A block of silver ore, from the Ophir lead, 
Washoe, weighing 160 pounds, and val- 
ued at $ 600, was sent by the citizens of ' 
Nevada Territory to the Washington mon- i 
ument. | 

The steamship Northerner, which left 
San Francisco for Portland, Oregon, on the 
4th ult., on the following day struck a 
sunken rock off Point Mendocino, and be* 
came a total wreck, with the loss of 38 
lives. 

The mail steamer Cortex arrived on the 
3rd ult., with 550 passengers, 1,253 pack* 
ages of freight, and 260 bags of U. S- mail. 

At the Washoe diggings, twelve feet of 
the Mexican silver lead, Virginia City, 
sold for $12,000. 

The steamships Golden Age and Cham- 
pion sailed on the 5th ult. ; the former with 
371 passengers and $1,777,006, and the 
latter with 283 passengers and $94,500 ia 



EDITOR'S TABLE. 



383 



gold ban. By the Age, the rates of pas- 
sage were, saloon, $150 ; first cabin, $107 ; 
Mcond cabin, $60, steerage, $4*7 50 By 
tbe Champion, first cabin, $107 ; second 
cabin, $70 ; third cabin, $47 50. 

A nev express has been established be- 
tween San Francisco and New York, en- 
titled the Atlantic and Pacific Express Go. 

On the 9th ult. the Hon. M. 8. Latham 
was formally inaagarated, at Sacramento, 
as GoYemor of California ; and on the 1 1th 
was elected U. S. Senator, by the State 
Legislature, for the unexpired term of Sen- 
ator D. 0. Broderick. 

New gold and silver mines have been dis- 
coTered at St. Helen's mountaiui Napa 
coanty. 

Tbe P. U. S. Co.'s steamer Golden Gate, 
arrired on the 9th ult. with 615 passengers. 
Tbe through trip was accomplished in 20 
days and 6 hours, from New York, the fast- 
est time on record. 

Bight miles east of Genoa, Carson Val- 
ley, a new and rich vein of copper ore has 
been discovered. 

A vein of silver ore has been discovered 
in Dog Town Gulch, near West Point, Cal- 
averas county. 

Tbe first number of a daily paper, en- 
titled the " San Jose Horning Reporter," 



edited by W. F. Stewart, was published by 
G H. Winterburn k Co., on the 16th ult 

Strawberries, grown in the open air, . 
have been for sale during the month at 
Savory it Co.'s stand, in the Washington 
market, at $2 per pound. 

The President's Message, telegraphed to 
the San Francisco Evening Bulletin fVom 
St. Louis to Maloy's Station, from thence 
brought overland by stage to Firebaugh's 
Ferry, and from whence it was telegraphed 
to this city, was received in 12 days and 17 
hours from Washington. 

The J. L. Stephens and Cortes sailed for 
Panama on the 20th ult. ; the former with 
$1,506,025 treasure, and 352 passengers ; 
and the latter with the U. S. mails and 204 
passengers. 

The printing telegraph, a combination of 
the inventions of Morse, House and Hughes, 
was opened for free exhibition, in this city, 
on the 20th ult. 

Truckee river valley and Pyramid Lake 
valley, and a portion of Walker's Lake val- 
ley, have been set apart as a Reservation 
for the Pah Utah Indians. 

On the 22nd ult the Chinese, through- 
out the State, celebrated their New Year 
with great eclat 



»m9^t 



i^Htor's CaHe. 



Br RING the present month, the At- 
lantic and Pacific Railroad Con- 
vention meet by appointment at 
the State Capital. Their object doubtless 
is to present some well considered plan for 
the construction of the Railroad, to the 
consideration of both houses of the State 
Legislature. For its success every devout 
lover of California accords his most anxious 
desire and prayer. The commencement of 
this great work has too long been delayed ; 
bat new we trust it has fully come. The 
people, with earnest hearts, are relying 
opon the Convention and the Legislature 
for such measures as shall place its imme- 
diate construction beyond a doubt May 
they not rely in vain. 
We bnve just cause of complaint that 



our correspondence and newspapers by sea 
are so long in reaching us from the other 
side of the continent The change from 
the Pacific Mail Steamship Company to 
the Atlantic and Pacific Mail Steafiship 
Company, has been attended thus far with 
no favorable results, and we fear will not 
be. It is, however, but simple justice to 
the last mentioned line to say, that, but for 
the accident to the North Star a few months 
ago, the time made would about average 
that of the former line. Yet, since the 
transfer, the P. M. S. Co.'s steamers have 
made by far the best time. We regret that 
this was not done before, when they car- 
ried the mail, as that would have obviated 
the necessity of a change, and would have 
had iti effect npon the Government when 



384 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



This month we wish to saj a word to 
our contributors and readers. It has been, 
and is, a source of disappointment and sor- 
row, that literary contributions, as yet, in 
California, cannot be paid for. Our circu- 
lation is larger, by far, than any other 
monthly on the Pacific coast ; and yet, as 
we hare but this State, while those at the 
east have the whole United States, it has 
been too limited to allow of compensation 
to writers. We would, however, as ever, 
gratefully tender our most hearty thanks 
to those kind friends who have favored us, 
from time to time, with their valuable and 
gratuitous articles, assuring them of our 
hope that the time will come, when it will 
be otherwise. The extremely low price at 
which we put the California Magazine, es- 
pecially as the cost of labor and material 
is so great, in this State, was with the ear- 
nest desire that its very extensive circula- 
tion would justify us in rendering substan- 
tial proof of our appreciation of the labors 
of those who favored us with articles for 
publication. We have been led into these 
remarks by the frequent inquiry, " If we 
pay anything for contributions." If our 
subflcriberB and readers will double their 



the last contract was given out. In order 
to secure the expeditious transmission of 
California mail matter by sea, we would 
respectfully submit that a contract for three 
months only should be given, and that line 
which makes the best average time during 
that period should have it for the three 
months ensuing. There may be some dif- 
ficulty in carr}*ing out this plan, but it 
would certainly ultimate to the advantage 
of the public. 

One Important movement of the Postmas- 
ter General in favor of California, is the 
order recently forwarded for all letters not 
marked " Via Panama," to be sent over- 
land. This of itself is suggestive of the 
good- will of the Government towards con- 
tinuing the Overland Mail service. We 
will also interpret this as a favorable au- 
gury for a Pacific Railroad Bill during the 
present session of Congress. 



number of copies, we can then happily re- 
spond to the inquiry, with a most cordial 
"Yes." 



Since our last issue, new and expensive 
discoveries of gold, silver, cinnabar and 
copper have been announced in Tarious 
portions of the State ; and although many 
of the statements are no doubt exag^gerat- 
ed, in the main the facts are reliable. 
These will have their effect in adding to 
our present solidity and worth as a State. 
Besides, they will give additional excite- 
ment to persons who are of a roving and 
unsettled disposition ; of whom, alas I there 
are too many among us. And, what is of 
much greater importance, employment will 
be given to a number of industrions men. 
now much in need of it. 



So Aontrilmtors anb AmtsjfonbndB, 

If,, OrovUle, — ^No, we cannot. 

iV. B. T. — The series of articles on the 
Yo-Semite Valley we shall complete in 
the next number. 

O. A, — Thank you for your good, cordial 
letter. We shall endeavor to profit bj 
your suggestions. 

8. — Some respectable intelligence office 
would be better. 

EUen B. — Your valentine came too late. 

R, — At which end do you wish as to com- 
mence the reading of your manuscript ? ' 

C. — ^The whole of your interesting storr i 
came safely to hand. 

O. R. — If you were to spend as much time 
on a good prose article, as you do on 
your poetic ones, you would become one 
of the first writers of the day ; bat you 
evidently have no ear for measure or 
euphony. Your thoughts are very good, 
and we shall welcome a prose article 
from your pen, for we feel perfectly sat- 
isfied that you can write one. 

Several other favors are received, but 
too late for examination this month. 



HUTCHINGS' 

CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



Vol. IV. 



u^PRIL, 1860. No. 10. 



K0TE8 AND SKETCHES OF THE WASHOE C30UNTRT. 



Timonru ctrr amb trb counoat uad. 



J» TAlLtlfO onnelTN of the topo- 
^ft graphic knovledga and artiaUo 
*^*«kill qf a. g«ntl«mui roMntlf i»- 
tomed from tha rich tilTer mluM, out 
of Ui« Sterra Neradm, «• praMnt the 
ptttnma df oar maguina with a lifft-like 
Tivw Of'HTanl unportanl looalidM In 



that regloQ. The lint of tb«M ii a ekatch 
of the oelebrated Comitock lead, with the 
adjacaot miuog hamlet of Virginia Ci^. 
Thie lead, at the point exhibited in onr 
oat, being that at which the rich lilvar 
ore wat flnt itraok, ia about fifteen milea 
in a direct line north of Canon City; 



434 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



and nearly twenty miles, going by the 
wagon road. It is situated nearly half- 
way up the eastern slope of a mountain 
spur branching off from the Sierra, near 
Carson City, and running north to the 
Truckee river. This spur has since been 
yery appropriately named the Silver 
Range. It is about 2,500 feet high, and 
separates the main Carson from Washoe 
Valley. It is almost entirely destitute 
of vegetation, there being but little grass 
and only a few stunted pines and cedars 
scattered over it, with a small grove of 
tall trees at two or three points along it« 
summit. ^ 

Running along its sides are numerous 
ledges of quartz rock, cropping out in 
places for a considerable distance. Some 
of these are much decomposed on the 
surface, and by being worked, either by 
means of washing or crushing, yiejd va- 
rious amounts of the precious metals, 
being a mixture of gold and silver. It 
was while working one of these veins, 
last spring, that James Finney, better 
known as *' old Virginia,^' came upon the 
rich silver ore which has since been taken 
out in such large quantities and rendered 
the Comstock lead so famous. Finney 
worked the vein as a placer claim, taking 
out a species of gold dust depreciated 
with silver, and making twenty or thirty 
dollars a day to the hand. But, coming 
at length upon the worthless blite staffs 
as he termed it, but in reality the rich 
sulphurets, he became disgusted with his 
luck, and not being longer able to make 
whiskey money, parted with his claim, 
selling it to five men, named Comstock, 
Penrod, Corey, Reilly and McLaughlin, 
the consideration being an ancient horse, 
with thin flesh and a short dock. Most 
of these men with hardly a better appre- 
ciation of the property they had acquired 
than the original vendor, shortly after 
parted with their interests in it for a mere 
nominal consideration. McLaughlin, 
who sold to Hearst and Morrison, getting 



$3,500 ; Penrod and Comstock, who sold 
to Walsh, getting the former $5v000 and 
the latter $6,000; and Corey, who sold to 
Beard k Co., getting $7,000 for his share. 
Reilly, who did not sell until five months 
after, gpt $40,000, besides his (hare of 
the ore previously taken out. The entire 
claim of these parties as it originally 
existed, was eighteen hundred feet long 
and one hundred feet wide — being fifty 
feet on each side the vein, and running 
downward as far as it extended, or they 
might choose to go. This claim was after- 
wards reduced to fourteen hundred feet, 
so that they conveyed at the time of sell- 
ing, two hundred and thirty-three and 
one-third feet a piece; of that portion 
parted with prior to the sale, one hun- 
dred feet was given to Comstock and 
Penrod, as their exclusive property, in 
exchange for a small water privilege 
owned by them and necessary to the 
working of their united claim by the 
Company. This one hundred feet, situa- 
ted four or five rods north of the excava- 
tion from which the rich ore was first 
taken, was afterwards sold to some Mex- 
icans, and was thenceforth known as the 
Mexican or Meldenado claim. It has 
since proved exceedingly valuable,- and 
being in a more satisfactory condition as 
to title and possession, commands a high- 
er price in the market than any other 
portion of this lead. It is the most 
northerly point on the Comstock vein, at 
which the rich sulphurets hav« been 
struck in any quantity, though about one- 
half of this claim lies beyond it 

Going south, we have next to the Mex- 
ican, the Ophir Company — two hundred 
feet, about the center of which the first 
discovery of silver was made ; next the 
Central Company, one hundred and fiffy 
feet ; then fifty feet, a part of the original 
Corey claim, and finally the California 
Company's Claim of two hundred and 
fifty feet, which disposes of the Comstock 
Claim as it originally existed; though 



NOTES AND SKETCHES OF THE WASHOE COUNTRY. 



435 



the Mme Tein has since been traced some 
disttDoe, both north and south, and a 
great number of claims have been looat* 
ed on this supposed extension thereof. 
For more than a mile towards the south, 
the Comstock lead can be easily traced 
and identified, both by its oontinnity and 
the rieh character of the rock. Beyond 
the California Claim, in this direction, 
rery raluable onicroppings have been met 
wilh at several points, more especially on 
what is known as the Qould and Curry, 
and on the Hale and Norcross Claims. 
Here better surface rock has been ob- 
tained than was first met with on the 
Comstock Claim itself. In consequence 
of these discoTeries, the prices of these 
claims have gone up to enormous figures 
—even so high, it is said as $700 per 
foot. 

Not only has this wonderful silver lode 
been found to extend itself longitudinally, 
but parallel veins have been formed in 
doea proximity, proving that the argen- 
tiferous deposits of this locality spread 
in every direction. Amongst theee lat- 
eral veins, the Grass Valley, Winnemuo- 
ca, Saeramento, Bryan, Hagen, Ac, are 
reported valuable ; the four last mention- 
ed showing every evidence of being gen- 
ntue silver lodes, of a similar character to 
the Comstock vein. That they possess 
■obslaatial merit, is shown by the high 
firieee they readily command in the mar- 
ket; some of them selling for more than 
the Comstock claim, for a period of sev- 
erml months alVer it had been opened and 
the <|aality of its ores determined. The 
belt of theee rich parallel veins does not 
eeem to be confined to the immediate 
▼iciaity of the Comstock lead; on the 
Rogers vein, several miles to the east, the 
rich ealphurets have been struck and 
traced south across Six Mile Canon into 
ftho Yankee claim, where they reappear 
in mU their richness. At other points in 
the neighborhood, and at those still more 
Boi simply traces of silver, but ore 



assaying hundreds of dollars to the ton 
has been met with. There is therefore 
good reason to believe that this entire 
portion of western Utah abounds in ar- 
gentiferous deposits, many of which will 
be brought to light the present season, 
others perhaps being reserved for future 
exploration. 

The mining hamlet seen in our cut, 
and ridiculously called Virginia City, as 
if in derision of the man whose ill-luck 
it seems designed to perpetuate, sprang 
up during the past summer, but grew 
slowly, owing in part to its unfaTorable 
situation, and still more to the difficulty 
of getting lumber for building. It is ex- 
pected to grow more rapidly this spring, 
though the entire absence of wood, and 
water fit for drinking, in the neighbor^ 
hood, will operate as a great drawback 
on its prosperity. It is also, owing to its 
elevation and exposure, an exceedingly 
cold and dreary place during the winter. 
With water, and fuel, for reducing the 
ores, this could hardly fail to become a 
town of some magnitude. As it is, it 
would be difficult to say much about its 
future. It at present contains about a 
dosen stone houses, two or three times as 
many built of wood, of every size and 
description, with a number of tents, 
shanties, and other temporary abodes. 
Owing to the scarcity of lumber, and the 
difficulty of hauling stones, not a few, on 
the approach of cold weather, dug exca- 
vations in the side hill and, covering 
them with earth, passed the winter there. 

In front of the rich mining claims are 
arastras, at work crushing the decom- 
posed quarts and the poorer class of sil- 
ver ore, that will not pay to be sent to 
San Francisco. Here, also, sre to be 
seen workmen wheeling out, through the 
Of en cuts made at the top, the reruse 
rock, earth, quarts, and the rich sulphur- 
ets; the latter of which are boxed up, 
preparatory to transportation. Scatter- 
ed about the place are the usual para- 



436 



HUTCHINGS' CALITORNIA MAGAZINE. 



pherDalia of a mining oamp, while at va- 
rious points in the yicinitj, are to be seen 
prospecting tunnels, open-cuts and shafts, 
nearly every important clium having had 
some work of this kind performed upon 
it. Cropping out along the hills are nu- 
merous quartz ledges, some of them so 
prominent as to be seen for several miles, 
others barely coming to the surface and 
showing themselves only at intervals. 
The famous Comstock lead is of the lat- 
ter class, and is made conspicuous in our 
picture only because of its great intrin- 
sic value. 

About four miles south of Virginia 
City, is another locality, of such striking 
characteristics that our artist has thought 
worth while bringing it into notice. This 
place is known as the "Devil's Gate,'' 
being a pass in Gold Cation, about twen- 
ty feet wide, with perpendicular Yocky 
walls, running to a great height. Thro' 
this the toll road leads, and besides being 
noticable for its striking and rugged 
features, it has other, and, to the utilita- 
rian, greater attractions, as the center of 
an extended district rich in auriferous 
quarts In the immediate vicinity of the 
"Gate" are several veins of well known 
value, prominent among which are the 
" Twin Lead," the " Bench," the " Bad- 
ger," &o, A few rods below the "Gate" 
a town has recently been laid out, called 
" Silver City." It now contains a dozen 
or two houses, of a temporary character, 
the growth of the place having been re- 
tarded, as have all the towns in this re- 
gion, from scarcity of building material. 
It is situated on both sides of the ravine 
known as Gold Cafion, which is here nar- 
row, affording but little room for a town, 
unless it be carried up against the adjar 
cent hill sides. Several arastras have 
been introduced into the cut, these being 
in constant use for working up the rotten 
quarts, fouiid in most of the surrounding 
claims, and frequently yielding large 
amounts of deteriorated gold. A great 



number of tunnels are being run into 
the hills, hereabout, some of which have 
already struck rich quartz, and the others 
are going on with good prospects of suc- 
cess. Standing below the " Gate," and 
looking west up the cafion, a great num- 
ber of parallel knolls run north, forming 
the base of a rugged mountain in that 
direction. Running horizontally over 
these are numerous quartz ledges, all 
taken up and held at high prices, since 
nearly all have exhibited more or less 
gold. In the back ground, to the west, 
we get a glimpse of the "Silver Range," 
the base about three, and the mimmit 
five miles distant. It is a bold and bar- 
ren chain of hills, about 2,500 feet above 
the level of Carson Valley, which it sep- 
arates from Washoe Valley, lying along 
the western base of this "Range." 
On the left, stretching south from the 
"Gate," are two bluff mountains, be- 
tween which runs the west branch of 
Gold Cafion. The lower, and more prom- 
inent of these, rises to a height of near 
2,000 feet, and having been called by 
some Mexicans, prospecting about it, 
the " Cerro Alto," it still bears that name. 
About half way up it, on the side next 
Gold Cafion, is a "bench," or table, 
across which runs a quartz lead, which, 
having been taken up, it was afterwards 
called the " Bench Claim." 

It is a singular circumstance, that two 
brothers. Englishmen, having gotten the 
idea that silver existed at this spot, pro- 
ceeeed there some three or four years 
ago, sunk a shaft on this " bench," and 
erected a small furnace for smelting the 
ore. One of the brothers dying, the oth- 
er, disheartened, left the place after fill- 
ing up the shaft they had dug, by placing 
timbers transversely across it about twelve 
feet below the mouth, and covering them 
with earth. This would seem to have 
been done that their labors, should thej 
ever be discovered, might not give the 
impression that they had gone far down. 



NOTES AND SKETCHES OF THE WASHOE COUNTRY. 



Tbdr farauM, ft rude sSair, probably ftt 
bttat, bftd also been demolished, knd when 
the writer Tiuted the spot last surdmer, 
DOthing bat a baap of stones and some 
frkgmwits of ob&rco&l remaioed of tbeae 
piooew iilver works, tbas erected by 
tb«s« tll-rat«d brotfaers, so far beyond the 



oonfities of civiliution. The gr*Ta of 
bim wbo perished, is still to be seen by* 
cedar on the hill side, sU trace of the sur- 
Tiver baring been lost; nor would it ever 
hare been known whose work this was, 
but for tbia hint tradition, known only 
to ft few of tba older resideata in these 



parts. That any on« should bare went 
Umts at that early day in tearcb of liWer, 
seemi ■trange enuugh, when taken in 
eoanaetion with the little that wa* then 
known of that remote region, and with 
the ■•tonnding diseoTeries of that metal 
that have lately been made so near by. 
Wbanoa these brothers got their notion 
«f sitrer at that point, what dtscoTeries 
they nay have made, or why nothing fur- 
ther waa ever known of them or tbeir 
labors, remains, as it no doubt ever will, 
amystary. The moat likely solution of 
it IB, that they deriTed the idea from one 
of thoae legendary tales of mineral wealth, 
so oflMi heard and so little heeded, though 
not always devoid of some foundation in 
laet; whila^ as to the brother who came 



away, he may IWTe since followed hia kina 
man to the unknown land ; ortnrrifing, 
have left the oonntry, and perbapa never 
yet BO much as heard of the fabulous tna- 
saree since, fonnd fast by bis aunntsin 

The nest place eEbibited by our artist 
is Carton CUg ; a town that, having 
wholly grown up within the pMt year, 
has already attwned a very raapeetabla 
magnitude ; not only eclipsing it* older 
and politically more favored rival, Qenoa, 
bat advanced rapidly towards the position 
it must hereaner hold, as the great central 
depot, and distributing point of Weatem 
Utah. Thia beantifnlty located and prone 
iaing town is tituated on the west aide of 
Eagle Valley, about eighteen nilee eonth 



438 



HUTCniNGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZIMfi. 



of YirgiDia City, and twelve north of 
Genoa. It stands immediately at the 
foot of the Sierra, which rises behind it 
to a height of more than three thousand 
feet, being oovered with pine forests from 
its base to its summit. Coming down 
from the mountain, and crossing the val- 
ley below, are numerous rivulets of pure 
cold water, which, with the springs found 
on the margin of the plain, afford am- 
ple supplies for the use of the town, 
(through which it courses in channels 
dug for the purpose,) as well as for irri- 
gation. 

Eagle Valley, containing an area of 
nearly one hundred square miles, is it- 
self one of the most beautiful in a long 
series of mountain vales that skirt the 
eastern base of the Sierra. Watered by 
the Carson River on the one hand, and 
by the many rills mentioned on the oth- 
er, with numerous springs, hot and cold, 
pure and mineral, scattered over its sur- 
face ; covered with green sward along its 
western margin, and environed by hills, 
it seems the perfection of landscape 
scenery, and every way fitted for the 
abode of man. Nature, in fact, seems to 
have destined this for an important point 
in the future of this country. Here, by 
the configuration she has impressed upon 
the country, all the great highways seem 
fsompelled to center. Standing at the 
gateways of the Sierra, and on the 
threshold of the Desert, Carson City 
commands the passage, trade and travel 
of both ; while her central position as to 
the mines makes her the supplying agent 
for them ; leaving her future growth to 
be determined only by that of the min- 
eral districts around her. Which way 
soever we wonld proceed from this point, 
a comparatively good natural way opens 
itself to us. Westward, leading out to- 
ward Placerville, a good route is found 
by the old Johnson Trail, over which a 
wagon road, much shorter and better 
than that now traveled by way of Genoa, 



could easily be opened. Going north- 
ward through Washoe, Steamboat and 
Truckee Valleys, by the Henness Pass, 
into the populous mining counties of Cal- 
ifornia, we follow nearly all the way 
along a natural depression with a smooth 
surface, and even surmount the Sierra, 
scarcely being conscious of the rise. This 
town is also on the great Emigrant Trail 
across the Plains; while southward it 
communicates with Carson Valley, the 
Walker River and Mono districta, by 
means of roads, over which, with yery 
trifling expense, heavily laden teams 
might be made to pass. 

Here, also, the entire country to the 
east, and for some distance north, must 
come for lumber, this being the nearest 
point from which supplies of this indis- 
pensable material can be drawn. Inter- 
vening between the country along the 
Lower Carson, including most of the min- 
eral region, so far as discovered, and the 
Sierra Nevada, on which alone trees suit* 
able for lumber abound, is the Silver 
Range, a rugge'd chain, destitute of Umber. 

Carson City is laid out in regular 
squares, the streets being straight and 
wide; and, as the surface is perfectly 
level, no grading or other labor is re- 
quired to prepare the lots for building. 
The soil about it is of suoh a nature 
that neither the mud or dust become ex- 
cessively troublesome at any season of 
the year. Water of the best quality is 
abundant, running through the town ia 
small ditches dug for the purpose. It is 
procured both from the springs adjacent, 
and the streams coming down from the 
mountains, which never fail, winftr or 
summer. There were but two or three 
houses on this spot, one ^ear ago ; now 
there are over one hundred, and there 
would have been more than double that 
number, had lumber been plenty, even at 
the high prices men were willing to pay 
for it. Some of the houses are bnilt of 
adobe, several of them large and sab- 



KOTES AND SKETCHES OF THE WASHOE CCt»rTBT. 



itaBtUI; niUbie mmtoriftl for making 
tbeM, aa well a* brick, baing abntiiUiit 
in tba oeigbborhood. Sereral kilna of 
brick wera barot wiUiin a mila of the 
dty laat ■ninmar. Hoat of the hooaaa, 
bow«var, ara of wood, and §tm9 faw of 
•T«B leaa darable Babatancea. The pei^ 
nanent and floadog populiiion of tbia 
place reachaa from Ud to fifteen bandred, 
and ia rapidlj oa the iDoreaae. Propartj 
haa alao adTaneed at a oorraapondiDg 
r*»a, bat ia atill lar from baTiDg reaobad 
aneli a Sgnre aa tba aitnation and proa- 
peeta of.tbe towB aeam to jnatifj. It 
would of oonraa be too much to affirm 
that tbia mnit poiitiTatj baoome a Urge 
and opalent oitj; but it may aafely be 
aaid, if anj town of magoitade ia to 
apring ap in tbia tranamontana region, 
natora^ aa wall aa tbe mioaral darelop- 
mania being mada, olaarlj indioata tbia 
aa tba iite of it. 
In a rafina two uilea waat of the town. 



in the midat of floe timber, a ateam aaw- 
mill was erected laat fall, but it oould not 
■npplj one titbe of tbe damanda made 
upon it, baiDgof oolf moderatecapaoi^, 
and not kept oonataotlj ranniiig at that. 
Other milla of like kind are about being 
put up, and the proapeot ia that lumber 
will be balb cheap and plentiful before 
the aummer ia faradTaoced. When tbii 
ihall be the eaae, aided b; brick, aand- 
Btone and adobe, with notonlj lime-rock, 
bat a ipeciea of natural cement near at 
hand; witb improrad roadi, and the 
pHMpeet of a beavf immigration meeting 
bare next aaaaon, and a nob mineral dia> 
triet nnfoldiog itaelf all around her. Car- 
ton City Buat become i large and thrir- 
ing Citj, if there ii to be anj anoh witb> 
in the limita of Waatam Utah; and 
eTarjtbing conaidered, it majjoatlybe 
aaid to have a promiaing future before iL 
Tbe next and laat plaoa depicted by 
our artiat ia Oenoa, tba oldaat, and until 



HDTCHINQS' CALIFOSNIA HA6AZINS. 



reoMttl; the largest, town in Western 
Utah. It was first settled by the Mor- 
mons ; who, as earl; as 1&50, erected 
soms cabins here, and afterwards more 
BubBtantial houses, mills, tc. It is baod- 
somely located on the west side of Carson 
Vallej, right under the Sierra, which 
rises abrnptl; orer it, being ooTered fVom 
top to bottom with pine trees, not ver;^ 
large or suitable for lumber, jet, being 
the best to be bad, they are made to an- 
swer every purpose. Genoa, like Carson 
Citj, is well watered, bj a number of 
rilli coming from the mountains and 
flowing through the streets. One of 
these is made to driie both a flour and 
mw-mill,eituatedin the edge of the town, 
as seen in our picture. 

Oenoa contwns about fifty bouses, 
mostly f>am«, a few being of logs or 
adobe. At the time Carson County was 
organited, Genoa was made the count; 
seat, which it has continued to be nomi- 
nally ever since. The U. S. District 
Court was also held here last fall by 
Judge Cradlebangh ; but there is a talk 



of all these oonrfai, as well as the other 
ofBces, whether territorial or belonging 
to the general government, being remov- 
ed to Canon City on the openiog of 
spring. Property has receolty advanced 
somewhat in this place, but not at ench a 
rata aa in its mors fortunate and pro- 
gressive rival, 

Genoa has a resident population of 
about 200. Amongst theseare a nnmber 
of Mormon families, some of whom have 
never left since their first settlement here; 
others are a part of those who having re- 
paired to Salt Lake, at the time of the 
oalliog in of the Saints, and beooming 
disgusted with their experience there, re- 
turned to their old homes, much poorer, 
but hardly wiser for their melancholy 
journey. Adhering to their peculiar no- 
tions, and still cherishing in secret the 
fatal dogmas of their religion, they do 
not readily affiliate with the Gentiles 
around them, nor is there a likelihood of 
any cordial feeling ever existing between 
the two classes. 



WILD FLOWERS OF CALIFORIA. 



CALIFORKf A FLOWEBS. 



In the fengoing baantirol group of 
CalifomU flowen, axeeatad by Mr. Nnhl, 
fron our dimwioga from natare, No. 1 
rapr— «ot« tba Iftrgaat Mid moat oommoD 
Irta of thia aoMt — Iri$ hn^pelala ; the 
Bnw«n p«l« blue, or wbitiih, with deep 
Mm Taioj. Thero ftr« mKaj •peciei of 
the Flear da Lia fonod her«, soma of 
which Bftj prora to ba new. No. 2 ii the 
Westamor PadBo (Falu) Honay-jacUe, 
AMoIca oeddaitatit. Tha flowera ue per- 
feetlj white, exee[>t tbe lower diviaioo of 
ita border, wbiab ia ereuny, or ochreoas 
jeltowiih. Some apecimeoa we bare 
•eea with piak flowera; otben of t 



beantifal yellow eolor. Tbesa pUote Tk 
rj moob in form ; but, when properly 
etadied, we tn latiRfied that BeTtnJ die- 
tinat ipeoiaa may be identifled. 

Thia moat omsmental nndei^brab of 
the An«cie»n foreate " briugs tbe light 
of other daya around ua," and out affao- 
'tiona atUl Hugar fondly in tbe pietarad 
paat, when wa aearobed the wild wood- 
laoda and tbe abady nrampa for the 
9wamp Apple, or Uonayauokle Apple, aa 
we deaignated a kind of delicion* ex- 
oraaoanoa fonnd npon tbam. 

After tha June abowar, what inapm- 
tiona of fragraaea did we then anjoyi 
Hark I do you not hear celaitial nalody 
in tha rolliDg unmbare of the awaat 
Swmmp Robin r Hearaa baa bleat na 



442 



HUTCHINOS' CALIFORNIA HAOAZINE. 



with the Bweet hermit of the grore, ajid 
the song and the flower are wreathed 
nronnd our heuta in a melodious garland. 
No. 3, the Rice Root of the miner;, wild 
Quiuee Hen Flower, Checkered Lil;, te. 
FrUiiiaria mutica. Adark hrownor pur- 
pliehchokerod, Doddiagliliaoeoaa flower j 
plant abnut two feet in height, with four 
to eight, or eTen as high as twenty, 
flowers. The glandular and boautifullj- 
crenulated margins are not noticed in 
the desorBptiona. A very commoD bul- 
bous plant of California. The single 



radicle fleshj leaf, aa large ai the palm oi 
one's hand, ii absent when flowering. 

No. 4, (Enolhera arevaia, (Kellogg.) 
Sickle-Leaf Primrose. 

No, 5, Anemopns Cali/omica, A bean- 
tiful scarlet Sower, found in wet places. 

No. 6, Downing^s Beauty — Dotmingia 
puUhtUa. In honor of the late A. J. 
Downing, Esq., well known to hortioul- 
tarat and rural fame. 

No. 7, Specvlaria, a species of Venus' 
Looking-glass. 



WILD FLOWERS OF CALIFORNIA. 



443 



OREGON SORREL.* 
TliB foregoing flgare it th« Sour Clo- 
T«r of the niioen, from the juice of 
which ihej make en eitemporaneons lem- 
ODkde-Iike bererage, said to be very cool- 
ing And refrething to the thintj palate 
in the hot aeMoa, It is believed to poo- 
Mw menj other uieful properties, e. g. 
M » paltifttiie JD the mioer'a aeurrej — 
in ferers, diarrbceu, dropaiea; aad i« 
Miti-bilioa* in general. 

Theeiprvuedjuioeof thia plant irben 
lafl ataoding for some time, depoaita a 
whitiah ledimeot, (an oxalate?) which 
wb«a applied to ehronic, indolent, or pu- 
trid aleen, will epeedil? heal them — but 
tfc« praotiee we think ii rather more cruel 
than tb* red-hot-iron remedj. It is 
donbtlen a " rouaer " upon thedlaturbing 
(utbod of our .£MDlapiaiia. 

Tb« plant ia funnd in thia vieiui^ 
growing in ehady Red-wooda.f 



Were it a foreign plant, it would be 
eateemed worthj of onllivaUon. The 
flowers are large and bright red ; eoroe 
are alaopsle purpliah. In all our aped- 
mens, the flowei^atem ia longer than the 
learea. For the lack of space, we have 
an to figure an* as short as anj we 
can obtun — will onr friends please in* 
uB if the flower-atem ia "always 
manifestly tiorter than the leaveaf" A 
brownish pubeecenoe coTere it. 

The separate figure is designed to illoe- 
trate the internal structure of an osalis. 
It will be seen that there are fire piatila; 
the largest threads in the oenter, uid ten 
stamens; fire long and fire short, altei^ 
nating. "P"repTeBenta thepistils — "S" 
the stamens. The leaves expand dnring 
the day and droop at nightfall. This ia 
probably owing to the effect of the light 
of the sun, as well aa humidity. 



444 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



No* 2, iq the preoediDg cross group, 
k an oatline of tih^ Buckham4e(m^ Gil- 
ia, or as i^ is mostl j kpiown in the Spiith- 
etn and Sduth^estem Atlantio States, 
The Standing C!yplre98 Flou>er,* 

We seldom see ^ny plant of our gar^ 
dens of such. exquisite beauty as thb 
splendid native /ipeoies. We ha^e seen 
and admired it in many of the Southern 
States, especially in Texas. In Califor- 
nia it flourishes at a higher altitude. 

Wherever it is found, it never fails to 
extort the most enthusiastio estpressions 
of delight. The downy stem is erect 
and tall, from 3 to § feet in height ; the 
leaves are pinnatitdly parted and dense- 
ly clustered ; the flowers are racemosely 
pannicled into a conic top often a foot or 
inore in length. The flowers as seen in 
the outline are long, tubular, with a five 
parted border, of a brilliant scarlet color, 
bright straw yellow within or delicate- 
ly shading into white ; they are beauti- 
fully dotted with red, or spotted with 
white and red, mixed. 

It flowers from July to September. 
This is a biennial species ; most of them 
are hardy annuals, of easy culture. The 
seeds should be sown in open sunny bor- 
ders, as soon as vegetation starts in the 
winter of oiir climate. Many of them 
crowded together are exceedingly showy. 
Heaven Uess the hand that tills them I 

No. 1, of the same group is the Three 
Colored Flowered OiXia,^ This plant is 
very abundant in California, flow;ering 
from June to September ; about one foot 
in height ; stem erect and smooth, flow- 
ers wand-like, arch -clustered in par- 
cels of three to six. The outline exhib- 

t 

its the flowers of the natural sise. No. 3 
shows the opened, somewhat bell-funnel 
formcfd flower, with its five-parted bor- 
der ;: the five stamens are inserted into 
the Ihroat near the tube. No. 4, the seed 
vessel and pi$til, with its three-parted 

t GUta tricolor,. 



stigma. The flowers are pale purple, or 
white with a blush of blue ; the center 
and tube yellow, and separated by a deep 
purple circle. " Nothing can be prettier 
than this, when thickly covering a bed a 
few feet in length and breadth." There 
are also many other native species in 
California ; but these represent the two 
extreme sections of this family so well 
one may pretty readily distinguish the 
remainder. 

ORIENTAL EPISODES AND INCI- 
DENTS. 

BY KAUTXOUS. 
[€k>nttnaed from page 40S-] 

Lit us return to our cuddy sapper 

table. 

Mercy on us, there is Mrs. Cutts hav- 
ing another bottle of beer; that's the 
ninth she has had to-day — seven is her 
regular allowance, and to-day she is ex- 
ceeding it. She says it makes her limbe 
supple ; if it does, it is a blessing, for she 
has much need of it Her husband, 
Doctor Cutts, gets drunk twice a week, 
or so, to the great annoyance of every- 
body ; and, under the influence of niani»- 
potu, fancies himself the Pope of Rome ; 
makes his wife alternately kneel and 
kiss his toe, and rise to bathe his head 
with vinegar, and this for two or three 
hours upon the stretch. Unfortunate 
couple I — he died shortly after our arri- 
val, of delirium tremens, and she follow- 
ed him in six months. Some wag, with 
more fun than good taste, wrote on her 
tombstone, with a pencil, — 

"Of drinking ale, dl«d Mn. CattK- 

Pvrbapt joa*n think it queer $ 
She lired to drink tome forty butts 

Of Hodgion*! bitter beer.'* 

That stout, red faced man, helping her 
to the ninth bottle, is M%jor Qolding, for- 
merly of the Punglepoore Fencibles ; he 
is not in the army now. . He has made a 
fortune by insezlng the lives of healthy, 



ORIENTAL EPISODES AND INCIDENTS. 



44S 



niddj faeed, fur haired cadets. Of ser- 
enteen that ha insured, nine died in two 
jeara, and he pocketed the policies. 

The Mijor sajs the game is up, for in- 
surance companies require a direct inter- 
est on a life now, before they will grant 
a policy. Moreoyer, arailing themseWes 
of his experience, one of the large c<Mn- 
panies hare made him their Indian agent, 
at a liheral salary ; that's how he is here 
now. He will take premiums from thin, 
darky or sallow men, or CTon oonsump- 
tiTes, in India; but you must pay high 
to insure such men as he speculated on 
in olden time. 

One more sketch, and I come to the 
one with which the happiest epoch of 
my liUft is associated. The tea things 
bars been removed, but wine is on the 
table. Observe that tall, handsome man, 
with that fragile, but Tery lovely girl by 
his nde. He is proposing the health of 
Captain Leechline and his officers, in a 
neat and appropriate speech. There is 
no awkward hesitation; no humming 
and hawing, so common on such occa- 
sions ; he speaks fluently, easily, and all 
be says is in good taste, and to the point 
That is Mr. Nathan King, and the lady 
beside him is his sister. They are from 
New Tork; they came together, bat 
tbey wont go back together. Mr. Nathan 
King went to England with his mother, 
sister, and younger brother — they to make 
a European tour, and he to proceed to 
Calcutta on commercial business con- 
nected with his New Tork firm. He pro- 
posed going out in an English vessel, 
because of the superior comforts of a 
first class passenger ship, and the pleas- 
ure of educated society on board. But 
how comes his sister there 7 Well, thus 
it happened: they were the guests of 
Mr. Hadley, a large merobaat in London. 
His son. Captain Hadley, of the Bengal 
srtillery, was at home on leave. Of 
oourse Miss Lissie King wished to know 
all about CalosUa, where her brother was 



going. Now Capt. Hadley was a polite 
man—- a very polite man — and he afford- 
ed her every information in his power, 
until the subject got threadbare. Then 
he found her voice so sweet, that he must 
needs enquire a great deal about New 
York ; not that he cared so much about 
that, as the manner it was told, and so it 
came about that he persuaded her that 
Calcutta, ynih Atia, was better than New 
York, without him ; besides, she would 
be able to see to her brother, who was 
delicate, whilst he was there. This last 

setUed the matter, and so and so 

they got married ; and she is to have her 
European tour when Hadley next gets 
leave. That is he, hutsaing so vocifer- 
ously in answer to his brother-in-law's 
toast Look at the merry sparkle of his 
clear blue eyes, the frank expression of 
his face, and how tender his glance, when 
he turns towards her. I had but little 
fear for their fhture, and so it has prov- 
ed. I dined with them since he retired, 
at their pretty place in Devonshire, twelve 
years ago, and found that indeed ** thejf 
twain were one/' 

The next morning all was anxiety to 
have a fair view of Madras, and soon af- 
ter daylight the poop was thronged by 
passengers, wholly occupied with the 
novel scene around them. Masoolah 
boatmen, catamaran men, in a state of 
almost perfect nudity, raising blushes on 
fair cheeks, albeit soon to become inured 
to the spectacle ; native servants, with 
their tasteful, snowy garments, contrast- 
ing with their gay colored, close fitting 
jackets and fancy turbans, flitted to and 
fro, soliciting employment from the pas- 
sengers, and« with humble but graceful 
salaams, producing their testimonials of 
character. Who can acooont for that 
wonderful grace of motion, oharacteri*- 
tie of the Inhabitants of the immense 
Indian peninsula. Is it innate f is it the 
result of early tr^ningt or, is it that 
the extreme exoluslveness of the many 



446 



HUTCniKOS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



castes renders each desirous to study and 
acquire an appearance that shall be cred- 
itable to his people 7 We hold that it 
arises from the natural delicacy of their 
physical organisation, added to pride of 
caste, and aided by the total absence of 
restraint from any of the torturous ap- 
pliances of civilised costumes. That the 
extreme poetry of motion, observable in 
the females, is mainly attributable to 
their habit of carrying light vessels of 
water on the head is indisputable, and 
has been proved by the dignity of car- 
riage that some European ladies have ac- 
quired, in late years, by adopting such 
exercises as a main element of calisthen- 
ics. 

A party of us Were, by nine o'clock, 
approaching in one of the native boats 
the outer line of the fearful and continu- 
ous surf, which rages at Madras. Be it 
known that the whole force of the sea of 
the Bay of Bengal breaks on this line of 
coast, without protection of any kind. 
The result of the undertow is the forma- 
tion of a sand bank, about one hundred 
and fifty yards from the beach ; and 
which would probably become, in time, 
higher, but that the strong currents run- 
ning along the coast and inclining some- 
what from it, carries off the higher parti- 
cles of sand which are in agitation from 
the action of the surf. Inside of this 
bank the water is tolerably deep, till the 
edge of the steep beach is reached. Now 
when the swell which comes in is light, 
the impediment of this outer bank causes 
but a slight break on the crest of the in- 
coming wave, and the risk is consequent- 
ly small. When, however, the rise of 
the wave, (from the blowing of the north- 
east monsoon, from October to March), 
is enlarged, in precisely the same pro- 
portion is the danger increased. Then 
the sea, meeting the obstruotioo, breaks 
with terrible force, cresting with a height 
of many feet, and then dispersing itself 
in the boiling foam in tho deeper water 



inside. When this point is reached, the 
danger may be said to be past ; although 
the violence of the blow the boat receiyes, 
on striking the beach, is often the cause 
of much inconvenience and considerable 
amusement — the more so as if, before an- 
other surf strikes her, the boat is not 
hauled sufficiently high up, the result is 
a cloud of spray, enough to half drown 
the unlucky wights who are seated in her. 

Terrible as the aspect of this surf is, 
yet were it not for the formation of the 
bank, landing would be impossible ; but 
for tlie dispersing of the heavy wave, be- 
fore it approaches the beach, by the 
means thus provided by nature, the vol- 
ume of it would be sufficient, when it 
struck the shore, to break at one blow 
the very strongest construction of human 
ingenuity. 

As we came close to the outer break, 
the ten boatmen laid on their oars, watch- 
ing the waves as they rolled in, and just 
rowing a little or backing a little, so as 
to keep stationary. Seeing a smaller 
wave approaching, the steersman sud- 
denly urged them ahead, and, with fran- 
tic yells, every muscle was strained to 
keep the boat on the shoulder of the wave, 
as it rolled in. By their wonderful judg- 
ment the bow of the boat, carried by the 
curling swell, with fearful velocity, was 
but three or four feet behind the crest 
when it broke. A few more strokes, and 
we were beyond the reach of the next 
following wave when it should break. 
Had we been but a few feet further on, 
and the wave broken under the boat, 
then the stern being lifted up by the last 
part of it, would have caused the bow to 
strike on the bunk and upset her end- 
ways, landing the passengers in the hiss- 
ing foam inside. On the other hand, 
bad the boat been too far behind the 
break of the swell, before she oould have 
got beyond the reach of the next wave, 
it would overtake her, break over her, 
and fill if not capsise her. 



ORIENTAL EPISODES AND INCIDENTS. 



447 



A f«w saoonds more, and, with a blow 
that threw most of us into the bottom of 
th^fioai, we struck the beach, were haul- 
ed up a few feet, and on the shoulders of 
all bat nude boatmen, carried from the 
boat and plaoed on dry land. 

Miss Palmer, myself, and Miss Crown, 
whom I bad persuaded to aoeompany us, 
together with a married lady, Mrs. South- 
wick, who played propriety, were soon 
seated in a carriage en nmU to the house 
of Capt. Qedde< four miles from town. 
Capt. Geddes was a cousin of mine, an 
artilery oiEcer, holding a staff appoint- 
ment at the presidency. 

The extreme flatness of the country, 
with the exception indeed of St. Thomas 
Mounts and Armegon Hill, in the dis- 
taoe0, detracts much from its beauty; 
still the pretty houses, embosomed in a 
perfect garland of flowers and tropical 
trees, the classic simplicity of the female 
costume, and the waving of the garments 
of the males, formed a picture at once 
enlivening and novel. As we passed 
through a portion of the outskirts, where 
the natires most do congregate, and where 
a small basaar is situated, the noise, the 
jabbering in different dialects, made a 
perfect Babel of sounds. The dust and 
hubbub, despite the attractive strange- 
sees of the scene, was almost unbearable, 
and glad we were when we emerged from 
the crowded district. 

Leaving the ladies, who wore most cor- 
dially welcome, to pass the day in the 
manner usual in India — ^i. e., doing noth- 
ing — ^I returned to the town to make the 
few visits allowed by our limited stay. 

Land of unbounded hospitality ; it is 
indeed difficult to refuse the many kind- 
neaees so freely pressed upon you on ev- 
ery side. Capt. Geddes, who had been 
off to the ship to see me, and had missed 
me, I saw at his office ; and, being much 
engaged, he entrusted me to the care of 
a friend till dinner time. Mr. Brooke, 
the name of the gentleman, proved a per> 



feet paragon of a cicerone, and to some 
of the notabilities to whom he introduced 
me we will presently refer, certain that 
some amusement may be gleaned from 
their hutories. 

[7b (• coiUiMud.} 

CURIOSITIES OF SCIENCE. 

PREDICTION or THK WXATnXR. 

M. Arago is decidedly of opinion that 
the influencee of the moon and of comets 
on the changes of the weather are almost 
insensible ; and, therefore, that the pre- 
dicUon of the weather can never be a 
branch of aotronomy, properly so called. 
And yet our satellite and comets have, 
at certain periods, been considered as 
preponderating stars in meteorology. 
Again, M. Arago believes that he is in 
a condition to deduce from his investiga- 
tions this important result: — Whatever 
may be the progreae of ecienees, never wiU 
obeervere, who are trueitoorthy, and earo' 
fuX of iheir rtpuiation, venture to foreieU 
the etaie of the weather. 

nXCAT or TH« TXXTH. 

Mr. Alexander Nasmyth considers that, 
in addition to the ordinary diseases of 
teeth, called decay, the effeminacy of so- 
cial life, the almost exclusive and unre- 
mitting exercise of the mental faculties, 
and a ooneequently superinduced morbid, 
nervous susceptibility, cause disease to 
nppear in the sockets of the teeth, which 
produces their expulsion, although the 
bodies of the teeth themselves may be 
perfectly sound. That peculiarity, of 
which both modem and ancient social 
life affords abundant examples, is fre- 
quently found to have existed in the 
sockets of the ancient Egyptians, but 
never to have been observed in races of 
men who have followod a natural coarse 
of life. 



448 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINB. 



MINING LAWS OF THE "[FLOWERY 
DISTRICT," NEVADA TERRITORY. 



{From the Territorial JSnUrprise.} 

Article I. The bounds of this dis- 
trict shall be, on the south and west by 
the Seven Mile Cafion ; on the north by 
the Iron Mountains ; and on the east by 
Carson River. All quartz claims located 
in this district shall be two hundred feet 
on the lead, including all its dips, angles 
and spurs. 

Art. 2. All discoverers of new quartz 
Teins shall be entitled to an additional 
claim of two hundred feet. 

Art. 3. All claims shall be worked 
within thirty days after location, to the 
amount of two days to each claim per 
month, and the owner can work to the 
amount of fifty dollars as soon after the 
location as he may choose, which amount 
of work being done, shall exempt his 
claim from work for six months thereafter. 

Art. 4. All rights of the claimants 
of a ledge shall always be the whole 
width of the said ledge, extending a 
sufficient distance on each side of the 
ledge, the entire distance of his claim to 
enable him to work to the best advantage, 
and if the corner stakes are not at first 
placed on the ledge by the location, on 
account of the ledge not being distinctly 
marked they may be changed so as to 
correspond to the course of the vein when 
that shall become known. 

Art. 5. All claims shall be properly 
recorded within five days from the time 
of location. 

Art. 6. All surface or placer claims 
shall be one hundred feet square, and be 
designated by stakes and notices at each 
corner. 

Art. 7. All ravine and gulch claims 
shall be one hundred feet square, and be 
designated by stakes and notices at each 
corner. 

Art. 8. All surface and ravine claims 
shall be worked within ten days after 



sufficient water can be had to work sud 
claims. 

Art. 0. All claims not worked acsord- 
ing to the laws of this district, shall be 
forfeited, and subjected to relocation. 

Art. 10. There shall be a Recorder 
elected who shall be entitled to the som 
of one dollar for each claim recorded. It 
shall be the duty of the Recorder to go 
on the ground, and see that stakes are 
set in their proper places, before record- 
ing the claims. ^ 

Art. II. Every company shall, with- 
in ten days of the time of location of its 
claims, survey their ground and place 
good substantial marks at each end of 
the same, and define by notice the direc- 
tion which they claim. Said lines shall 
not debar the owners of claims from the 

benefit of all dips, angles and epors; 
provided, that such dips, angles and 
spurs be clearly shown ; and aU ground 
within the bounds of said marks shall be 
the lawful property of the first locator. 

Art. 12. All persons holding claims 
in this district, shall, within ten days of 
the passaze of these laws, survey their 
claims and set their stakes and marks. 

Art. 13. The Recorder shall keep a 
suitable book or books in which the laws 
of this district shall be plainly written, 
and all records of claims, deeds, transfers 
and surveys shall be registered distinctly, 
and said records shall at all times be 
operi to the inspection of the public, and 
said Recorder is required to post in two 
conspicuous places a copy of the laws of 
this district. 

Art. 14. It shall be the dutjf of the 
Recorder to dul^ record the original no- 
tices in letters instead of figures, where 
figures occur, and shall give to each lo- 
cator of claim or claims a certified copy 
of the same. 

Art. 15. These laws shall be applica- 
ble to companies as far as practicable, 
and in all company claims, work in ac- 
cordance with these laws on any portion 
of their ground, shall be sufficient to se- 
cure the whole. 

Art. 16. All laws and parts of laws 
heretofore made in conflict with the spir- 
it and meaning of these laws, are hereby 
repealed. 

Passed March 2d, 1860. 



CASTLES IN THE AIR. 



449 



CASTLES IN THE AIR. 



BT W. R« TRISBIl, A. B. 



** Thli iM death la life ; to be rank beneath the watera 

of the Adoal, 
WithoBt one fef b|j-ctrvggUng eenge of an airier epl*- 

Itoal realm.*' 

PaOTnilAL PHILOIOmT. 

Etbbt hope, every aspiratioD after the 
anattainable,; every passion ungratified, 
has its eastle in the air. We all build 
them. Id childhood, they are generally 
like the cottage in ''Hop-o'er-my-Thuhib;*' 
walls, rafters, and furniture of sugar and 
cake ; windows of crystal candy ; their 
occupants having nothing to do but 
amuse themselves the live-long day. 
Their construction then is comparatively 
•imple, and if never absolutely realised, 
a fortnight of holidays, with an occa- 
sional ounce or so of building materials 
console the architect. Not so in riper 
years — when longings expand into wider 
6eMs of possessions, if it be but seldom 
we turn aside from the active present, so 
much the dearer are our etchings of the 
future. 

There is a class of men styled " day 
dreamerSi" and such the world justly 
coodemns. Extremes are reprehensible ; 
yet are we all day dreamers to some ex- 
Cent, and no more to be censured on that 
account, than for enjoying a due amount 
of recreation. 

Castle-building has its good and bad 
effects, according to the character and 
foumiation of the structure. It is valu- 
able as an inde^ and moulder of the dis- 
prmttion, an incentive to labor, and a con- 
solation for disappointment. We have 
defined these serial realms to be soul- 
longings. As good fountains pour Ibrth 
sweet waters, so the aspirations of a noble 
•(•ul are the highest expressions of its 
refined nature. A mere common-place, 
practical man, however much such a dis- 
potttion may avail for the acquisition of 
worldly esteem or property, Is construct- 
ed on too small a scale ; what " filthy 



lucre " will buy, comprises all his ideas 
of the true, beautiful or good. 

The materials of the individual's " cas- 
tle,'' then, are drawn from his nature. 
We can judge of each from the other, and 
shall find the characteristics of both end- 
lessly varied. The world is full of men, 
and each with his peculiarity ; moreover, 
should we subdivide characters into class- 
es, the number would be well nigh in- 
finite ; from these, then, let us pick up 
specimens as they occur to us at random. 
Some we shall drop suddenly with a 
shiver, or glance at only partially, hiding 
as much of the filth as is practicable : 
upon others, the mind will dwell lovingly 
and lingeringly ; we would fain hold them 
in a perpetual embrace, and, as it is, 
only let them go when we have prayed 
long and hoped that we have appropria- 
ted some of their excellencies. 

We have already referred to childhood's 
golden edifice, rosy with mirth, and 
boundless in its supply of unsatiating 
sweets. Who does not recognize it (if 
he deign not now to look so far back, one 
day this shall be his sole delight), as his 
own fairy ideal? One who cannot, is to 
be pitied; he is either that hard-faced, 
purse with no outlet individual, who 
prides himself on his contempt for poetry 
and sentiment, or worse yet — a thorough, 
self-acknowledged rascal ; — when a boy, 
one could warrant he was famous for 
grand bargains, and petty thefts too oo- 
casionally ; he had the faculty of getting 
himself bravely out of scrapes at the ex- 
pense of a school-mate, and was never so 
absurdly honest as to own up boldly, " I 
did it I " and take the deserved flogging. 
Not he 1 He was too tharp for that, and 
much preferred to see the innocent suffer. 
We should find his " castles " preceding 
him all along, filled with self, and bright 
dollars, and but the reflection of his life- 
motive. That they are not ful ly realized, 
all the better for him ; but, alas ! they are 
enough so to make the stream of his ex- 



450 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



istence turbid, and its outflow — we shud- 
der to think whither. Policy has been 
his motto, inscribed on his air-castles, 
and still deeper in his heart. Who con- 
tributed so munificently to orphan asy- 
lums and relief funds, yet turned the 
fatherless and the widow from his doors ? 
True, he belonged to the church on earth, 
but not of such, we fear, is the kingdom of 
Heaven. 

Then, again, there is the man of ultra 
piety. His title, though not a just one, 
is sufficient to designate him. It is in- 
tended neither to class him with the for- 
mer, nor yet present him as the conyerse. 
We chance upon him as upon some mis- 
shapen stone, valuable for little else than 
as a specimen. While innocent of evil 
intentions, he is an injury to society, by 
exhibiting religion in a false aspect. In 
childhood his heart structures were ruth- 
lessly torn down; substitutions were 
made ; select chapters from the Old Tes- 
tament, in place of fairy tales — ^for such 
pictures as "Goody Two Shoes," the 
bears that eat up naughty children. In 
the case before us, (rare exception 1), 
riper years have not brought about a re- 
action. If his eyes had been opened, 
they would have looked too far in an op- 
posite direction ; and, for the bigot, we 
should have had the atheist — for the 
gloomy christian, (!) the reckless liber- 
tine. As he is, so are his " castles." 
Sometimes, perhaps, what he crushes as 
wicked inspirations, build for him afar 
off— so far that his hope cannot attain 
unto it — a mansion where joyous laugh- 
ter, unrestrained, is the music and pleas- 
ures to him denied the fire upon the 
hearthstone. Seldom does he anticipate 
happiness in this life. " Across the riv- 
er " is his home, " planned by Infinite 
Benevolence" — a vost church, on the 
mundane order, where songs of gloom 
re-echo through one perpetual, dreary 
Sabbath. Not a ray of sunshine, not a 
note of joy, not a breath of freedom? 



'Tis false 1 Better deny God's existence, 
than his holiest attribute. 

Look at the lazy man's ** castle " — fill- 
ed with servants, every thing done at hiii 
behest. In it, he pictures himself rich, 
without labor; learned, without study; 
righteous, without the pangs of self-de- 
nial. He live thus ? If he build on 
strong resolution, with perseverance and 
industry, he may find the wealth, be the 
sage and the saint too. But this is not 
he. With such foundations, the castle 
belongs to some one else. And to whom, 
but the man of energy and will? He 
builds but for to-day ; fills with giant 
purpose, and spends less time in prayer 
than work. To-morrow, his ideal exists 
as a reality. His home is larger than 
had been his hopes. 

How many " castles in the air" the 
lover builds — and how grand I Each in 
peerless, in his eyes, as a casket from the 
rich jewel it contains. Of all men he 
buildeth most recklessly ; thinking over- 
much of his queen, he chooses but a cot- 
tage for her palace — tears down this mere- 
ly for the pleasure of reerecting that ; 
and, after all, his structure is so shab- 
bily put together that, were it more 
earthly, we should fear for the health of 
its fair occupant. Within is provided 
naught but love — naught else for food or 
drink. Over his cottage clouds are nev- 
er to hang — the moon never to wane. 

But enough. Select any individual, 
study his habits and motives, and you 
can readily picture his ideal. 

This is eminently a practical and sys- 
tematic age. No science is regarded 
worthy the name, which cannot be re- 
duced to first principles ; no operation, 
physical or metaphysical, worth perform- 
ing, reasons and rules for which can not 
be stated. To suit the tinges, then, we 
conclude with some general hints, in re- 
gard to serial architecture, which maj 
serve for a moral. 

First, never build on too grand a scale 



THE WANDERER'S DREAM. 



451 



laterials are abundant; every wish 
adds a wing to the structare— every hope 
a dome or a turret ; all the more reason 
for regarding the rule. 'Tis sad, as you 
are looking with straining eyes, towards 
your fairy palace, to find the clouds, 
where the sunlight was shining, fading 
away, and with them your picture. Sad- 
der still, if your building has been too 
lofty, to see it crumbling into ruins. Al- 
ways count the cost, and then build upon 
probabilities. 

Secondly, build upon faith. This rule 
is a check upon running to extremes, 
and may be regarded as a corollary of 
the preceding. It is not the part of wia- 
dom, in planning for the future, to for> 
get the substantial duties of the present 
Finally — which should hare been first 
— ^build conscientiously. As a man think- 
eth, BO is he. We are as responsible to 
moral law for our hopes as our acts. If 
wrong be one of the materials of our 
" castle,'' even if the hoped for be real- 
isedy we shall find true enjoyment ab- 
•enL The world is full of disappoint- 
ment. What a blessing that we can 
picture for ourselves a brighter fatare 1 
With conscience for the eomer-stone of 
each *' castle in the air," whatever fate 
assails, we can still be confident of '* a 
house not made with bands, eternal in 
the heavens." 



THE WANDERER'S DREAIL 



ST e. T. traoAT. 



I sU and dream in my cabin door — 

I tUnd in Bj native home once more ; 

I hear the music of the beet, 

The song of the birdi in the <rnhMrd trees, 

The brecxj wbispering of the limei, 

The mosic of the Sabbath chimes, 

The song of the hrojk by the ootUg c door— 

I hear them aU, in my dream, eaoe more. 



And I hear sweet voices ia my 

sweet seag is my ear they 



The shouts of children in their glee, 
Ringing aload in the meadows tttt ; 
The sound of the scythe, sod the waken- 
ing horn, 
Galling them to the fields at morn ; 
The plow-boy, whlstlinff, wildly gay, 
•' Over the hills and far away " ; 
Or mocking at the black-bird's song. 
Briskly caroling all day long; [stream — 
The notes of the thrush, by the meadow 
I hear them all again in my dream. 

I dream once more ; — ^'tis the hour of mirth, 
And groups are gathering Vonnd the hearth; 
And many a song, and legend old, 
And tales of wondrous length are told. 
My mother sits and sings so clear, 
A song for my little brother's ear ; 
I know that song, and with spirits light, 
Have sung it oft in the fields at night 
Uj father listens ; — no minstrel's art 
Like that could stir bis echoing heart : 
** *Ti9 the same that in youth came warb- 
ling to me, 
" Sitting beneath the linden tree. 
" We were lovers then — we are lovers now — 
** Time changes naught save the locks oe 
the brow." 

My grandsire talks, In his easy chair, 
Of the seven years' war, and the hi 

there. 
** Aye, those were giants, boys, — brave 
** Who dared the lion la bfs dee. 
'^Ood^Uke above them aU was one, 
'* It was oar glorions WAsaisoros t " 
The graaddasM sits and smiles to hear 
Thai tale, eft told, yet stUI so dear, 
And oft a tear on her cheek appears. 
As she wanders back through the mistf 
Aad tbiaks of one, her idol boy, [yi 
Who left her oae mora with a soldier's jey; 
"Ood bless you, mother !' the last he sei4— 
That eight that Uir young head was laid* 
With eyes all death -glared, ameeg the sleie, 
Staring up to the suri,oii Mouoouth's pUie. 



Thee eoaaes e sound like a battle's 
I fieri, — end my sleep eed my dr es 



452 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



DRESS AS A FINE ART. 



A BECENT paper in the "Atlantic Month- 
ly," entitled "Daily Beauty," advanced 
some ideas, not altogether new, perhaps, 
on the subject of dress and personal ap- 
pearance, which we would like to eee 
generally circulated and adopted. Some 
may sneer at a deliberate attempt to 
make dress the subject of a magazine ar- 
ticle, but we ought to premise that it is 
not our intention to say anything to en- 
courage extravagance in dress, but rath- 
er to deprecate and crush, if possible, 
that efflorescence of gay attire which glo- 
rifies the drawing-room and illuminates 
the sidewalk. 

i have faith in dress, as I have in what- 
ever will make God's handiwork more 
personable, more attractive, more beauti- 
ful ; and he, or she, who dresses meanly 
when they can afford to dress well, does 
violence to the purest instincts of our na- 
ture, and insults that innate sense of pro- 
priety which all have. 

But how to dress well, how to so array 
ourself in ordinary garniture, which shall 
be in keeping with one's personal appear- 
ance, habits, character, and vocation, and 
be also attractive ; how to group colors 
and forms in real harmony, to dress rich- 
ly and yet " o'erstep not the modesty of 
nature" ; these are things, the knowledge 
of which is not intuition to all, nor is 
their practice general, in our own coun- 
try at least. 

One of the principles of true taste, 
most frequently violated, is that of har- 
mony of colors. The great Architect of 
the Universe has laid down certain unal- 
terable laws, which regulate the juxta- 
position of colors, just as those of music 
regulate the chords which produce har- 
monious or inharmonious sounds; and 
these laws can not be violated without 
inflicting pain upon the esthetic sense of 
the observer. 

In the glory of the sunset sky^ jou eee 



no brilliant azure jarring against the 
glowing purple, orange and gold, of the 
vapory shapes luminous on the horizon. 
Search the whole floral kingdom through, 
and you will find no flowers in which 
decided blue and yellow are contrast- 
ed. Yet, how frequently do we see these 
colors worn, in odious discord, by both 
men and women. I remember once see- 
ing a woman, richly and expensively 
dressed, with a blue gown, green shawl, 
yellow bonnet, and sky blue gloves. The 
force of contrast could no farther go— no 
law of harmony was left unoutraged — 
yet, she doubtless considered herself 
tastefully and elegantly dressed. 
Now, it should be known that there are 
certain colors which should never be 
grouped with others; as, for instance, 
black and pale yellow are incongruous ; 
blue with yellow or green are detestable. 
Blue, with black, white, or red, is good ; 
and, as a general thing, black and white 
harmonize with all positive colors. Red, 
with buff, yellow, or bluish colors, is bad, 
but with a strong blue or green, is good ; 
but a bright pink, with any yellow or 
yellowish color, is false and painful. The 
same principle holds good as applied 
to all the shadings of positive colors. 
Women of a sallow complexion should 
never wear light cr pale pinks, as it ob- 
scures the complexion; nor should they 
wear blue, which imparts an unpleasant 
green tint; but they should wear strong 
reds, deep, rich browns, or neutral shades. 
Blue, in fact, is fatal to all complexions 
but the fair blondes. Nature has stamp- 
ed this rule with her approval, by giving 
to such the bright blue eyes. Women of 
a florid complexion, should never wear 
white, especially white head-gear, as the 
contrast is too broad ; but they should 
let their complexion be shaded off into 
quiet tints, neutral or secondary. Pale 
people, of a pure complexion, should 
wear bright colors, especially near the 
face, making a warm reflection there. 



THE CARPENTER AND THE MAGIC STATUE. 



453 



which ifl hotter than rouge. Such are 
▼erf apt lo affeoi white muslia and blue 
ribboaa, whieh give them ati iciele ap- 
pearance — agreeable, if a hot day, but 
unnatural and false. 

But» after all, the great sin of the fash- 
ionable world, is that of wearing too 
many poeitire hues, especially in the 
street. When will our women learn that 
glaring colors, flaunting plumes, stream- 
ing ribbone, and the like, seen in the 
street, on the railroad, or the steamer, 
are anmistakeable signs of inbred vul- 
garitj, however sanctioned by fkshion or 
^7 poaitionf A woman who appears on 
the street in a brilliant dress, loaded 
with furbelows, or meteor-like bonnet, a 
flower-bed shawl, doth greatly fool her- 
self if she thinks that she is anything 
else than a walking lay-figure to adver- 
tise her dry-goods dealer, withal Let 
the women, to be dressed beautifully, 
chooee quiet, rich shades ; use sparingly 
all positive colors; eschew a redundance 
of " trimming," and they will achieve a 
success before unknown. They may not 
attract the attention which would be di- 
rected to a red poppy in a bed of violets, 
but people would say, " how becomingly 
Mrs. Bashlen wai dressed," and not 
*' what a splendid dress she had on, it 
must have cost ten dollars a yard." Of 
low necks, bare arms^ huge hoops, the 
fruitful themes of so many writers, I 
will say nothing, being convinced that 
the woman who has not grace enough to 
keep her from adopting the uniform of 
the eourtesan, has not enough to heed 
any reproof, however severe. 

One word about jewelry, and I have 
done with the women. It is ordained 
that everything on this fair earth shall 
have a useful end and aim. Even the 
humble flower, by the wayside, not only 
cheers the eye, but feeds the roving bee, 
purifies the air, and fills its little part 
in the great scheme of nature. So, also, 
no oraamentataon should be merely for 



show ; flowers and bugles, spangles and 
the multitudb of silken or grassy aooes> 
sories, with which some women bedizen 
themselves, are of no earthly use, except 
to encourage extravagance and the dry 
goods trade. A bracelet upon a bare 
arm is a humbug, a dislocation, having 
no more propriety of place than the '* bar- 
baric pearl and gold" which some sav- 
ages wear in their noses. Qold and pre- 
cious stones pensile from cruelly pierced 
ear-lobes, are either indicative of weak 
eyes or weaker heads ; they are sad relics 
of a barbarous age. A pin should fasten 
something; a bracelet should keep, or 
seem to keep, something in its place ; a 
chain should carry something valuable, 
or useful, which otherwise were in dan- 
ger of being lost But a jeweled oore- 
net on a Yankee woman's head, a hnge 
pin flaming on her bosom, or chains and 
bracelets loading arms and neck, all give 
to the wearer the same charm which be- 
longs to a jeweler's show-case — valuable 
for their market price only. 

In the coming millenium of poets and 
painters there shall be no more " dress," 
but all shall be habited in what is seem- 
ly beautiful, and the '* eternal fitness of 
things " shall be the only rule of practice. 
In my next letter I shall have a few words 
to say to the sterner portion of my read- 
ers. Easelmakit. 

THE CARPENTER AND THE MAOIC 

STATUE. 



Whin Titus was emperor of Rome, he 
promulgated a decree, that the birth-day 
of his son should be kept sacred, and 
that no one should presume to do any 
labor on that day under the pensity of 
death. The emperor soon found that it 
was far easier to decree than to obtain 
the concurrence of his subjects in the 
decree. The law was continually evaded, 
and the judges and oflicers were unable 
to discover the offenders. 

Then said Titus, " Call hither Tirgil, 
the magician." 

Virgil came at the emperor's command, 
and stood in his presence. 



454 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



" Mighty magician/' said Titos, " I 
have promulgated a law that no one 
should presume to labor on the birth-day 
of my son under a penalty of death." 

" Thou hast, my tord." 

" Know now, that this law is constant- 
ly evaded, and that neither my judges 
nor ray officers can discover the offend- 
ers." 

" What my lord says is true." 

"Virgil, we desire vou to frame an 
image ; some curious piece of art, which 
may reveal to us every transgressor of 
the law." 

" It shall be as my lord desires," said 
the magician. 

Not long after this, Yirgil constructed 
a maeic statue, and caused it to be 
erected in the centre of the city. By 
virtue of its secret powers, it acqainted 
the emperor with whatever was done 
amiss. Many and many were the per- 
sons convicted through the means of its 
informations, and no man was safe from 
its knowledge. 

In Rome there lived a poor but indus- 
trious carpenter, named Focus, who cared 
little for the new edict, and every day 
pursued his laborious occupation. 

" Misfortune take thee, thou tell-tale 
statue I " muttered he, as he lay in bed 
one night, and thought upon the numer- 
ous convictions procured by its means ; 
" to-morrow thou and I must bandy a 
few words." 

As soon as it was day-break. Focus 
arose, dressed himself, and went to the 

Elace where the statue stood ; placing 
imself immediately before the figure, 
he then addressed it : — 

" Statue I statue I many of our citisens 
die daily, by reason of your informations; 
now take this warning : if you accuse me, 
I will break your head." 

Having thus spoken. Focus returned 
home to his usual work, though it was 
the prohibited day. About mid-day the 
king sent to the statue to inquire wheth- 
er the law was being duly observed. 

" Statue ! " said tne officers, ** the em- 
peror demands whether the edict is being 
•triotly observed." 

" Friends," rejoined the magic voice ; 
"look up, see what is written o^ my 
forehead." 

They obeyed the commands of the 
•tatue, and saw these lines on his brow : 

" Times are altered. 
Men grow worse. [broken." 

He that speaks the truth has his head 



" Friend," said the statue again, ^' go 
tell the emperor what thou hast read."^ 

Now, when Titus heard what was writ- 
ten on the forehead of the statue, he was 
very wroth, and ordered his guards, and 
his officers, to wateh before the statue, 
and see that no man did it injury. He 
bade them also require of the statue the 
name of the malefactor, and bring him 
before him directly. 

"Declare, statue I" said the officer 
of the emperor's guards, *'^ who it is that 
threaten sVoii." 

" It is Focus, the carpenter," rejoined 
the figure; "he cares not for the edict, 
and never remits his labor ; moreover, 
he menaces me with a broken head if I 
disclose his crime." 

The guards soon discovered Focus at 
work as usual, and dragged him before 
the imperial presence. 

" Man," said the emperor, " what is 
this that I hear of thee? Not only dost 
thou break the law, but dost also menace 
the stAtue, should it declare thy crime." 

" It is even so, my lord ; I cannot af- 
ford to keep the edict ; a holiday to me 
is so much loss. Every day must I ob- 
tain eieht pennies, and without incessant 
labor rhave not the means of acquiring 
them. Holidays are well enough for the 
rich, but for the poor they are too of^en 
a curse." 

" Eight pennies. Sir Villain — why 
eight pennies?" 

" Every day throughout the ^ear I am 
bound to repay two pence, which I bor- 
rowed in my youth ; two other pence I 
lend ; two 1 lose, and two I spend." 

" Explain thi8,|' said Titus, intereated 
in the man's replies. 

" Two pence I repay that I borrowed 
in my youth ; when 1 was a boy, mv 
father expended daily upon me that sum: 
now he is poor and needs my assistance; 
therefore I return that which I formerly 
borrowed." 

" Thou doest well." 

" Two other pence I lend to my son, 
for his studies, even as my father did to- 
wards me, in the hope that hereaHer he 
will do likewise.'^ 

" Again thou doest well ; but bow dost 
thou lose two pence a di^ ? " 

" I give them to my wife for her main- 
tenance ; she is wilful, contradictious, and 
passionate ; these two, therefore, are lost 
to me on account of her disposition." 

" Qood again, Focus." 

" The two last penniea I spend upon 



THE FOUR SLAB STONES. 



45S 



mTMtf in meat, drink and clothing. 
With less than this I cannot exist, nor 
ean I obtain these ei^ht pennies without 
incessant and unremitting labor ; there- 
fore, O emperor, a holiday to me is no 
blessing, but rather a curse ; and thy 
edict, I, for one, cannot obey. Tou know 
now the truth ; judge dispassionately .'' 

"Friend, thou hast well spoken; go 
labor at thy trade.*' 

Kot long after this the emperor and 
his son both died, and there was no heir 
to the throne. Then the people remem- 
bered the wisdom of the poor carpenter, 
and tendered to him the empire. He 
gorerned as wisely as emperor as he had 
lived AS A carpenter ; and, at his death, 
bis picture, bearing on the head eight 
pennies, was deposited among the effigies 
of the departed emperors. 



LAST GIFTS OF THE DYING. 



A gift for theC) mother t — this Tolume dear, 
Cherished, snd hallowed by many a tear ; 
I go where I need its guidance no more — 
Faith becomes sight, on the heavenly shore. 

A gift for thee, father 1 Thy Emma's lace, 
By an artist's hand, thou didst love to trace, 
to the after years when thou scannest this 

brow, 
Think, father, thy child is an angel now I 

▲ gift for thee, brother I — this lock of hair, 
With amaranths, that bound it there ; 
When the brow that wore it is hidden from 

thee, 
Dear brother, this token may speak of me. 

A gifl for thee, sister ! — this Jeweled stone 
Tbon wilt wear for my sake, thy cherished 
This ring, a token of love, that lies [one I 
Too deep for words, and never dies ! 

One gift, aye, one, I to all impart ; — 
' Tie the deathless love of a trusting heart ! 
Lore, pnre, enduring, changeless, free, 
Socb as my SaTionr gave to me I 



THE FOUR SLAB STONES. 



BT DOINGS. 



I All a great admirer of Tradition. I 
love to read Legends, and I love to hear 
them narrated. Anything connected with 
the history of the natives of America is 
particularly interesUng, and there is 
much relaUng to the "poor Diggers,'' 
whioh, if sought out and brought to light, 
would astonish us with its natural beau- 
ties and delight us by its simple lesson ; 
causing us at the same time to feel more 
compassion for, and to appreciate better 
the natures of, this poor, lost, rapidly dy- 
ing out race. I know that there are many 
who feel and think as I do. Therefore, I 
take great pleasure in sending forth to 
the world the results of my own discovery, 
and, after the trouble and pains taken 
to obtain a correct and authenticated in- 
terpretation, I think that all will be 
pleased as they read, and give, as I do, 
the credit to '* Sam." 

One dull dreary day last fall — one of 
those days when the sun lies hid behind 
the clouds, and the air feels damp and 
close, when the light winds, as they 
murmur among the tree-tops, seem talk- 
ing to us, and the roaring of the distant 
river comes dead and heavy, and ming- 
ling with the ivies of the woods, seem to 
endorse all that is said — such a day as 
timid persons, unaccustomed to the hills, 
see fancied forms in every stump and 
bush, and startle at any little rustle of 
the leaves — 'twas such a day, when, as 
Felix and myself were engaged in tracing 
out tho lines of a quarts lead, we were 
led by its curve into a deep hollow, and 
among a thicket of ohapparel. As we 
were twisting and turning, stooping and 
stretching, in order to work a safe pass- 
age through, and escape damsg^ to either 
person or apparel, oar attention was di- 
rected to an openiui; at the left, towards 
which we made our way. On breaking 
through the labyrinth of bashes into the 



456 



HDTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



clearing — for such it appeared to be — 
we baited, and in no little amazement 
surveyed tbe scene before us. The open 
ground was in an irregular, circular 
)brm, and, in the centre, stood what 
seemed to be a cluster of shrubbery. 
That nature had no hand in the arrange- 
ment of things, as there exhibited, was 
very clear ; and who could have done it, 
and what for? were questions which pre- 
sented themselves and passed without 
satisfactory answers. Our first surprise 
over, we undertook to explore the ground, 
and if possible discover, by mark or sign, 
the object of this singular place. We 
first took the circumference, and finding 
nothing there to enlighten us, we ap- 
proached the centre, and here we found 
within the shrubbery another clearing, 
— we discovered it by peeping through 
the bushes — and could also dimly see 
some object enclosed. Our curiosity in- 
creasing, we felt determined to have a 
thorough investigation, but our endeav- 
ors to force a way through were unsuc- 
cessful — the limbs and twigs refused to 
part for us — this led to a closer inspec- 
tion, the result of which showed that the 
aforesaid limbs and twigs had at some 
time or other, probably in their youth, 
been twisted and interwoven together, 
and had so grown as to form an impene- 
trable barrier. Our desire now to see 
the whole grew stronger and stronger ; 
we felt that to remove this mystery would 
be to make a great point, and as our vo- 
oabulary contained not the word baffle, 
we commenced a vigorous examination 
of the hedge for an opening. Four times 
did we traverse the circuit, each time 
unsuccessful, but each time more curious 
and determined than before ; at length, 
the passage was found, overgrown with 
leaves and ivies, which we pushed aside 
and entered. Instead of passing directly 
through, we were obliged to crawl upon 
our hands and knees under and through 
tbe bushes half way round, when we sud- 



denly emerged upon the inside. I cannot 
account for it, but this I assert: no soon- 
er were we within, than a feeling of awe 
crept over us ; we spoke in whispers and 
communicated by signs ; it might have 
been imagination, but strange sounds 
seemed to fill the air, and echo followed 
echo through the hollow. That which 
we had so dimly seen through the bushes 
was located in about the centre, and more 
like criminals than honest men, we ad- 
vanced to satisfy our yet craving curios- 
ity. All that we saw were four slab 
STONES, about two inches in thickness, 
rough and irregular in shape, set in the 
earth so as to form a square about eight- 
een inches each way, and the same depth. 
That was all. We gased but for a mo- 
ment, and then hastily, in silence, and 
with our hearts thumping up to our rib?, 
we made the best of our way out and 
sought the neighboring hills. When fair- 
ly out of the hollow, and not till then, 
did we stop to draw a long breath, and 
compare notes. 

" What the d— 1 is it? " said Felix* I 
shook my head in reply. 

" Did you hear the noises ? " continued 
he. 

" Yes, did you ? " 

" Why of course ; what do you sup- 
pose they were ? " 

" Owls." 

" Well," said he, going off into a horse 
laugh, " I would'nt wonder if they were, 
and we a pair of fools to allow ourselves 
to get worked up in such a way. Let's 
go and get a shovel and dig the blamed 
stones up." 

" No, no, no, no I " said I. " Don't 
touch them ; there is something of inter- 
est connected with the place — something 
of Indian history, perhaps a legend, and 
oh, if it should be," continued I, bright- 
ening up, ** I shall be made — I have 
long wanted to be the humble man of 
bringing something of the kind to light. 
* Indian Sam ' can tell us all about it, 



THK FOUR SLAB STONES. 



Am 



and the fint time he oomee to camp we 
mast take him with Q8 down there, and 
I wUl write it out." 

" Agreed/' said Felix. '* Now let's go 
home." 

" Indian Sam " had heretofore been in 
the habit of passing our way and drop- 
T>Ing in once or twice a wee)L, and some 
tinea oftener ; he had no particular days, 
bat osnaily made his visit when going 
oat or returning from hunting ; his prin- 
cipal object in stopping seemed to be to 
inform us that he was very hungry, and 
to express a d^sire to partake of bread, 
and he rarely left without having his ap- 
petite, in some slight degree, appeased. 
A very friendly relation existed between 
" Sam " and ourselves. He could under- 
stand all that was said to him, and could 
apeak our language well enough tp be 
generally understood. He waa always 
willing to do odd jobs, such as bringing 
wood and water, turning the grindstone, 
and other light work. He knew us all 
by name, and he had a wonderful faculty 
of knowing just when any of as discard- 
ed a garment. In short, we looked upon 
" Sam " as our " retainer," and to a great 
extent fed and clothed him. 

I hare thought proper to digress and 
mention the above facts, in order that 
yoo may know something of the charac- 
ter of the person I selected to inter- 
pret the mystery of the Stones, and to 
inspire you with confidence in his simple 
Ule. 

Our discovery was made ia the early 
portion of the week, and each day after 
did I uniformly look for the coming of 
''Sam/' yet he came not; the entire 
week passed, and his ugly visage had not 
•miled apon us — each was never known 
before. Sunday morning I arose with 
the determination to start out in search 
of bis habitation, but when busily en- 
gaged over the fire with the fry pan, 
making preparation for breakfast, I heard 
not an unfamiliar grunt^ followed with 



** Mt mwA» hungalpi" The handle of 
the before-mentioned utensil went out of 
my hand like a hot ooal, and springing 
to an upright position, I exclaimed, *'Why 
'Sam,' here yoa are I Where in thunder 
have yon been T " 

" Me hunt — plenty hunt — aqnirrel — 
say — me hungaly." 

"All right, 'Sam,' poeo tiempo — by 
and by you go prospect with me 7 " 

"Si — yes — me prospect yoo — poaa 
tUmjpo — bum by — plenty prospect me.^ 

It is perhaps needless to say that that 
morning's repaat was hurried over. I 
gave ** Sam " an enormous slice of bread, 
and not only bread, but put batter on i^ 
and syrop all over the butter. I also 
presented him with an old shirt, and a 
pair of pants — those pants with a little 
patching would have lasted me another 
month, but I gave them to "Sam," — 
and besides, a pair of boots which I had 
been saving up for the purpoee of leath* 
ering pick-handles— yet, in the moment 
of frenxied generosity, I gave them to 
"Sam." Never was clothing and pro- 
vision so bountifully lavished upon a Dig- 
ger ; and, as for the recipient, he must 
have thoQght the millenium had surely 
come, his grim and swarthy features 
lightened up, and his dull, bleared eyes 
actually sparkled with delight. 

Fearing that, should we make known 
to our friend the immediate cause of so 
much liberality and kindness, some su- 
perstitious dread might prevent him from 
going with as, we had previously agreed 
to entice him near the pHce under the 
oover of prospecting, and then if he hea- 
itated, we would with kind words and 
promises draw him to the spoti and ooax 
from him all thai he knew relating to 
the place either personally or tradition- 
ally. 

'Twaa early when we started -—Felix* 
"Sam," and myeelf — all in exoelleni 
spirits; right glibly did we push along oa« 
til just before reaching the place where we 



458 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAOAZIKE. 



intended to leave the trail and commence 
our descent into the hollow ; here " Sam " 
began to lag — we called to him to come 
on, and resamed oar waj, turning off at' 
the proper point, but ** Sam's *' pace was 
very slow, and his features serious — he 
scarcely seemed to move, and we halted 
for him to come up. He reached the 
turning off place in the trail, but kept 
on, at the same time increasing his speed. 
We called on him to come down, but he 
walked the faster, and turned not. Again 
we called, and this time he replied in his 
own language, and each word came like 
a volume of fear — each syllable eame 
as though from a terror-stricken soul, 
and his gait became more and more 
rapid. We called once more, and made 
promises of reward, but the only response 
was those same Indian words, rather 
yelled than spoken, quivering as they 
came, and running at the top of his speed 
he passed out of sight behind the hill. 

Remarkable as this may seem, 'tis 
TRUE, and " Sam " has never been to our 
camp since. 

My very dear and gentle reader, I have 
told you all I know about "these stones." 
You are not satisfied, neither am I, but 
if ever I do succeed in having the mys- 
tery unraveled, I pledge the honor of my 
pen to write it down. 



SNOW-SHOES.* 

It is interesting to notice the skill and 
contrivance with which man adapts him- 
self to the different climates and physical 
peculifirities of the countries in which 
Providence has assigned him a dwelling. 
Places, which to us would seem utterly 
de8olat^, are not only rendered habita- 
ble, but are made to afford manv of the 
pleasures and even luxuries of life. Nat- 
ural difficulties are overcome with a read- 
iness in the application of means which 
may well excite our admiration and es- 
teem. In the chilly regions of the north, 
where the cold is Um intense for the 
growth even of the rugged pine — where, 



• Beprlnted firom Sharp4*9 London Magaaln^, 



during a large portion of the year, the 
waters are bound up with frost, and the 
earth is hidden beneath deep snow, the 
Esquimaux uses both the ice and the 
snow in the construction of a dwelling, 
which he finds warm and comfortable, 
while the external air is often more than 
fifty degrees below zero. When the hunt- 
ing grounds of the Indian are hidden 
beneath the same glittering mantle, on 
which we should suppose a foot heavier 
than that of a bird would find it impoasi- 
ble to tread with safety, the hunter and 
the traveler nevertheless fearlessly pur- 
sue their way by means of one of tnoee 
skilfttl contrivances alluded lo above. 
Experience has taught him that, by en- 
larging the surface of his foot, the slight 
cohesion among the particles of the snow 
beneath him is sufficient to support his 
body ; and accordingly, he supplies him- 
self with a pair of snow-shoes, with which 
he steps fearlessly forward over drifts 
which, without such aid, would prove 
fatal to him.. 

The snow-shoe in common use in the 
North American continent consists of two 
light bars of wood fastened together at 
their extremities, and bowed outwards 
by means of tran verse bars inserted be- 
tween them. The side bars are first 
brought into shape by means of a frame, 
and ^re dried before a fire. The front 
part of the shoe turns up like the prow 
of a boat, and the part behind terminates 
in an acute angle. The spaces between 
the bars are filled up with a fine netting 
of leathern thongs, except that part be- 
hind the main bar, which is occupied by 
the foot ; the netting is there close and 
strong, and the foot is attached to the 
main bar by straps passing round the 
heel, but only fixing the toes, so that the 
heel rises after each step, and the tail of 
the shoe is dragged on the snow. Between 
the main bar and another in front of it, 
a small space is left, permitting the toes 
to descend a little In the act of raising 
the heel to make the step forward, which 

Prevents their extremities from chafing, 
'he length of a snow-shoe is from four 
to six feet, and the breadth one foot and 
a half to one and three-quarters, being 
adapted to the size of the wearer. The 
motion in walking in them is perfectly 
natural, for one shoe is level with the 
snow, when the edge of the other is pass- 
ing over it. It is not easy to use snow- 
shoes among bushes without frequent 
overthrows, or to rise forwards without 



SNOW-SHOBS. 



459 



help. Each shoe weighs about two 
{xmnds. The Northern Indian shoes 
differ a little from those of the Southern 
lodians, ha?ing a greater curvature on 
the outside of each shoe ; one advantage 
of which is, that when the foot rises, the 
overbalanced side descends and throws 
off the snow. All the superiority of Eu- 
ropean art has been unable to improve 
the native contrivance of this useful ma- 
chine.* 

It is not di£Scult to walk in snow-shoes, 
bat one unaccustomed to their use is sure 
to suffer severely from a violent inflam- 
mation and swelling of the instep and 
sokles, called by the Canadians mod a 
raqueUe,^ This disease seldom excites 
&>mpassioD in the more experienced trav- 
elers, who push on as fast as they can, 
regardless of the pain of the sufferer. 

Spow-^hoes are apt to get dragged, es- 
peciallv in frosty weather, rendering fre- 
quent halt* necessary, in order to eet rid 
of the incumbrance. When there is wa- 
ter under the snow, and the cold is se- 
vere, large lumps of ice form on the 
■oow-shoes, and the foot at every step 
»eems as if it were chained to the ground. 

In traveling to any considerable dist> 
SDce over snowy regions, the party must, 
cf course, carry with them sufficient pro- 
visions for the whole journey. These are 
generally conveyed on dog-sledges, made 
of two or three flat boards, curving up- 
wards in front, and fastened together by 
transverse pieces of wood above. They 
are so thin, that if heavily laden, they 
bend with the inequalities of the surface 
over which they pass. The ordinary dog- 
■ledges are eight or ten feet long, and 
very narrow, but the lading is secured to 
a lacing round the edge. The weight 
QBually placed upon a sledge drawn by 
three do|^ at the commencement of a 
journey, la not less than three hundred 
p(>unds, which, however, suffers a daily 
diminution from the consumption of pro- 
nsioDs. The sledge itoelf weighs about 
thirty pounds. When the snow is hard 
froxen, or the track well-trodden, the rate 
of traveling is about two and a half miles 
u hour, including rests, or about fifteen 
uiles a day. If the snow is loose, the 
•peed is, of course, much less, and the 
fati:*ae greater. 

The general dress of the winter trav- 
eler is a eapot, with a hood to put up 
onder the fur cap in windy weather, or 

* trukUo^ am Joorncy to the ihorvt of the PoUr 



in the woods to keep the snow from the 
neck. The trowsers are of leather ; and 
the feet are protected by moccasins of 
ox-hide, or, still better, of the skin of the 
deer. The very best are of the hide of 
the moose deer, but this substance ia 
very scarce. The foot is first wrapped in 
a piece of blanket, cut for the purpose, 
and then thrust into the mocassin, which 
is fastened by thongs of soft leather pass- 
ing round the ankles. The upper part of 
the mocassin is composed of loose flaps 
which are passed under the stocking, 
which reaches no lower than the ankle ; 
by this contrivance the snow is kept out, 
and the foot is made warm and comforta- 
ble. The traveler's costume is completed 
by a blanket or leathern coat, secured by 
a belt round the waist, from which hang 
his fire-bag, knife, and hatchet. 

Captain Head has ^iven a lively de- 
scription of a journey in Canada, in the 
depth of winter, when the snow was ly- 
ing deep on the ground. The district was 
a wild one, without roads or even a track ; 
the ground was too nmgh, and the snow 
too deep for a sleigh ; and the party chose 
the frozen surface of a river as the smooth- 
est path. They marched in single file, 
moving heavily along upon their snow- 
shoes, seldom speaking, except at the end 
of ever^ half hour the foremost of the 
party yielded his place to one of the re»t ; 
the duty of the leader being the most la- 
borious, he having to open a path for the 
ethers. During the day, a snow-storm 
had been threatening : " Still, however, 
we went on, and it grew darker, till a 
heavy fall of snow, driven by a powerful 
windt came sweeping along the desert 
track, directly in our teeth ; so that, what 
with general fatigue, and the unaccus- 
tomed position of the body in the snow- 
shoes, i could hardly bear up and stand 
against it. The dreary howling of the 
tempest over the wide waste of snow 
rendered the scene even still more deso- 
late ; and with the unmitigated prospect 
before us of oold and hunger, our party 
plodded on in sullen silence, each, in hia 
own mind, well aware that it was utterly 
impracticable to reach that night the 
place of our destination. 

'* But, in spite of every obstacle, the 
strength of the two Canadians was as- 
toniitbing ; with bodies bent forward, and 
leaning on their collar, on they marched* 
drawing the tobogins* after them with a 

^ A imall hand-ilcdfe for cmiryiDf provMoot. 



460 



nUTCHINGS' CALIPORNIA MAGAZINE. 



firm, indefatif^able step ; and we had all 
walked a little more than seven hours, 
when the snow-storm had increased to 
such a pitch of violence, that it seemed 
impossible for any human creature to 
withstand it — it bia defiance even to their 
most extraordinary exertions. The wind 
DOW blew a hurricane. We were unable 
to see each other at a fi^eater distance 
than ten yards, and the drift gave an ap- 
pearance to the surface of the snow we 
were passing; over, like that of an agi- 
tated sea. Wheeled round every now and 
then by the wind, we were enveloped in 
clouds so dense, that a strong sense of 
finfFocation was absolutely produced." 
The party, therefore, halted, and sought 
the friendly shelter of a pine forest, 
where they leveled a maple tree, and hav- 
ing gathered some large pieces of bark, 
proceeded to shovel away the snow from 
a sauare spot of ground. ** The fibrous 
bark of the white cedar, previously rub- 
bed to powder between the hands, was 
ignited, and blowing upon this, a flame 
was produced. This being fed, first by 
the silky peelings of the birch bark, and 
then by the bark itself, the oily and 
pitchy matter burst forth into full action, 
and a splendid fire raised its flames and 
smoke amidst a pile of huge logs, to 
which one and all of us were constantly 
and eagerly contributing." 

The place of encampment is usually 
called the hut, and as soon as the snow 
has been cleared away, is usually covered 
with pine branches, over which the party 
spread their blankets and coats, and sleep 
in warmth and comfort, by keeping a 
good fire at their feet, without any other 
canopy than the sky, even though the 
thermometer should be far below lero. 

'' The arrival at the place of encamp^ 
ment," says Franklin, '* gives immediate 
occupation to every one of the party, and 
it is not until the sleeping place has been 
arranged, and a sufficiency of wood col- 
lected as fuel for the night, that the fire 
is allowed to be kindled. The dogs alone 
remain inactive daring this busy scene, 
being kept harnessed to their burdens 
until the men have leisure to unpack the 
sledges, and hang upon the trees every 
article of provision out of the reach of 
these rapacious animals." 

Similar in its uses to the snow-shoe is 
the snow-skate of the Norwegian, and is, 
indeed, a far more powerful and efficient 
machine. The skies^ or snow-skates, con- 
sist of two thin, narrow pieces of fir, of 



unequal lengths, and turned up in front. 
The longer skate, which measures about 
seven feet, is used on the left foot ; the 
other, which is about two feet shorter, on 
the rieht. The width is about three inches 
and the thickness at the part where the 
foot is placed, about an inch. Strong 
loops of willow, or of fir root, are fixed to 
the sides, through which are passed the 
leather thongs for attaching the skate to 
the foot. The skates are smeared with 
pitch, and on the under side is a hollow 
groove to prevent slipping. The under 
side is also covered with seal-skin or 
rough bear-hide, for the same purpose. 

Daring the wars between Sweden and 
Norway, two regiments were trained to 
the use of these skates, and were called 
Skieloberet or skate-runners. These two 
battalions consisted of about six hundred 
men, and were drilled during winter. 
Their rifles were slung, and each man 
carried a staff, flattened at the end, to 
prevent it from sinking in the snow, and 
to assist him in leaping over such obsta- 
cles as stood in the way. They descended 
hills with wonderful rapidity; and in 
drawing up, they left room between the 
files to turn in the skates, which they did 
by changing the right foot by an extra- 
ordinary motion which would seem to 
dislocate the ankle. "An army would 
be completely in the power of even a 
handful of these troops, which, stopped 
by no obstacle, and swift as the wind, 
might attack it on all points ; while the 
depth of the snow, and the nature of the 
country, would not only make any pur- 
suit impossible, but almost deprive tnem 
of the means of defence, the Skielobere, 
still hovering round them like swallows, 
skimming the icy surface and dealing 
destrnction upon their helpless adversa- 
nes. ' 

The skates are still in common use in 
Norway ; the widely-dispersed inhabit- 
ants, without distinction of age or sex, 
making use of them in winter ; travers- 
ing mountains, lakes, and arms of the 
sea, as well as level ground, and often 
saving several leagues of the distance 
they are obliged to travel at other seasons. 
On a common road, a good skater will 
travel fasten than a horse in a sleigh. 
His progress up hill, however, is slow 
and fatiguing, and on hard snow he would 
slip backwards but for the rough skin on 
the under surface of the skates. But he 
descends the steepest mountains with as- 
tonishing rapidity, avoiding precipices, 



SUNSHINE. 



461 



and fading hit flight irith his pole. It 
is said that coDsiderable skill and prac- 
tice are required to become a good snow* 
skater. 



SUNSHINE. 

BT O. T. 8. 

Blxssid be God for sunshine I — and by 
sanshine I do not mean the mere shining 
of the natoral sun ; but that sunshine of 
the spirit that spreads Its halo around 
htm who possesses it, and makes him ap- 
pear like one of those heavenly yisitants 
tent to save and to bless. ** A sunny 
spirit^" said Dr. Johnson, ** is worth more 
than m thousand pounds.'' He might 
hare said ten thousand pounds, and then 
not bare estimated it too highly — for in- 
deed what is the wealth of all the world 
wichoot it f The grumbler enjoys nothing 
with all his hoard of gains ; his outward 
wealth is but a burlesque on his inward 
poverty. The cheerful man feels, as 
Prederica Bremer says, ' *' like dancing 
with the whole world." His heart goes 
unt, and leaps for jf»y among the green 
sunny highlands of ezisteoce; to him 
every spot, however waste, has its littl3 
ca.«is, with its bright rivulets and banks 
of flowers. 

And then how every thing around him 
looks brighter for his smile — for he is 
like the sun, that brings joy and glad- 
neae wherever it goes. Every one feels 
happier for his presence, 

" E'en cbildren follow, with endearing wile, 
And plock his gown to share the good 
man's smile ; ** 

and the dumb animals seem to recognise 
him at ooce, and look up into his eyee as 
if to seek their friendly gase« 

** I know not why I am so happy," 
said Doddridge's little giri, '* except that 
it is baeause I love every body, and every 
body loves me." Blessed be childhood 1 
It bad disoovered a i^reat irttih» that it 



takes many of us all ouj lives to learn — 
the power that dwells in that one word, 
— Lovx. 

Some one said of a lady, remarkable 
for her equanimity, that her *' smile was 
so sunny that it made the flowers bloom." 
I do not doubt it ; and it was no miracle^ 
either. 

'* But how can I possess cheerfulness T" 
says one, or "sunshine, as you call it, 
when it makes no part of my nature? " 
Believe me— like every thing else wa 
possess, it requires cultivation. 

If you arise in the morning with the 
disposition to make no effort during the 
day to bear and forbear, if you throw the 
reins on the mad neck of your passions, 
and suffer them to drive with you where- 
ever they list, you must not wonder if 
they land you in a slongh at last. Talk 
of sunshine to such an one ? As well 
expect serenity in a mad man 1 As well 
expect that storms will not disturb the 
sea, as that passions, unchecked, will not 
disturb the sea of your mind. But if yon 
start with the determination to keep cool 
and collected under provocation, you will 
find that every victory gives you fresh 
strength, and you will surely come off 
victorious, and you will do more than he 
who iaketh a eiiy — you will rule a tpirii. 

Our hearts should be like that fabled 
fountain of Anlethus, so beautifully re- 
corded by the ancients, which, though it 
flowed out of the earth bitter and turbid 
at first, afterward, in its course, became 
sweet and pure, and transparent as 
crystal : — 

«Out upon the calf, I say, 
Who turns his grumbling bead away. 
And quarrels with bis feed of hay, 
Because it is not clover. 

'< Give to me the happy mtad, 
That will ever seek and find 
Something good and something kind. 
All the wide world over." 



462 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



AMELIA OLDENBURGH. 



BT CLOE. 



[Continued from page 418.] 

Mb. Tresto's vast property fell to a 
coosin, Mr. Richard Tresto, who was a 
fashionable and stylish man of the world. 
His wife was his counterpart. Every 
thing that was not in yogue among the 
aristocracy, was discountenanced by 
them; and this sudden acquisition of 
property greatly facilitated their love of 
luxury. The mansion was refitted in 
princely etyle. Mr. Richard Tresto had 
three daughters, at this time, young 
ladies. Miss Emma was a plump, chubby 
girl, short* and with red coarse hair; 
there was little beauty in her composi- 
tion. Her disposition was as disagreea- 
ble as she was homely. Mary was rather 
tall, with fair hair, and passable face, 
rather intellectual, proud, and envious of 
any who possessed more beauty than 
herself. Lucy, the youngest — near four- 
teen — was like her sister Emma in looks, 
but indolent, and rather good natured. 
A maiden aunt, was also a member of 
the family — Miss Ruth Mulford — who 
was past thirty. Ruth had been a beauty, 
and still was fine looking. There were 
marks of deep-rooted trouble on her 
countenance. These comprised Mr. Tres- 
to's family, excepting numerous servants. 
Amelia was retained in the family, as 
their pride would not let them suffer her 
to seek another home ; but, notwithstand- 
ing this privilege was granted her, she 
was only looked upon as a menial, and 
compelled to give up her nice room for 
one among the servants. The Misses 
Tresto disliked Amelia at first sight, al- 
though she strove to please them. Miss 
Emma endeavored, in every way, to hum- 
ble Amelia, and make her feel her de- 
pendence on their charity. Amelia was 
unprepared for this new treatment ; she 
became melancholy and heart-eick; it 



was not home to her now; the only 
pleasure she enjoyed was in rambling 
over the places where she and Caleb had 
gathered so many shells and flowers. 
How dear to her memory was the fond 
recollection of Caleb's kindness, and 
of his dear parents, who had been to her 
all that parents could be. " Oh 1 that I 
had died with them I " would often es- 
cape her lips. 

She had lived with Mr. Richard Tresto 
about a year, and was in her fifteenth 
year. Her remarkable beauty attracted 
much attention ; and, in consequence of 
this, she was kept out of sight as mach 
as possible. Miss Ruth was always kind, 
and considerate of Amelia's feelings. 
Amelia soon perceived this, and her des- 
olate and grateful heart loved her as if 
she were her only friend. Miss Ruth was 
not treated as one of the family, but as a 
servant. She received their ill treatment 
with mild patience and forbearance ; she 
was always sewing for her proud rela- 
tives. Amelia was required to assist 
Miss Ruth in sewing. 

'* Miss Ruth," said Amelia, " you sew 
with as much diligence as if yob were a 
hired seamstress." 

"Yes, Amelia, I am always harried 
with work : it comes in as fast as I get it 
out." 

" I should think you would injure your 
health, sitting so much 1 Why don't yoa 
take a ride some times with the Misses 
Tresto ? I know it would do you good." 

" My dear," said Ruth, turning an in- 
quiring look at Amelia, "why do you 
ask me such questions ? " 

'* 0, because I don't think they treat 
you quite right." 

'* I suppose it don't look quite right to 
you ; but ciroumstances alter cases." 

"Why, as Madam's sister, I should 
think you entitled to every privilege that 
sisters generally allow each other." 

" I am only halfHBister to Madam Tres- 
to, and was never a favorite with her ; 



AMELIA OLDENBURQH. 



463 



tod I am also dependent on her for my 
rapport, jast m jou are, Amelia." 

** Bat you have a more natural right 
to their sympathy." 

" I never presume upon our relation- 
ship," said Ruth, " and there are some 
things in my history which somewhat 
justify their oondnot toward me; but 
you are not old enough to know my mis- 
fortunes. Tou have much to learn, dear 
Amelia — perhaps bitter lessons — but I 
pray God you may be spared " 



•• 



Oh 1 1 hope I shall never know more 
bitter trials than I have passed through," 
said Amelia, bursting into tears; and, 
putting her arms around Ruth's neck, 
she besought her to love, cherish and ad- 
viee her. Ruth dropped the halffinished 
garment from her hands, and pressing 
Amelia to her heart, gave way to a flood 
of tears. The fountains of her long pent 
up grief were broken up ; hidden sor- 
rows burst forth afresh. 

Amelia was alarmed at her violent 
grief* and her own troubles were swal- 
lowed up in her sympathy for Miss Ruth. 
Young as she was, she could see that it 
waa no trifling sorrow that oould disturb 
the general calm exterior worn by Miss 
Rath. From this time, Amelia laid all 
her trials open before her, ever receiving 
from her encouragement and good ad- 
vice. 

Noi long after the occurrence just 
fnentioned. Miss Emma Tresto returned 
from a watering-place, aooompanied by 
several ladies and gentlemen ; company 
lliroBged the mansion ; a large party was 
also given, which was attended by all the 
eliie of Philadelphia, and was considered 
ihe most brilliant affair of the season. 

Another important event was about to 
trattspire; Miss Emma was to be mar* 
ried. Two weeks was all the impatient 
bridegroom could give her to prepare for 
the wedding. Hurry, bustle, and ooo- 
foeion appeared the order of the day. 
MilUaers and dress-makers were all in 



requisition. Miss Emma made the ac- 
quaintance of her intended at the Springs. 
He was represented as rich and accom- 
plished; his personal appearance was 
quite prepossessing, and it was considered 
quite an eligible match. Miss Emma 
was fond of novelty, and this sudden and 
important acquaintance gave her invent- 
ive mind plenty of room to build won- 
derful air castles. 

" He has quite a foreign accent," said 
she ; *' perhaps he is a nobleman. Tes, 
I know he is — and the dear, kind gentle- 
man wants to surprise me. How delight- 
ful I Dundee I yes, it is a Scotch name 1 
Lady Dundee is quite grand 1 I always 
did like to read of Scotch nobles, but 
never dreamed of being one of them. 
Pa is going to give me quite a fortune, 
and when I told Mr. Dundee, he said it 
was his love for me that induced him to 
wish a matrimonial alliance with his 
adored Emma. Ah, yes ! now I think of 
it, I must take my traveling dresses up 
to Ruth's room, for she fits me better than 
any one else ; she must finish all three 
this week." 

Feeling quite consequential, Miss Em- 
ma went to Miss Ruth with the dresses. 

"You must finish these dresses this 
week, Ruth ; I mu»i have them. We are 
going to Europe on a wedding tour." 

" To-day is Wednesday, and the time 
is so short I don't think it possible for 
me to finish them," said Roth, mildly. 

'* Yes, you can, and you must You 
have got so lately that you don't earn 
your salt Come, go about it ; if you 
can't get through, call that little lasy 
huisy, Amelia." 

Saying this In an insulting manner, 
she slammed the door after her, and left 
poor Ruth to perform her hard task. 
Amelia soon after entered Ruth's room, 
and was surprised to see her weeping. 

"What is the matter, dear ftiend?" 
said Amelia, affectionately kissing Ruth's 
tears from her eyes. Miss Emma has 



464 



nUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



been iiwulting you again. I hate her for 
her unkind Dess to you." 

'*No» child," said Ruth, '*You must 
never indulge in such sentiments ; they 
are unworthy of you; rather forgive and 
pity her." 

*' I cannot but feel contempt for any 
person who iusults another without pro- 
vocation," replied Amelia. 

'* There are many unpleasant thiuirs to 
endure in this heartless world, and to the 
friendless they often occur ; and it would 
wear us to the grave to always feel re- 
sentment," said Ruth, " and we must 
possess our souls in patience. Ask of 
God, and he will enable you to perform' 
a more difficult task than you have ever 
borne, or I either." 
*' You are so good, dear Ruth, that 
f nothing appears hard to you. If I were 
as good as yon are, it would not be diffi- 
cult for me to 'endure insults with pa- 
tience." 

"I am not good, dear Amelia, but, 
with God's helpr I hope to endure with 
patient forbearance all the evils that may 
fall to my lot." 

"And I also hope you will pray for 
me, that I may, dear Ruth. My mother 
prayed for me on ^at fated vessel ; — I 
remember it well — and my darling moth- 
er Tresto often prayed for me, kneeling 
by my bedside." 

These fond recollections choked Ame- 
lia's utterance, and she wept sorrowfully. 
" Do not weep, Amelia I Their prayers 
in your behalf will be answered; they 
will be like bread ca^t upon the waters, 
gathered after many days. Come, put 
your trust in God, and He will eare 
for youl Come, now, Amelia, let us 
begin our sewing, and do nil we can to 
finish these dresses." 

"I hope we may be able to finish 
them," said Amelia, " for I dread to hear 
another scolding." 

Steadily they plied their needles, until 
a late hour at night. 



" You had better go to bed, Amelia," 
said the kind«hearted Ruth. 

" No, I will sit up as long as you do." 

" Well, just as you please." 

Soon the clock struck three, and they 
folded their work and retired. Three 
successive days and nights found them 
working as if their lives depended on the 
finishing of the dresses. Sunday came, 
and one of the dresses was not finished. 

" What will we do, Ruth ? Emma will 
be so angry 1 " 

"Do? why, we will have to take all 
she feels disposed to say." 

They did not converse long before Miss 
Emma made a hasty appearance. 

'* Did you get the dresses done, Rath?" 

'* The two traveling dresses are done ; 
but the morning dress, not quite/' re- 
plied Ruth. 

** Did I not tell you that I must have 
these dresses ? " 

" Yes, but it was impossible for us to 
have them done." 

" You hateful, old ungrateful thing ! 
This is all we get for hiding your shame. 
Where would you be if it were not for 
us? — what would become of your child, 
that you are ashamed to own ? You are a 
disgrace to our family, and I only wonder 
mother don't disown you altogether. I 
am sure I should. Don't you put in your 
gab. Miss Amelia ; it is not wanted.'' 

After exhausting her spite on poor 
Ruth, who now sat weeping and sobbing 
like a child, she snatched up the dresses 
and left the weeping girls alone. 

'*Dear Ruth," said Amelia, "howl 
pity you I How nnfeeling in Emma to 
torture you ! What did she mean T Have 
you a child, Ruth ? " 

" Yes, a dear little boy, Amelia, bat I 
have never seen him since his birth; 
neither have I any knowledge of his 
whereabouts. Oh 1 Amelia, it is this that 
is near breaking my heart. It is not 
proper that I should tell you more at this 
time. I ought to bear my trials alona. 



AMEUA OLDENBURQH. 



465 



I was more in fault than any one else." 
** Bat, dear Ruth, may I not sympa- 
thise with you in your sorrows ? I know 
there must be some sore trials and wrongs 
yoQ have endured. Will you not tell me 
your history? I would dearly love to 
know how to comfort you." 

" I cannot tell you at this time, dear 
Amelia; but, on some future occasion, 
perhaps I may. But leaye me now, my 
friend, that I may regain my composure. 
These excitements quite overcome me." 
Amelia arose, and kissing Ruth, she 
entered her own room. Her heart was 
full of sad thoughts ; the events of the 
morning had not only grieved her, but it 
had opened her eyes to the real character 
of the Tresto family. 

" Po.T Ruth I yours is a life of trial. 
Would to heaven I could alleviate your 
sorrows! Ohl " thought Amelia, '- if I 
were only rich, it would give me unspeak- 
able pleasare to lighten her wearisome 
burden I How I wish that my will, in 
my locket, were worth something I If it 
is, she shall share it with me. She is so 
patient and kind that she seems the per- 
sonification of goodness." 

While in this train of thought, she took 
oat her locket, and again examined the 
will, and the ring. 

*' Who knows that my dear father Tres- 
to was right in the supposition that I will 
be rich when this will is tested ? " 

Af^er tiring of examining the locket's 
contents, she locked it up in safety. Her 
thiiughts were now in a melancholy train ; 
a secret longing t6 vi^it the enchanting 
spots that Caleb and she used to vi;iit in 
happy timee gone by. Taking her straw 
hat, she was soon rambling over familiar 
spot*. Soon she reached a favorite re- 
aort, where a large elm stood upon the 
bank of a little stream that run in its 
crooked ooorse over pebbles of many 
color*. The clear dimpled water refresh- 
ed many a flower that grew on its banks. 
AfM^tiJA toon collected a number of her 



favorite flowers, and seated herself on the 
grass under the shady elm. It was a 
beautiful day : the frosts of full had 
turned the autumnal leaves with many 
variegated hues. The birds, too, were 
. singing in the merry sunshine. All 
nature appeared lovely and rejoicing. 
Tears filled her eyes, as she contrasted 
the quiet of this beautiful retreat with 
the unpleasant scenes of the morning at 
the mansion. Falling upon her knees, 
she thanked Ood that she was still per- 
mitted to enjoy this quiet pleasure that 
nature afforded her. She arose with re- 
newed oonfidence in the wisdom of God. 
The pure fresh air revived her drooping 
energies. She had risen from her grassy 
seat and stood gasing at the lovely scene 
around her, and calling to mind the 
many pleasant little romps she used to 
have with Caleb under the venerable 
elm that now towered above her head. 

" My lamented brother, how I miss thy 
generous friendship 1 Oh, my Heavenly 
Father, why hast thou spared my unprof- 
itable life ! " 

" To bless mankind," said a voice near 
her. Startled at this unexpected address, 
she gave a sudden bound, and fell nearly 
to the earth. A strong arm liHed her 
up. 

*' I beg pardon. Miss, for frightening 
you in this manner." 

*'You are forgiven," said Amelia, 
blushing scarlet, "but I did not know 
any person was near." 

** You were thinking aloud, were you T" 
said Mr. Philips, with a smile. 

"I was not conscious that I spoke, 
aloud," replied Amelia, scarcely knowing 
what excuse to offer. 

She was preparing to return to the 
mansion, when one of the gentlemen in* 
quired " if he had the pleasure of mee^ 
ing one of Mr. Tresto's daughters f " 

" No, sir ; I am not honored with thai 
name. My name is Amelia Olden burgh." 
We are most happy to meet so charm* 



<• 



466 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINB. 



ing a lady in our morDing ride. My 
name ia Mr. Philips ; and allow me to 
introduce you to my uncle, Mr. Hunt." 

Mr. Hunt cordially extended his hand 
to her, and, with many flattering praises 
of her youth and beauty, hoped for a con-* 
tinuance of so agreeable an acquaintance. 

"Do you reside at the mansion, Miss 
Oldenburgh ?'' 

''Yes, sir," replied Amelia ; and pick- 
ing up her straw hat from the grass, 
where it had fallen, she bid the gentle- 
men good morning and returned to the 
bouse. 

" Who is she. Uncle Hunt ?" said Mr. 
Philips, much interested in the fair little 
stranger. 

"An angel, perhaps,'' replied Mr. 
Hunt, "I never heard of her name before; 
but she is evidently a well-bred lady. 
May be a visitor at the mansion, on this 
wedding occaoion." 

"Yes, undoubtedly," returned Mr. 
Philips. " She must be a comparative 
stranger in these parts, else we should 
have heard of her rare beauty before this." 

"True, Philips; I think she is the 
most beautiful young lady I have seen 
for many a long day. In fact, I don't 
think I ever saw her superior in this par- 
ticular. It is a wonder that knave of a 
Dunbar don't try his lady-killing arts on 
this fair creature, instead of that red 
haired amazos, Emma Tresto, whom I 
consider the plainest woman of my ac- 
quaintance." 

" He knows what he is about ; it is the 
dimes. I guess by this time his pockets 
are empty — ^am I not correct. Uncle ?" 

" Doubtless you are, in this instance, 
Philips." 

" Let us call on the ladies at the man- 
sion. Uncle Hunt. Would you not like 
to see more of ou^ little praying fairy 7" 
" Yes, I would like very much to feast 
my eyes on this rarity, but I never call 
on that detestable family — they and I 
must ever be strangers." 



Mr. Hunt was a wealthy banker, a 
bachelor of forty summers, though time 
had stolen few of the graces from his 
manly brow. His tall, graceful figure, 
and piercing black eyes lost little in com- 
parison with his nephew, who was not 
unlike his uncle in appearance, except in 
his mild hazel eyes. Mr. Philips waa 
his uncle's junior partner in the banking 
business, and were both men of more 
than ordinary ability. 

"Why, Uncle," said Mr. Philips, "can't 
you do away with this old grudge, and 
call with me this morning?" 

"It would give me real pleasure to call 
on Miss Oldenburgh, were she in any 
other place except Mr. Tresto's ; his of- 
fence to me is of such magnitude that I 
can never overlook it." 

" Sorry for this," replied Mr. Philips, 
" as it deprives me of seeing that little 
witch that has quite charmed me. I re- 
ally believe I am quite in love ; perhaps. 
Uncle, you are afVaid of the tender pas- 
sion in your bachelor heart, lest you 
should be my rival. Am I not correct. 
Uncle, hey ?" 

"Not this time, Philips; yon have 
nothmg to fear in the shape of a rivaL 
I admire her, as I do every lovely wo- 
man ; but I have never loved but once. 
Then I gave all my heart, and it has nev- 
er returned to me whole, but is still a 
captive. Time, nor circumstance, have 
ever altered my sentiments ; though un- 
worthy, as she has proved, my fond heart 
still clings to her image. The wounds I 
received from her, can never be healed 
by another." 

^* What has become of the fair tmant. 
Uncle ?" 

" I do not know. Philips, neither hare 
I enquired these six years. And now, 
nephew, I would caution you not to sur- 
render your heart, too entirely, until jou 
know of a certainty that the object is 
worthy of your devotion." 

"Thank you for your timely advice; 



HE HAS GONE TO HIS REST. 467 



baty etfly aa it is given, I am like a 
charmed bird, ready to risk all for my 
charmer. There can be nothing eyil in 
80 lair an exterior." 

" Perhape not," replied Mr. Hunt, who 
had become quite melancholy, and out of 
hia usual gay humor; "I hope not, for 
your sake." 



Haying now reached the place where 
they had tied their horses, they mounted 
and rode back to the city, Mr. Hunt with 
quite a damper on his spirits, and Mr. 
Philips with a new object in view that 
occupied all his thoughts. 

[7b h4 canUmu4 d .] 



'm*m 



a 



HE HAS GONE TO HIS REST." 



1. 

He has gone to his rest, with his laurels around him. 
His great heart is beating with life's throbs no more ; 

All broken the ties to earth, that once bound him. 
All ended his struggles, bis labors all o'er. 

II. 

'Neath the sod of the valley, in sorrow they^Te laid him. 
And the willow bends lowly above his oold grave ; 

His friends and hb foes, in onion, have paid him 
The meed of the true to the name of the brave. 

III. 

He died not in battle, where bright sabres were gleaming. 
He fell not as those who have filled glory's page, — 

He passed not, like Gorsican hero, while dreaming 
Of fields where war's thunders still belched forth their rage; 

IV. 

But he died as the day dies, when sunlight is Vosing, 

And nature is hushed in the stillness of rest ; 
He sank in death's arms, as an infant reposing 

In silent content, on its mother's soft breast. 

y. 

Kind friends stood around him, as calmly he waited 
The summons that bore him to the bright world on high; 

And they knew by his smiles, as life's pulses abated. 
That learning to live, he had found how to die. 

yi. 

Now sweetly he resteth, where others before him 
Have resigned to old earth their fetters of clay ; 

The flag that he loved is still floating o'er him. 
And his virtues shall live forever and aye. M. 



468 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



NATURAL FORCES. 

We stand upon this green and rock- 
built earth to read its mysteries and un- 
derstand its truths. We have not yet 
learned them all, and we never can — 
Nature rests upon the supernatural sci- 
ence, and floats on the great infinitude of 
Nescience — at bottom a miracle for- 
ever. Tet, in virtue of our mingled 
nature, the natural and the spiritual, v( e 
see the universe, not only that it is, but 
understand in some measure how it is. 
The reason in us stands over against the 
reason in nature, searching out its hidden 
mysteries and revealing those inner laws 
that formed its eternal architype in abso- 
lute mind, before ever the world was. — 
We see the universe about us, an aggre- 
gate of atoms, not powerless, lifeless and 
unmoved — not chaos "without form and 
void," but subject to forces ever act- 
ing, continuous and irresistible— forces 
bringing order from disorder, and life 
from death — mysterious architects build- 
ing by divine commission this wondrous 
temple of the world — working out in 
awful silence, and with fierce wild energy 
that unknown destiny — impalpable, in- 
sensible ; yet we know they, are, for we 
read their record everywhere, written on 
the adamantine rock,, and in the spark- 
ling alphabet of heaven. Rude uncul- 
tured men acknowledge their being and 
their power — they recognize in teluric 
changes and organic growth, a mysterious 
agency. With their free open sense and 
childlike simplicity, they stand face to 
face with nature, owning and worshiping 
as is most natural, the divinities that 
they see rule. "In the black thunder 
cloud, is not the storm king veiled 7 Is 
not the thunder his angry voice, and the 
lightning the flash of his chariot wheel, 
as he passes on the swift winged tempest?" 
Better to worship thus than not at all. 
There is often almost a prophecy in my- 
thology — a strange insight, revealing in 



the light phantom of a poet's dream, irhat 
laborious science by its tedious process, 
long afterward finds true. The fable of 
Prometheus is wonderful, who taught the 
ancients of a life breathing dignity in 
light. Newton has but changed the name 
of the Norsemen's Serpent of Midgard. 
But, now the guardian spirits have passed 
from the stream and the fountain, they 
dwell no more in the sparkling wave— 
no more in the silent forest — the Gods 
have left Olympus and the Giants their 
Jotun-heim. Yet, not now as usual has 
the ideal lost its beauty and its poetic 
interest in the real. Science reveals the 
spiritual in nature — the immaterial prin- 
ciples that pervade and animate gross 
matter, giving it a life semblance, mould- 
ing it to beauty or mouldering to decay- 
around which matter clings and aggre- 
gates and grows like the body round the 
soul. A stone is simply a stone to most 
men, yet in it are hidden mysteries that 
angels might explore with wonder— ii 
lies inert, unheeded by the roadside, yet 
the povror that binds it there, is the Ser- 
pent of Midgard, circling the universe— 
the ruling spirit that restrains all others 
in their wildest moods — it fashions the 
dew-drop on the flower and in obedience 
to it, the great orbs above us clasp their 
giant hands and mingle in the mystic 
dance forever. Two forces acting in con- 
stant antagonism preserve its solid form- 
heat and cohesion we name them. The 
solid, liquid and gaseous conditions are 
in no case necessary — all things tremble 
in the balance, between these opposing 
forces — one iota added to either side 
would send aloft the densest solid, in 
curling vapor, or make adamant of light- 
est ether. The forces of nature, wild 
and terrible as they are in their undirect- 
ed energy, yet bow before the dignity of 
mind submissive to its decrees. Man 
was not made to labor only, but to stand 
in the channel circle of science, the arch 
evocator of its powers, and notwithstand- 



NATURAL FORCES. 



469 



ing the popular admiration for theuDaa- 
abted iodastry of our aDcesters, a nation's 
progress is measured by the amount of 
natural force substituted for mere mus- 
cular exertion. 

Revolution changes growth, and decay 
is the order of the universe — ^forms cheer- 
ing as with their beauty or startling with 
their terror, arise and disappear like 
phantoms of the night Look on that 
erystal gem, that decks to-day the brow of 
beanty — Ibroes at work in silence, beneath 
the earth's girdling ocean, or in some 
gold spangled cavern, have moulded the 
plastic element to that form of solid sym- 
metry — destroy their equilibrium, and the 
diamond floats in air and invisible gas — 
unpress it with new forces and it will 
take another form, bends in the towering 
tree or richly scented flower — let others 
Again excite it, and it quickens with new 
energy, and the life force moulds it to a 
living thing, and fits it for the gladness 
nnd the glory of a soul — ^we are all of us 
made much of diamond dust. 

The sun shining in its far distance, is 
the great magician that works these 
changes. Our planet began its course 
charged with a certain amount of phy- 
sical forces, which are and ever will be 
indestructible. By an external agency 
the balance of these forces is destroyed, 
and in the constant effort to regain tiieir 
equilibrium, all the phenomena of change, 
organic and inorganic appear. This dis- 
turbing agent is the sunbeam* There is 
a miracle in it — our earth, that slept be- 
fore in its dark cold solitude, it wakes to 
life and gladness — it folds each day its 
robe of light around and crowns it with 
the blushing beauty of all living things. 
The amorphous rock, the crystal gem, in 
its dark hidden cavern, the rich tinted 
flowers and the bird that sings at heaven's 
high gate, owe each their form to its fairy 
touch* Every physical force it excites 
and regulates. It brings to our orb, not 
light alone nor heat alone, but activum ; 



the mystery of radiant chemical force 
depends upon it — electricity and mag- 
netism are twined in its silvery cord. — 
The sunbeam is an organ builder; the 
true promethean torch. '* Light, offspring 
of heaven first born," is parent of life — 
darkness, the herald not alone of "na- 
ture's bweet restorer, balmy sleep," but 
nature's dire destroyer, dreaded death. 
The sunbeam never dies — as the warm 
life stream flows ever from its source, it 
sinks not unretumiog in the dull coU 
earth, but phoenix like springs forth in 
that living verdure that waves its grace- 
ful forms and flings its incense on the 
breese. The subtile spirit still lives em- 
bodied in the plant, and when the vege- 
table organism is again destroyed, freed 
from its prison bars, the mystic flame 
leaps forth radiant and sparkling in the 
joy of liberty. Flame is visible force— im- 
prisoned sunbeams set free again. This 
is no poetic fancy, but certain fact The 
miner digs from the bed, far down be- 
neath many formations, the rocky anthra- 
cite, and the burning coal disolves in 
genial flame, yet the light and heat that 
it gives forth to-day, is the same that 
ages ago floated across the wide abyss 
from the universal source. It was buried 
with the rank luxuriance of the paleroic 
age, and there since then it has lain 
chained in that dungeon of sunbeam. 

Mysterious agency, what monster that 
untutored men have reared to it their 
rugged altars, that psgan fire worship- 
pers and Roman vestal virgins have 
tended the undying flame, when even 
philosophers must recognise it as the dim 
shadow of an infinite power that dwells 
behind the veil. The forces of nature 
then, as markers of the we/ul, teach man 
the utilitarian economist, all that can 
alleviate his material condition here. — 
As framers of the beautiful, they lend to 
man, the poet thinker, a holy light that 
shines not on but through these outward 
forms, revealing the universe as a fane 



AGNES EMERSON. 



471 



eeeded to the property of both father and 
brother, and this, added to her own for- 
tune, rendered her ineome Tery large. 
At a liberal salary, her remaining cousin 
DOW acted ae her agent in Virginia. 

For two years she had resided in the 
boose, formerly her brother's, in New 
York; and with her lived a distant rela- 
tive, an elderly maiden lady, as protec- 
tress and companion. From Miss Nisbet 
>be received the sincerest sympathy ; the 
old lady's kindnese and affection, and the 
tender interest she evidently felt, as well 
IS exhibited, on the point nearest to her 
heart, had deservingly won for her a 
warm attaofament on the part of Agnes. 

"And to-morrow, dear Miss Nisbet, 
we shall be on the sea," said Miss Emer- 
800, as, late in the evening, they sat in 
the drawing room. ** Oh, you are kind 
to venture on such a voyage ; I know you 
act in opposition to your own wishes, to 
gratify me, and me alone." 

" Kay, Agnes, not so ; it is my wish as 
well IS your own to go. First, it is my 
doty ; for to you I owe everything since 
my little all was swept away, and this 
aoxiety of yours must be relieved, for it 
is fast telling upon your health; and 
now. dear Agnes, to bed, for we must be 
early astir in the morning. We will be 
woo in Fngland, and then, by enquiries 
at the East India House, we can get re- 
ceot intelligence of Harrison ; perhaps, 
too, he maj soon be home there ; his last 
letter said in a year or two he hoped to 
leave India." Kissing Agnes affection- 
ately, M they prepared to leave the room, 
ihe whispered softly, " and /; too, desire 
to bear of, and to see, this lover of yours; 
I feel an interest in him independent of 
Joo,^for— for— Au /o/A^ was the only 
man I ever loved — now that is my secret, 
which has not crossed my lips for nearly 
forty years." 

"And did he love you? — but yes, he 
mast have done ; you never would have 
•ight" 




"He did, truly ; more truly than I de- 
served. He was high spirited and I was 
foolish, worse than foolish, and so we 
quarreled." 

"And did you never make it up?" 

"Never, Agnes — Jtever. I had told 
him not to speak to me again — he was 
proud — ^it was our Uut meeting" 

" Bear Miss Nisbet," said Agnes, affec- 
tionately embracing her, " how true it is, 
every heart knoweth its oum sorrows." 

"Yes," replied the old lady, "but re- 
member your sorrows are relieved by 
hope, blessed hope^ whilst I had none." 

"And I have, too, the loving sympa- 
thy of a dear kinswoman to cheer me ; 
aunty, you forget that," said Agnes, as 
she wound her arm around her, and led 
the way to their bedroom. 



CHAFTSa II. 

In io4tcA (he scene changes. 

If I ■boold BMt thM, afUr iMif yean. 
How Bhoold I greet the*— with silence and tean ? 

Bteoh. 

It was a cold December afternoon, in 
the year 1784. The wind blew in fitful 
gusts from the south-east, throwing a 
cross sea into the anchorage of Spithead, 
outside the Isle of Wight A large ship, 
bound to the Downs, had been compelled, 
by the change of wind, to seek shelter at 
the mother- bank, which is opposite to the 
anchorage referred to. 

The passengers, who were numerous, 
had voyaged many thousands of miles, 
and were all anxious to land ; but the 
roughness of the sea, the drissling sleet, 
and the pitchy darkness, with which the 
evening appeared to be closing in, had, 
with one exception, persuaded them to 
await the following morning. 

The exception in question was a young 
gentleman of some seven or eight and 
twenty, but long exposure and hardship 
had somewhat aged him, giving him the 
appearance of a much older man. His 
figure was tall and well proportioned ; 



472 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



his features, naturally handsome, were 
not improved hy a scar extending from 
the right temple across his cheek, and 
the careful manner in which his rather 
profuse whiskers were trimmed to dis- 
guise it, showed that some remains of 
youthful dandyism were still there. 

Agreeing at once to the extortionate 
demands of a boatman, to land him at 
Portsmouth, he^ with a cordial farewell 
to his fellow passengers and the officers 
of the ship, descended into the boat, and 
enyeloping himself in an immense cloak 
bid defiance to the weather. It was yet 
early, and after a passage of less than 
two hours he found himself entering the 
Royal George, then the principal hotel in 
Portsmouth. 

A short time sufficed to change his ap- 
parel, and seated at a table near the fire, 
in the coffee-room, Colonel Beale enjoy- 
ed, for the first time for many a day, a 
quiet, luxurious, though solitary dinner, 
on English soil. 

Having finished, he drew himself near- 
er to the fire and, lighting his cigar, sank 
into a reverie. The voices of three gen- 
tlemen, at an adjoining table, did not the 
least disturb him, until he caught the 
sound of a name which at once attracted 
his attention. 

'* I wonder," said the eldest of the par- 
ty, " if this East Indian officer, so highly 
spoken of, is the same Beale with whom 
my brother was intimate in Madras, and 
whom he mentioned so often in his let- 
ters. He was wounded in Porto Novo, 
was aid-de-camp to Sir Eyre Coote at 
Yellore and Chittoor, and remained with 
him until he resigned the command to 
General Stuart, two years ago. "Sou see, 
Mr. Hartley, there wore two Beales ta- 
ken prisoners, about six months after 
that, together with General Matthews 
and others, by Tippoo Saib ; one of them 
escaped, and it is said that to informa- 
tion he gathered from the natives, and 
forwarded in a private letter to Sir Eyre, 



may be attributed the successful nego- 
tiations, and the masterly coup de mmn, 
which eventuated in the treaty of peace 
with that eastern tyrant.'' 

" I believe, sir," said Colonel Beale, 
turning towards the party, '* I can answer 
your question. The Beale who escaped 
was the same who had been aid-de-camp 
to Sir Eyre ; but you much overrate the 
slight service he rendered by bis infor- 
mation ; the credit is more fairly due to 
Sir Eyre Coote's and Warren Hasting's 
statesmanlike activity, which recovered 
the ground lost by the imbecile Madras 
authorities. The other Major Beale was 
assassinated with General Matthews in 
Tippoo's dungeons." 

" Your statement, sir, with regard to 
that gallant soldier's identity, may he 
correct," replied the other, " but it n 
y(m who wnderrate the services of Colonel 
Beale, for I have myself seen Sir Ejre 
Coote's dispatches, written but two daya 
before his lamented death, in fact the 
very day of his arrival at Madras. Might 
I ask, sir, your source of information ?" 

"Certainly, sir," answered the Colonel 
modestly, but firmly, "I have but just 
landed from the ' Tranquebar,' which 
arrived this afternoon from India. Sir 
Eyre Coote was ever generous, and this 
is but another proof of it. I am the of- 
ficer to whom he showed such constant 
kindness — I am the Colonel Beale yoa 
have so flatteringly referred to." 

" My dear sir," exclaimed the gentle* 
man, rising and holding out his band, 
" allow me to welcome you home. My 
brother, Lord Macdonald, of the High- 
lands, told me much of your early career 
in India. Tou saved his life, too, and in 
so daring a manner, during the time a 
desultory war was carried on by men 
totally unfit to be entrusted with com- 
mands, Monroe, Baillie, Lord Macartney, 
Stuart and Matthews. I am sure yon 
will look on me as a friend — a warm 
friend. I am sorry, as I swl for tiie East 



OUR SOCIAL CHAIR. 



473 



m jself in the morning, it is but little I 
can see of you ; but we must make the 
most of it Allow me to introdace you 
to Mr. Hartley, my secretary, and to Dr. 
Ewart — they both accompany me.'' 

It waa impossible to resist the cordi- 
ality of Mr. Macdonald, and Col. Beale 
cuuld not but be cheered at such'a recep- 
tion on the night of his arrival. They 
were soon on the most friendly terms, 
and discussing the affairs of Indian con- 
quest, at that time a subject of ail-en- 
greasing interest. Mr. Hartley, he dis- 
covered, was a younger brother of Capt. 
Hartley, and the latter, he learned, was 
with his regiment at Quebec, being the 
Migor in command. 

The next morning, at nine o'clock, a 
poet chaise was waiting for Colonel Beale 
to convey him to the metropolis, which 
he preferred to a public conyeyance, as 
he desired to commune with his own 
thoughts. His portmanteau was placed 
on the landing and a porter was on the 
point of carrying it down, when a door 
opened and a tall, pale, elderly lady, 
crossed the hall. Her eyes rested a mo- 
ment on the portmanteau, in passing, 
and she obserred the name painted upon 
it, * Lt. Colonel Beale.' 

** Who b the gentleman to whom this 
beloDgs?" said she, addressing the porter. 

" Maam, it is a gentleman as oame 
here last night from Uinda. Waiter says 
he heard him say to some other gents, 
last night in the coffee-room, that he was 
* Soiog to London with dispatches. May 
be, maam, you may know him." 

*' Here, show me into a private room, 
if you have one vacant — quick ; give him 



this card, and say I wish particularly to 
see him for a moment, before he goes." 

Almost immediately. Colonel Beale en- 
tered the room. He was evidently an- 
noyed at the delay, but bowed courteously. 

" Pardon me, for detaining you, sir, on 
the eve of your departure, but a gentle- 
man of your name — but who then bore 
an additional one — ^professed to be attach- 
ed to a very dear young friend of mine, 
whom I saw very recently. May I ask 
if you have any interest in any young 
lady in America, or knew any there, six 
years ago 7" 

"Agnes, oh I was it Agnes — ^my own 
Agnes ? My dear madam, it is a whole 
year since I heard of her ; when did you 
see her — tell me, oh» tell me all about 
her," and the Colonel grasped both her 
hands, and peered so closely into her 
face that even the old lady objected to 
such keen scrutiny of her somewhat 
faded features — ^forall women, even to 
the last, retain a little of the leaven of 
vanity. So, gently pushing him into a 
chair, she replied : 

" Now be calm, and don't kiss me, sir. 
Agnes Emerson is in England ; she is 
well ; she is true to you, and has never 
doubted you — which is more than / can 
say. Now, don*t get exciied-r-^he is in 
this Junue ; we only came on shore this 
morning. Shall I go and prepare her to 
see you, for she is not strong 7" 

" €U>, oh I yes go, and bring her quick- 
ly," cried Harrison, for it was none other 
than he. 

•• No, I will come for you— wait here." 

In a few moments, which seemed hours 
to Georij^, Miss Nisbet returned, and 
teking his hand led him to another room. 

In an instant, Agnes was in his arms. 

[7b »• owffsMif,] 



f^ 



(Snr Sntnl C^air. 



&S MAKT Cslifornians are more or 
less excited, nowsdnys, concerning 
the silver mines of Washoe, and in- 
dolge la tuadfy day-dreamings of wealth, 



in store for them, should they ever have 
the good fortune to reach that promised 
land ; and, as we think that ninety-nine 
oat of every hundred who go there will 



474 



HUTCHINGS' GAUFORNLL MAGAZINE. 



feel disappointed, and conseqaentlj find 
the time hang heavil}' on their hands, we 
will relate the following incident which 
fell nnder the obseryation of this Social 
Chair, at Reece's Store — ^now the flourish- 
ing little settlement of Genoa — in 1863, 
the relation of which may serve to while 
away a few dull moments. 

A large, heavy, thick-set woman, with a 
neck like that of a miniatnre ox, had been 
arrested, and was then under trial, before 
the *' Justice," on the charge of horse 
stealing I The trial proceeded rather in- 
formally, it is true, (as the prisoner fre- 
quently interrupted the proceedings by 
some ill-timed remarks), andafter the jury 
had retired and remained out for a couple 
of hours, they informed the '* court" that 
they could not agree. This announcement 
took the court and all the outsiders by sur- 
prise, and a second jury was impannelled, 
with the same result; and a third, with no 
better success, when the " Judge" rose and 
made the following remarks: 

Gentlemen : I berlieves Tm yer to see 
that justice is dun ; and my piny on is that 
all things yer are not going pon the squar. 
Now I should like to know if that ere aint 
your pinyon. I berlieves that that ere ju- 
ry what has jes repw^rted has not acted 
out their convicsbuns : I do. Kow I /pur- 
poses that a jury of three onprejudiced men 
should be chosen to try this yer case ; and 
ef thar be strangers ernuf in the country 
to set upon thaty«ry, three strangers shall 
be choosen on purpose to try this yer case 
by arbitration. What do you all say?" 

"Tes, yes," was shouted from an over- 
whelming majority; and,«ceordingly, three 
strangers were chosen, this Ohair among 
the number. 

After all the evidence had been adduced 
and the *' charge " given, we retired, and 
in five minutes — we mention it with some 
compunctions of conscience, on the score 
of gallantry — a verdict of ffuilty J was re- 
tamed. 

Now arose a new difiicnlty to the ^ 'Judge," 
for, as there was no jail, they couldn't im- 
prison her ; and, if there had been, not 



half a dozen men there would have con- 
sented to her being immured within it ; 
they could not whip her (as some suggest- 
ed), '^ because of the disgrace of the thing;" 
they could not take the money away from 
her that she had received from the sale 
of the horse, as that had been spent ; they 
could not sell her effects, as she had none ; 
and as they could not send her to Salt Lake 
City, *' on account of the trouble and ex- 
pense of the thing," or otherwise dispose 
of the case, they cautioned, then threat- 
ened her, and " let her go 1" 



Ir the following is not considered aaf- 
ficiently lucid, as well as valuable, we have 
no hope of the reader being more interest- 
ed in extending his own researches to oth- 
er relatives or branches of the human fam- 
ily :^ 

Commenting on the Millennial theory of 
Mr. Labaugh, in his work on '' Unfulfilled 
Prophecy," that the inhabitants of the new 
earth are not to be sick, to live generally 
900 years, and to increase accordingly — a 
writer in the Chrietian InteUigencet states 
that at the end of 1,000 years, the Jews 
alone would number "more than 1,024,- 
000,000,000,000)000,000,000,000,000, which 
would be more than 3,410,000,000,000,000,- 
000,000 on each square mile of the earth's 
surfafCe, or 5,000,000,000,000,000,000 on 
each acre, and more than 1,000,000,000,- 
000,000 on each square yard 1" 

We think that the anthor of the above 
theory is entitled to an asphaltum medal, 
as large as a dinner plate ; and that -his 
eldest son should have the honor of pos- 
sessing a christian name corresponding in 
length, and the number of letters in it, to 
the above figures, and we would suggest 
the following by way of commencement : 
Druimtighmillechattamgonarianshusecom- 
ariacredentia Mulysacitanuleh trofetadidn- 
acreporpdnatifycehporpdelliflufnunoyroeh- 
tahcusforohtuaeht. The latter name, if 
spelled out, and divided properly, back- 
wards, will give our opinion (which is val- 
uable on such subjects I) of the matter. 

CoBaBGTiON. — For ''amalgamating with 
Her Majesty," on first page, read '' amalga- 
mating with hot mercury." — Sierra Dem, 



OUR SOCIAL CHAIR. 



«75 



A friend in the eastern States sends ns 
the follow! og: 

Sqaire , of onr town, is blessed 

with a remarkable long nose, and, being a 
num of great humor, it is often a source 
of mach merriment between him and his 
friends. Last winter he was chosen our 
repreaentatiTe to Congress, and one dajr at 
the dinner table, at his hotel, a fellow-mem- 
ber, who sat opposite him, in order to call 
forth some wit from onr representative, 
said to him, "Jim, look I there's a fly on 
jonr nose I*' 

<*fs there?" said Jim. <<Then brush it 
olT; yon are twice as near to it as I am." 

On another occasion, as he was groping 
and trying to find his way in the dark, 
through one of the halls of the capitol, 
his nose suddenly came in contact with a 
huge stone pillar, "Dang it V* said he "who 
eTer before heard of a man's nose being 
longer than his arms !" 

He is the same eccentric genius who 
sometimes introduces himself into compa- 
ny, a«, "Hr. Nose, gentlemen 1 Jim will 
ioon be here — he is but a few steps be- 
hind T' 



A correspondent Tonches for the truth 
of the following : 

Old Peter and bis wife, of this town, 

are socb inveterate drunkards that he buys 
whiskey by the barrel, and it may be seen, 
any time^ standing In one corner of the 
the kitchen, for old Peter says, " I lore to 
hare things handy." 

One day, last fall, he had a new barrel 
of whisky rolled home, and placed in the 
old comer ; and, in order to save time, old 
Peter bad hoik ends of it tapped-— one for 
himaell^ and one for his wife. 



Davixl Wibstir was sometimes witty, as 
well as eloquent. Standing on the steps 
of the Capitol, one day, in company with 
a distinguished Southerner, a drove of 
mules passed along, when the southern 
gentleman langhingly said to Webster, 
'* There goes some of yoar constituents, 
Webster." " Yes," said the latter quickly, 
** they are going south to teach school." 



Thb following "Aboriginal Romance " as 
related by the North San Juan Press, is 
well worthy of " a new relation" in our so* 
cial chair. 

The Derickson Brothers, at Freeman's 
Grossing, have living with them an Indian 
youth, indigenous to that vicinity, whose 
" white name "is Tom. He has been with 
them several years, is now eighteen years 
old, large, fat, broad-faced, well clad, semi- 
civilized, intelligent and useful, but decid- 
edly averse to acquiring a knowledge of 
letters. He is gentle and obliging, yet ex- 
ceedingly sensitive and independent, and 
not to be coaxed or driven to anything he 
dislikes. While strongly attached to his 
white friendsjwho have always been very 
kind to him, he retains a clinging affection 
for his race, and frequently makes brief 
visits to an adjoining " campoody." 

iTot long ago, Tom felt moving within 
him that power which, according to Coler- 
idge, doth move the court, the camp, the 
grove. He felt attracted towards a dusky 
damsel of the pine woods, whose soft dark 
eyes— to say nothing of her low brow and 
stiff, black hair lying straight across it— - 
had often bewitched his gaze ; and , like 
Dr. Kane's faithful Esquimaux, Hans, he 
started off without warning to seek his 
affinity. It is presumed that she was soon 
wooed and won, and that the wedding cer- 
emony was performed in the cathedral of 
the grand old woods, by the same priest 
who officiated in a similar capacity at the 
junction of the Eaphratesand Tigris, some 
six thousand years ago. Tom being no 
Oviedo, and Mrs. Tom decidedly no Miss 
Bartlett, the attendance was small, eonfin* 
ed to a few lords of the Manor and their 
dames. Not having to furnish a homestead, 
nor purchase a costly bridal outfit, nor buy 
even a single hooped skirt, the happy couple 
were able to begin house-keeping immedi- 
ately, and receive the congratulations of 
their friends. An umbrageous oak formed 
at once their parlor, bed-chamber, kitchen 
and larder, where they could live in the 
satae style of elegant simplicity which was 
in vogue — " When Adam delved and Eve 
span", and which some wise philosophen 
long to see again adopted. 

But all that's bright must fade, as we 
need no poet come from Parnassus to tell 
us ; and Tom's connubial bliss shared the 
common fate. Whether the lady he had 
chosen from all the world beside proved 
false and fickle, or her lord himself— like 
all his sex, " inconstant still and prone to 
change " — wearied of her unadorned 
charms, perhaps will never be known. 
Suffice it, that " love's young dream" lasted 



476 



HUTOHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



but a few weeks for Tom, and he yearned 
again for the flesh pots of Freeman's 
Crossing. Acorns and grasshoppers are 
not the food of love, whatever music maj 
be ; for Tom's affection died and his flesh 
g^rew thin on such *'proyender" ; while his 
garments owing to antiquity and his wife's 
shameful ignorance of sewing or inability 
to keep a Grover k Baker, became ragged 
and wofully scant of the requirements of 
civilized prejudice. His physical health 
suffered, likewise, and his eyes, that once 
'^ looked love to eyes that looked again," 
were afflicted with agrevious'soreness. In 
this sorry plight — a warning to all who 
"love not wisely, but too well"— he was at 
last found by bis white protectors and in- 
duced, in spite of his pride, to return to 
their home. There he lives now, a fatter 
and a wiser youth, divorced without legal 
process, and nowise inclined to sigh for 
" a tent in the wild wood, a home in the 
grove." In fact, the least allusion to his 
dream of love offends and annoys him. 

To which let us append the following, 
which, though somewhat profane towards 
the fair one, has, like its author, con- 
siderable of the humorous in its composi- 
tion ; and will, moreover, tell its own sto- 
ry, and leave the reader to make "a moral" 
to suit : 

THE BLUB RIBBON. 

BT 010. r. NOURSI. 

'Twas common, quite common, and dtriy 
I swear — ^a little blue string, neither costly 
nor rare ; but 'twas from a tress of her 
own golden hair, and I vowed that, with 
the most tenderly care, Fd cherish the faded 
and crumpled affair, and next to my heart 
it I ever would wear. So I treasured the 
gift — the greasy blue string — ^as tho' 'twere 
the rarest and costliest thing a fortune of 
gold or of diamonds could bring ; for I 
worshiped the maid and promised the ring, 
when winter should break into bright open 
spring — the hill-sides should blossom, and 
meadow birds sing. When parting, she 
clung to me lovingly nigh ; leaned her 
head on my breast, with tears in her eye, 
and sobbed from her heart a mbst terrible 
sigh, saying, " If you leave me I surely 
shall die ;" then I swore, by the moon in 
the heavens so high, I'd be true as the star 
on Bethlehem's sky 1 And she — what of 



her, did you modestly say ? 0, nothing— 
only, one fine, pleasant day, she married a 
gentleman — rich, so they say — I wish he 
was buried six feet beneath clay ! and she, 
the false jade, by his frozen side lay— 
bound down with '* blue ribbons," and tied 
there to stay, till called by the horn on the 
great Judgment Day. 

*•» 

Bonnris. 
OuB spring importations, both those of 
New York and Paris, are somewhat pecu- 
liar and varied in shape ; indeed, no two 
that we have as yet seen have the same 
" contour," yet each claiming to be the 
true Pattern Bonnet. In one or two par- 
ticulars, only, do they correspond, viz. : 
very larg^ sized tips, and large brime, pro- 
jecting over the forehead, and greatly curr- 
ed at the sides. We do not wish to be un- 
derstood as accepting these as reliable 
" pattern bonnets" ; indeed, we know they 
cannot be, as the New York openings bad 
not taken place prior to the sailing of the 
last steamer. We will, therefore advise 
our readers to defer their purchases for three 
or four weeks ; as it is our province, how- 
ever to advise you of whatever ia neweik, 
we will describe a few of the bonnets we 
have seen, claiming to be *' models." The 
prettiest was a white shirred glac6e tilk, 
trimmed with a scarf of t611e, hemmed all 
round and having a surrounding of rich 
blonde lace, a finger wide ; this scarf is j 
placed on the left side of the brim and 
crosses to the right side, inclining gradual- 
ly towards the crown, and attached to the 
cape. There is a boquet of roses and eg- | 
lantine placed high on the lefl side, and a 
fall of the blonde fulled around the left 
side of the crown, falling over the cape j 
and connecting the boquet with the scarf I 
on the cape at the right side, where it is 
finished by another but smaller cluster of 
flowers. The face trimming is a full t^lle 
cap, without flower or ornament of anj 
kind, intended for those who wear the 
fashionable broad braid in their hair. 



OUR SOCIAL CHAIR. 



477 



Another is green crape, plain, over a rice 
frame, with while tulle, puffed on the brim 
and cape, divided into small puffs bj neat 
white satin piping cord, placed crosswise ; 
a wreath of white and pink roses, with 
larf^e crape leaves, ornament the sides, and 
across the crown ; a barb of black lace 
falls from either side. Face trimming of 
ftiU tabs of illasion, and a wreath of small 
pink roses across the top ; wide pink rib- 
bon strings, pearl edged. 

Another, intended for a walking bonnet, 
ia of checked Manilla, made over a rice 
frmme, and trimmed in blue feathers, with 
a wide fall of chanUUj lace encircling the 
front and hanging loosely at the sides. In- 
side, a full blonde Uali and velvet flowers, 
and wide blue silk strings, edged with 
black blonde. 

Straw and silk bonnets have to be lined 
this season, as the ruch6 can not be brought 
to the edge, as formerly, owing to the in- 
creaaed size of the bonnet. 

We have occupied the space allotted us 
to bonnets alone; next month we have 
•omethiag to say in regard to dresses. 



9^b'8 S^oib of Contni Cbniis. 

Upwards of one hundred and fifly men, 
women, and children, were indiscriminate- 
ly massacred at Indian Island, South Beach, 
Uiigle Prairie, the Slide, and other ranche- 
rias on Eel river, Humboldt county, by an 
anknown party of whites. 

A vein of Copper ore was discovered 
near Crescent City which yields from 25 
to 33 per cent of pure copper. 

The steamers Qolden Age and Champion 
tailed on the 20th of February the former 
with 305 passengers and f 1,260,629 in trea- 
sure; and the latter with 324 passengers, the 
U. 8. Mails, and $209,605 in treasure. 

A daily mail has been established be- 
twc«a Oakland, Alamo, and Martinez, Con- 
tra Costa County. 

A Joint Committee of both houses of the 
Legislature was appointed to examine and 
report the advantages and disadvantages 
of Saa Francisco and Oakland for the per- 
Biaaent location of the State Capitol. 

Tho will of the late Senator Broderick 
was filed on the 20th of February. John 



A. McQlynn and George Wilkes sole lega- 
tees. 

The Pacific Mail Steamship Co's steamer 
John L. Stephens arrived Feb. 29th, with 
693 passengers. 

The Cortes, (Vanderbilt Co ) steamer ar- 
rived on the 3d ult. with 627 passengers 
and the U. S. Mails. 

Several exceedingly rich quartz leads 
have been discovered near Jacksonville, 
Rogue River Valley, O. T. 

Long Wharf, once the principal business 
street of this city, afler being almost dis- 
used for several years, is again being re- 
paired and newly planked. 

A. Gray Morgan has been appointed 
Commissioner of Immigrants. 

During the month of February 68,030 
letters were sent overland to St. Louis, and 
38,684 were received here. 

The Golden Gate sailed on the 6th ult. 
with 360 passengers and $924,000 in treas- 
ure. The Cortez with 242 passengers and 
$145,847 in treasure, and the U. S. Mails. 
The total shipment of treasure being only 
$1,069,847 — the smallest shipment of mon- 
ey for eight years — that of Feb. 1852 being 
a fraction less than by last steamers. 

Another party of convicts, nine in num- 
ber, made their escape from the State Pri- 
son at San Qnentin, on the 3d ult 

Roads are in process of construction 
from most of the principal mining towns of 
this state, and relays of animals placed 
thereon for passengers' conveyance, to the 
Washoe mines. 

At the election of officers of the San 
Francisco Mercantile Library Association, 
on the 6th ult, for the ensuing year, 1,335 
votes were polled, which resulted as fol- 
lows: — For President, Wm. H. Stevens; 
Vice President, Wm. R. Garrison ; Treas- 
urer, J. G. Kellogg ; Corresponding Secre- 
tary, R. B. Swain; Recording Secretary, 
Bdward Hunt; Directors, Ghas. W. Brooks, 
Frank Baker, S. P. Belknap, Wm. Norris, 
J. W. J. Pierson, John 8haw, H. C. Macy, 
Chas. R. Bond, Thomas Bennett 

That of the Mechanics* Institute, were as 
follows: — President, Thomas Tennent; 
Vice President, J. W. Cherry ; Correspond- 
ing Secretary, Wm. F. Herrick ; Recording 
Secretary, P. B. Dexter; Treasurer, John 
E. Kincaid ; Directors, Gardner Elliot, Ben- 
jamin Dore, Paul Torqnet, Henry L. King, 
J. P. Buckley, James A. Sperry, A. H. 
Houston. 

An extensive newspaper correspondence, 
diicussing the merits and demerits of a pa- 



478 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



per currency, has been carried on with 
great vigor during the month. 

A pack of Indians recently carried 125 
pounds each on their backs, from Fetalu- 
ma, Sonoma county, to long Valley, Men- 
docino county, a distance of 140 miles, and 
acccomplished the task within six days. 

A new paper entitled the Weekly Dis- 
patch, has been issued at Lancha Plana, 
Amador county. 

A large vein of marble, almost equal to 
the best Italian, the Northern Journal says 
has been discovered fifteen miles from 
Yreka. 

The receipts of the Sacramento Valley 
Railroad were, for the last fifteen months 
$270,293,50 — out of which the nett profits 
were $119,2*70,59. 

The Hebrews of California have sub- 
scribed $4,738, in aid of their suffering 
brethren in Morocco. 

The miners of La Porte, Sierra county, 
have struck for a reduction in the price 
of water. 

Wells, Fargo k Co. established a semi- 
weekly express to Washoe Valley. 

A petrified yellow jacket was taken out 
of a shaft at San Andreas, over 100 feet 
below the surface of the earth. 

A new town named Chico, has been laid 
out at BldwelPs Ranch. A post office has 
for several years been established here. 

The Shasta Courier entered upon its 
ninth year of publication on the 10th ult. 

The Tehama Flouring Mills were con- 
sumed by fire on the 9th ult. Loss $100,000* 

The fare by the steamer of the 20th ult. 
was first cabin, $200 ; second cabin, $140 ; 
steerage, $90. An advance of about fifty 
per cent, on recent rates; on account, 



doubtless of the amalgamation of the two 
companies, and the withdrawal of the Un- 
cle Sam. The P. M. S. S. Co. plying on 
the Pacific side, and the Vanderbilt line 
on the Atlantic. 

For the twenly-four hours ending 6, P. 
M. of the 16th ult., only one arrest wm 
made by the police in the city and countf 
of San Francisco, and that was for ine- 
briety. 

About twenty-two minntei past eleven 
o'clock, on the morning of the 15U] ult, 
three distinct shocks of an earthquake 
were felt in Sacramento city and other 
places. 

The new Catholic Cathedral of St. Fran- 
cis, on Vallejo Street, San Francisco, wss 
dedicated on the 17th ult., (St. Patrick's 
day). 

On the 17th ult., a Japanese ateam Cor- 
vette of ten guns and 292 tons register, 
named the Candinmarro, arrived here in 
forty days from Jeddo, Japan. This is the 
first Japanese steamer known to have en- 
tered this port, and was dispatched bj the 
Government of Japan, in honor of the 
President of the United States, to annoonce 
the great officers of State who will repre- 
sent that Government at Washington. The 
officers and crew of the U. S. Surveying 
schooner Fenimore Cooper, (sent there by 
the U. S, Gk>vernment) returned in the 
Candinmarro. 

On the morning of the I7th, an effigy of 
St. Patrick was found suspended to the 
liberty pole on the Plaza, San Francisco, 
and as the halyards could not be reached, 
in order to remove the effigy the pole wm 
cut down by some incensed Irishmen. 

The San Francisco Daily National was 
merged into the San Francisco Herald on 
the 20th ult 



• mm^ 



(SHtor's Cabh. 



THEHE can be no possibility of mis- 
understanding the tendencies of the 
public mind at this juncture, con- 
cerning the discoveries of silver on the 
eastern side of the Sierras. Excitement is 
rapidly reaching its climax. The indis- 
criminate swell of the tide of population 
towards Fraser river gives out a new con- 
centric wave towards Washoe. Every 
steamboat, stage and pack or saddle train, 



on every conceivable trail has passengers 
for Washoe. In every city, town and vil- 
lage, there are ** Washoe blankets," **Was- 
hoe clothing, boots and shoes," "pro- 
visions and stores put up for Washoe; 
" Washoe corn and bunion salve," '* Wsa- 
hoe pistols, knives and shot guns," " Was- 
hoe maps," Guides to the silver mines of 
Washoe, &c., &c." Ad Infinitum, 
Persons who do not get excited about 



EDITOR'S TABLE. 



479 



tli« immenae fortunes (at least in prospect) 
a4 Washoe, are looked upon as behind the 
age, and foolishly allowing a g^od oppor- 
tunity to pass for becoming suddenly rich. 
Within three months from this time we 
opine a different story and a new set of sen- 
timents will be spoken from the same lips. 

That there is silver, aye silyer, in greater 
abnndance than has ever before been dis- 
covered in a single vein in any part of the 
world, we are willing to concede to the 
Comstock lead, for its richness is almost 
CabnloQS ; and farther, we aro willing to 
consent to the fhct that others of great 
richness will also be discoyered ; yet, there 
is also another fact forcibly patent to our 
minds which is this: to the laborer who goes 
tfaero with his strong arm and willing 
hands as his only prospecting capital, those 
mines will be comparatively a sealed book; 
and exposure, suffering, fatigue, and disap- 
pointment will write their severe characters 
in sweat and dust and lines of care upon 
his brow. 

Speculators and monied capitalists will 
make->«nd lose — fortunes, no doubt. A 
few persons will find good paying mines, 
bat the many will not. 

One feature of this excitement gives us 
pain. Many persons of limited means, and 
•onM with fiunilies dependent upon them, 
in their haste to raise money, to start for 
the new El Dorado, are selling out their 
snog little homesteads at a great sacrifice, 
and soon their families will be homeless 
and onsheltered. Such we would entreat 
to pause before they commit so great an 
act of recklessness. Were the chances of 
their improving the condition of themselves 
and fkmilies more numerous and certain, 
we would have nothing to say. 

Those persons who are ''waiting for 
soflBOthing to turn up," might perhaps be 
conferring a &vor upon themselves and the 
pablic, by emigrating to Washoe, and in* 
staad of " waiting," go to work at tuning 
something up. Others who are out of em- 
ploy, might also do well to go, but we hope 
tb*t few persons will throw away a certain- 
ty lor an uncertainty, by leaving good 



diggings m hopu of finding better ; as it is 
a hard task to climb a second time to for- 
tune* 

Foa the past three years a large pano- 
ramic painting of California has been in 
progress, that will show what this State, 
at the present time, really is — ^the progress 
she has made, her natural wonders and 
resources, and her great works of in- 
dustrial art, which have made the veij 
name of California a synonym for energy 
and enterprise the world over. This work 
portrays, in accurate drawing and truthful 
color, the grandeur of our noble mountains, 
aud the beauty of our fruitful, flower-deck- 
ed plains; the vivid brightness of our 
noonday skies ; the gorgeous glow of our 
sunsets, and the witchery of our moonlit 
nights; our cities and towns, and our 
mining and agricultural pursuits. In short, 
it is a miniature portrait of the whole 
State. We allude to Tirrell k Co.'s Pano- 
rama of California. Let us endeavor to 
describe this mammoth work of art. Hav- 
ing been allowed the run of the studio, 
while the work was in progress, we can 
speak by the card. 

The preliminary sketching tour was com- 
menced in July, 1857, and occupied over 
eighteen months ; during which time Mr. 
Tirrell (who performed this labor, as well 
as the painting, entirely unassisted) trav- 
eled over the entire State, and brought 
back six large portfolios *' stuffed full of 
sketches," as he expresses it, as the result 
of his tramp. It is, indeed, a treat to look 
over those drawings, as eveiy one of them 
bears the marks of a patient, loving study 
of nature ; and if these travel-worn port- 
folios could speak, they would tell of ma- 
ny a long day's labor in the wild moun- 
tains, and beneath the burning sun in the 
foot-hills and plains of California. 

The sketches having been obtained, the 
painting of the Panorama was commenced. 
Slowly the canvas began to ** grow," as 
each day's faithful labor was fixed upon it; 
and continued thus to grow for over fifteen 
months, until attaining its complete stat- 



480 



HUTCniNGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



ore. And what a giant it is ! It is eleven 
feet in height and two thousand three hun- 
dred feet in length ,* consequently contains 
twentj-five thousand three hundred square 
feet of canvas, on four huge cylinderSi and 
not a foot of it that does not represent 
some characteristic of California. Nearly 
fifty cities and town are truthfully repre- 
sented. San Francisco covers eighty feet 
in length ; and not only is the whole city 
shown, but all the surrounding country ; 
the Bay, the Golden Gate, and everything 
that can be seen from Telegraph Hill, in 
the complete circle of the horizon. 

All the agricultural valleys ; the Sacra- 
mento river, from its mouth to Sacramento 
city ; every kind and description of min- 
ing, each represented by actual views of 
different claims. The natural wonders of 
the State ; the Geysers, Mount Shasta, three 
scenes in the Big Tree Groves, and seven 
in the Yo- Semite Valley. An Indian "cryj" 
an Indian Fandango ,* all the varieties of 
forest trees and wild flowers. Ditches and 
flumes ; steamboats, big wagons and stage 
coaches. Sunlight, moonlight, and fire- 
light; rain, snow, and dust; everything, 
in short, that a traveler would wish to see 
in a six months' journey over the State, 
are typified in this Panorama. 

The diffierent views are enlivened by up- 
wards of three thousand figures. There 
are nearly one hundred large scenes in all, 
besides scenes of " little bits " of foliage, 
rocks, trees, and incidents, introduced be- 
tween them to keep them apart. The 
painting is no mere '* daub," as the artistic 
execution is excellent. Dozens of the 
views are worthy of being cut out and 
framed. Among the best, (selecting at 
hap-hazard), are a sunset scene effect at 
Nevada ; an effect of rain at a sluicing 



be both delighted and initructed, they will 
also be patronizing a deserving home- 
made work, and which, should the artist 
think proper to transport it to the east, to 
show what California really is to *' the old 
folks at home," will do the State much laud- 
able and praiseworthy service. 

Steamship opposition is again at an end 
between the Pacific Mail Steamship Com- 
pany, and the Tanderbilt line; the two 
companies having united their interests; 
the former to run on the Pacific between 
San Francisco and Panama, and the Utter 
on the Atlantic, between Aspiowall and 
New York and New Orleans. Past opposi- 
tion rates have been ruinously low, hut as 
these companies have made money oat of 
the traveling public by charging exorbit- 
ant rates of fare, the public have little or 
no 63'mpatby for them in such louses. 

The rates of fare for the steamer of the 
20th ult. were first cabin, $200; second 
cabin, $140 ; steerage, 90 ; and if they are 
permanently kept at this price we consider it 
a tolerably fair remunerative charge ; until 
greater facilities of travel have been pro- 
vided. 

There can be no hope for California until 
there is a good lailroad stretching its iron 
arms across the country, and the fare put 
at a reasonably low figure — for this let nt 
hope and unceasingly strive, until it is fol- 
ly accomplished. 

Co (tonlrilmtorB nxib ftorref{ronbntl0. 



scene near Jackson ; another of a moon- 
light at Stockton, and still another on the 
Sacramento river, with the steamboat 
Queen City lighted up, &c., &c. 

We hope ihat every lover of the beauti- 
ful, unique, and wonderful, will go and see 
this "counterfeit presentment" of our glo- 
rious State ; knowing that while they will 



L, — Many thanks to yon for your good 
wishes and approval. 

A. — Your P. V. is all descriptive introduc- 
tion, without sequence, characters, or 
plot, therefore can not very well be call- 
ed a ** story." 

iZ.— Bayard Taylor's " Travels in El Don- 
do " were published shortly after his re- 
turn to New York, from this country, 
late in the fall of 1849, or early in the 
spring of 1860. 

if., PUzeervUU. — By no means. Yon adhere 
to the old adage of '* Never quit a cer- 
tainty for an uncertainty." We do not 
mean that you should make no effort to 
improve your condition, but that yoo 
keep in mind Davy Crockett's advice, 
"Benire you are right," kQ, 

F.J Red Dog. — Your effort at 16 was ver; 
creditable; but, though fine in senti- 
ment, it is not sufficiently meritorious in 
execution to occupy a place in the Mag. 



mjTCHINGS' 

CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 

Vol.. IV. MAY, I860. JiTo. 11. 

TEE MAMMOTH TREES OF MARIPOSA AND FKEZNO. 



■ciNB IN TBI FKiEHo aiovi or ■ivnoth tuu. 



482 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



f: 



OR seyeral years after the discoy- 
ery of the Mammoth Trees of Cal- 
averas Coanty had astonished the 
world, that group of trees was supposed 
to be the only one of the kind in exist- 
ence. But, during the latter part of 
July, or the beginning of August, 1855, 
Mr. Hogg, a hunter in the employ of the 
South Fork Merced Canal Company, 
while in the pursuit of his calling, saw 
one or more trees, of the same variety 
and genus as those of Calaveras, growing 
on one of the tributaries of Big Creek, 
and related the fact to Mr. Galen Clark 
and other acquaintances. Late in Sep- 
tember or early in October ensuing, Mr. 
J. £. Clayton, civil engineer, residing in 
Mariposa, while running a line of survey 
for Col. J. C. Fremont, across some of 
the upper branches of the Frezno River, 
discovered other trees of the same class ; 
but, like Mr. Hogg, passed on without 
further examination and exploration. 

About the first of June, Mr. Milton 
Mann and Mr. Clark were conversing 
together on this subject, at Clark's Ranch 
on the South Fork of the Merced, when 
they mutually agreed to go out on a 
hunting excursion in the direction indi- 
cated by Mr. Hogg and Mr. Clayton, for 
the purpose of ascertaining definitely the 
locality, size and number of the trees 
mentioned. 

Well mounted, they left Clark's Ranch, 
and proceeded up the divide between the 
South Fork of the Merced and Big Creek, 
in a south- eastern course, with the inten- 
tion of making a circuit of several miles, 
if not at first successful ; this plan being 
the most suggestive of their re-discovery. 

When on the summit of the mountain, 
about four miles from Clark's, they saw 
the broad and towering tops of the mam- 
moth trees, since known as the "Maripo- 
sa Grove," and shortly afterwards were 
walking among their immense trunks. 
A partial examination revealed the fact, 
that a second grove of trees had been 



found, that was far more extensive than 
that of Calaveras, and many of the trees 
fully as large as those belonging to thai 
world-renowned group. 

Early the following spring, Mr. Clark 
discovered two smaller groves of large 
trees, of the same class and variety, each 
not exceeding a quarter of a mile in dis- 
tance from the other. 

About the end of July of the same 
year, he discovered another large grove 
upon the head waters of the Frezno; 
and two days afterwards, Mr. L. A. 
Holmes, of the Mariposa Gazette, and 
Judge Fitzhugh, while on a hunting ex- 
cursion, saw the tracks of Mr. Clark's 
mule as they passed the same group; and 
as both these parties were very thirstj 
at the time, and near the top of the 
ridge, at sun-down, without water for 
themselves and animals, they were anx- 
ious to find this luxury and a good camp- 
ing-place before dark. Consequentlj, 
they did not deem it best then to tarry 
to explore it ; intending to pay this grove 
a visit at some early time of leisure in 
the future. This interesting task, how- 
ever, seemed to be reserved for the writer 
and Mr. Clark, on the second and third 
days of July, 1859. 

With this short epitome of the discov- 
ery of these additional wonders, we shall 
now give a brief narrative of a visit paid 
to them last year, when on our return 
from the Yo-Semite Valley. 

Arriving at Clark's Ranch, (situated 
about half way between the Great Valley 
and Mariposa,) Mr. Galen. Clark, the 
proprietor of the ranch, very kindly of- 
fered not only to guide us through the 
Mariposa Grove of mammoth trees, but 
also to conduct us to the Frezno Grove ; 
observing that, although the latter had 
been discovered by himself the previous 
year, it had not as yet been examined or 
explored by any one. Of course, as the 
reader may guess, this offer was too gen- 
erous, and too much in accordance with 



THE MAHUOTU TREES OF MARIPOSA AND FREZNO. 



" THl TWINS," IN 1 

oar wishea, to be declined. Our prepar- 
■tioot completed, nod wbeo about (o 
mouDt into the laddle, we both atood 
iruting. "Are jou readjT" uked our 
ptide. " Quite," iru the prompt r^oin- 
der ; " but baveu't you forgotten jour 
hu. Mr. Clark I" " Oh, no," he replied, 
" I never have been able to wear a hat 
aince I had the fever, aome yeara ago, 
and I like to go without now better than 
I did then to wear one." So much for 
habit I 

With our fire-anna acroaa onr ahoal- 
dera, and our btanketa and a couple of 
daya' proTiaiona at the back of our sad- 
dlea, we proceeded fur a abort diatance 
through the thick, heary grasa of the 
raiiL'h, aod commenced the jp^dual aa- 
eent of s well timbered aide-hill, on the 
edge of the Tallej, and up and over on- 
merona low ridgea, all of which were 
more or icia covered with wild flowere, 
DQ our way to Uie Haripoaa Qrove. Al- 
though the trail waa well worn and good, 
yet, on account of the long ascent to the 
Himtnit of the ridge, it waa with do amall 
pleaaur« that we funnd ourseUea in the 
Tianity of the grove. 

Who can picture, in language, or On 



lOttiAtd/nm natari, tf Q. Tiun.] 

canvaa, all the sublime deptba of won- 
der that flow to the eoul in thrilling and 
iotenae aurpriae, when the eye looks up> 
on theae great marvelaT Long viataa of 
foreat ahadea, formed by iromenae tmnka 
of trees, extending hither and thither ; 
now arched by the o verb an gin g brsnchea 
of the lofty taiodiuma, then by the 
drooping bougha of the white-blosaomed 
dogwood ; while the high moaning aweep 
of the pines, and the low wbiapering 
awell of the fira, aung awe-inapiring an- 
thems to their great Planter. 

The Indiana, in years that are past, 
have, with Vandal haads, set portions of 
this magnificent foreat on fire ; so that 
burnt stumps of trees aod blackened un- 
derbrush frown upon you from several 
points. The trunk uf one prostrate tree, 
when first measured, was found to be 
thirty-twu feet in dismeter, without iis 
bark ; and by evidences then existing, it 
was estimated to have been about four 
hundred aod thirty feet in altitude, and 
nearly one hundred and twenty feet in 
circumference, when standing. Now, 
but a amall portion of it remains, and 
even that is charred and burned to auch 
a degree, that it ia aoarceiy recognisable 



HHTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



' Prince of Darkueas, in oompliment lo 
the poet and his hero we Duued it * Sa- 
tan's Spear.' Its circumrurenoe ta kt- 
eDty-«ight feet. 

" SeTeral rods to the left of this ia an- 
other large trunk, with BidiUpidated top, 
preaeDting the appe&rance of » toner, 
and ia called ' The Oiuit's Tower"; aei- 
entj feet in circumference. Beyond thU 
stand two doable trees, which have been 
named ' The Twin Sisters.' Still further 
on is a tree with a straight and alender 
body, and a profuaion of beautiful foli- 
age ; near which frowned a savage look- 
ing monster, with a scarred and knotted 
trunk, and gnarled and broken branch- 
es, briugiug to one's recollectiOD the sto- 
ry of 'Beauty and the Beaat.' Crossing 
the ravine near ' Satan'a Spear,' there 
are many fine treea upon tiie ude and 
Bummit of the ridge. One of the finest, 
whose circumference ia sixty feet, and 
whose top consists of a masa of foliage 
of exceeding beauty, is called ' The 
Queen of the ForeaL' Above these 
stands ' The ArUst's Encampment,' ser- 
enty-seven feet in circa mfereoce, though 
10 large a portion of ita trunk has de- 
rayed or been burned away to a height 
of thirty feet, as materially to lessen ita 
dimenaions." 

This grove of mammoth trees connsls 
of six hundred, more or less, about on* 
fourth of which were measured by Col. 
Warren, of the California farmer, and 
Mr. O. Clark, in 1857, and their circum- 
ference is given on page 396, Vol. 111., 
af this Magatine ; but their altitude has 
not yet been aecertaiued. It mu«t not 
be Buppoaed tbiit these large taiodiuma 
monopolize the one mile by a quarter of 
a mile of ground over which they art 
scattered ; as some of the talleat, largest 
and moat graceful of sugar pines and 
Douglaa firs we ever aaw, add their beau- 
ty of form and foliage to the group, and 
eontribute much to the impoeing gran- 
deur of the effect. 



THE MAMMOTH TREKS OF MARIPOSA AND FREZNO. 



Crasaing » low ridge to Ui« sonth-weal- 
wud of the large grove, is uiother Fnull 
ODt, before alluded to, in whioh there 
ut muy fine treed. We meeaared ooe 
ttnrdj, gnarled old fellow, whioh, al- 
tboagh badlj burned, and the bark al. 
nuat gone, ao that a Urge portion of it« 
orifiaal site was lost, is nerertheles* still 
ninetj feet in oireumfeTence, and which 
we took the libertj of naming the "Grii- 
iled OianL" 

Ad iumenee trunk la; stretched upon 
the ground, that measiired 264 feet in 
length, altboDgh a considerable portion 
of Its crown has been burned away. This 
wunamed bjMrs. J. C. Fremont, "King 
Arthur, the Proetrate Monarob." . 

Leaving this, the ' South Qrove,' we 
iinck aeroes Big Creek and its branch- 
es, in a coanw almost due south, as neat 
*s the ragged, rock-bound mountain 
spars would permit, in the direction of 
tlie FreiDo group; some of whose ma- 
jestic and feather; tope could be seen 
from the ridge we had just left behind. 

Apparently these trees were not more 
than sis milea distant from the Maripo- 
sa Urote ; bat which, owing to the trail- 
leas eourae we had to take, down and 
•cross the spare of Big Creek, were not 
less than ten miles. About six o'clock, 
P. H., we arrived at the foot of some of 
the mammoth tree*, that stood on the 
ridge like sentinel guards to the grove. 
These ware from Sft; to sixty feet only 
ia circunference. 

As the sun was fast sinking, we deem- 
ed it the moet prudent course to look out 
for a good camping-ground. Fortunate- 
ly, we diseovered at first the only patch 
uf grass to be found fer several miles; 
and, aa we were making our way through 
ibe forest, feeling that most probably we 
Tere the first whites who had ever brok- 
en its profound solitudes, we heard a 
■plashing sound proceeding from the di- 
rection of the bright green we had seen. 
This, with the rustling of bushes, re- 



TBI aaiULBD OIANT. 

[Am Hlwv, by a. TuaiL.] 

minded us that we were invading the se- 
cluded home of the griuly bear, and 
that good sport or danger would snon 
give variety to onr employments. 



486 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



Hastily dismouDtiDg and aDsaddling 
our animals, we picketed them in the 
swampy grass plat, still wet with the re- 
cent spir tings of several bears' feet that 
had hurriedly left it; then kindling a 
fire, to indicate by its smoke the direction 
of our camp, we started quietly out on a 
bear hunt. 

Cautiously peering over a low ridge, 
but a few yards from camp, we saw two 
large bears slowly moving away, when a 
slight sound from us arrested their at- 
tention and progress. Mr. Clark was 
about raising his rifle to fire, when we 
whispered — " Hold, Mr. C, if you please 
— let us have the first shot at that im- 
mense fellow there." " With pleasure," 
was the prompt response, and, at a dis- 
tance of twenty-five yards, a heavy charge 
of pistol balls from an excellent shot-gun 
was poured into his body just behind the 
shoulder, when he made a plunge of a 
few feet, and, wheeling round, stood for 
a few moments as though debating in his 
own mind whether he should return the 
attack, or retreat; but a ball from the 
unerring rifle of our obliging guide de- 
termined him upon the latter coursel 
The other had preceded him. 

We immediately started in pursuit; 
and although their course could readily 
be followed by the blood dropping from 
their wounds, a dense mass of chapparal 
prevented us from getting sight of either 
again ; although we walked around upon 
the look-out until the darkness compelled 
us to return to camp, where, after sup- 
per, we were soon soundly sleeping. 

Early the next morning we followed 
up the divertisement, for a few hours ; 
but meeting with no game larger than a 
grouse, we commenced the exploration of 
the grove. 

This consists of about five hundred 
trees of the taxodium family, on about as 
many acres of dense forest land, gently 
undulating. The two largest we coiild 
find measured eighty-one feet each in 



circumference, well formed, and stnught 
from the ground to the top. The others, 
equally sound and straight, were from 
fifty-one feet to seventy-five feet in cir- 
cumference. The Sugar Pines (Pimu 
Lambertiana), were remarkably large; 
one that was prostrate near oar camp 
measured twenty-nine feet and six inches 
in circumference, and two hundred and 
thirty-seven feet in length. Fire has not 
desolated and deformed this, like the 
groves of Calaveras and Mariposa. 

It ought here to be remarked that Mr. 
L. A. Holmes and Judge Fitzhagh saw 
an extensive grove of much larger trees 
than these on the head waters of the San 
Joaquin River, about twelve miles east of 
those on the Frezno ; but, as they have 
never been explored, we are not able yet 
to describe them. 

All of these trees are precisely of the 
same genus and variety as those of Cala- 
veras, and will abundantly reward visit- 
ors to spend a day or two here, on their 
way to the Yo-Semite Valley. 

CALIFORNIA WILD FLOWERS. 



BY DR. A. KELLOGO. 



No. 1 of the above group is the beau- 
tiful Butterfly Tulip, or Calochorhu te- 
nusius. The spots on the petals of this 
flower invariably suggest to the most 
casual observer their similarity to those 
ocellate marks so common on the wings 
of butterflies ; hence the common name. 
This flower is often variously painted 
and spotted, but is always sufficiently 
characteristic to be readily recognised 
by a careful observance of the figure. 
An oblong cluster or bunch of loose hairs 
or beards may be noticed within, a little 
above the base of each petal. By cul- 
ture they become branched and many- 
flowered. They are among the most 
beautiful flowers of California ; furnish- 
ing the gayest of garden and yard plants, 
and are also great favorites for parlor 



CALIFORNIA WILD FLOWERS. 



boqiMti, on kooonnt of their luting 
baMitj, Saeh hAndaome balbi M theia, 
Teqatring m little labor, uid ■eareelj kd; 
can, oagbt to be caltiTated bj erarj true 
lorar of the beantiea of nature. 

Tbe balba maj be taken up after the 
learea wiUier, kept dry until aaother 
•eaaoD — L e., treated a« tulip* — and wt 
in borders in the ipring ; their iproutiaj; 
ID a oomoioD tenperatore will indiijate 
the proper time. Erea thia troable ii 
Deedleaa in onr climate. They thriTe 
wooderfnlly well in poto. Any one who 
would take the troable to oolleot onlj 
onr natiTe planta, would anrpriae and 
charm both himself and other*, by their 
beauty and variety. We have at leatt 
two yellow ipeoiee, a bright Bsry red 



one— probably new and andeeoribed— 
and a lilao, and a large pnrple apemee, 
which ia alao found in Oregon. There are 
one or two other eqniTOOalapeciee. There 
balba bloom in Hay and Jane, to Angatt, 
and even much later in some localities. 

No. 2 ia a ipeoiM of the Qam Weed 
— Madia Dutitifiora. The atem and nar- 
row leavea are hairy and gtandnlar, aa- 
peoially towarda the tope of the branohaa, 
where the little flower beada are almoet 
a oontinaoni maw of clammy glanda. 
Thia and a broader leafed apecie* ( JV. eo- 
liva) are considered great nniaauoee by 
tbe traveler in thia oonntry. One oare- 
lew sweep of the paotaloona over theee 
weeda ia quite sufficient to aet the isal of 
fllth, and from that time thenceforth, 



488 



QUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA ICAQAZINS. 



dirt I dirt 1 is fonnd on every side, and 
pretty effectually grained in, as our ex- 
perience proves. 

We may be able hereafter to refresh 
the reader's recollection in regard to sev- 
eral other species, vrhich vrould be more 
readily recognized if represented of the 
natural size. 

Now we decidedly protest against the 
abusive language so often denounced 
against these Gum Weeds. One of them 
(M, aaiiva) is cultivated in Chili for the 
seed, from which a valuable oil is extrac- 
ted. Our California canary bird is also 
very fond of the seed, as any one may 
see by their early eagerness to obtain 
them. But we prize this and several 
other kindred plants, chiefly for the fra- 
grant autumnal odor they exhale to the 
passing breeze. These ethereal odors in- 
duce a corresponding state of serenity 
and peaceful rapture, entrancing our soul 
by a magic spell, far away in the sweet 
elysian fields of fancy. Will the mere 
matter of fact reader pardon us, if we 
chance to believe this is not all a fancy f 
No, indeed, by no means. To us it is 
one of the most thrilling realities of life. 
Were we properly to attend to odors, a 
vast field of delightful science would 
open up before us ; but we can only al- 
lude to it now. (It would afford us pleas- 
ure to write you a philosophical essay on 
odors, t. e, our philosophy — not that we 
wish to provoke discussion with those 
who differ — the subject, we think, is not 
so much of argument as of feeling, ) Did 
you ever inspire any sweet odor, without 
at the same time inspiring some agreea- 
ble perception of the mind and heart, 
above the mere nasal sensation? It 
would be exceedingly interesting had we 
an exact history of the state of each af- 
fection awakened by certain odors. True, 
the ideal train would be somewhat varied 
with respect to the individual ; but like 
tones in music to the ear, or color in op- 
tics to the eye, they must fall into an or- 
derly arragement, or science^ upon some 



principle, in man. The French, it is con- 
fessed, are eminent in this knowledge 
and art. Surely a subject of such refined 
and elevated use, must subserve some 
great and wise end worthy of our notice. 

No. 3 is a pretty bulb, blooming in 
May and June ; the flowers are yellow, 
marked by green lines along the back of 
the center of the divisions of the border. 
This plant (Calliprora luiea) is very 
common in most parts of California, 
shooting its bright flowers out of black, 
cracky, prairie-like soils, harder than 
bricks. It is a plant of easy culture. 

No. 4 is an exceedingly delicate, imre, 
and showy species of the Monkey Flower 
[Mimuhis longipes). The two lobes of the 
upper lip are perfectly white, and the 
three lobes of the lower lip a bright, del- 
icate straw yellow ; the throat below pur- 
ple spotted ; the tube long and spotted 
on the under side; the plaited calyx cup 
also spotted; the flower stems as long, 
usually longer than the leaves; leaves 
narrow lanceolate. Found in damp, 
shady, rich soils, in the vicinity of Stock- 
ton, and probably elsewhere. 

No. 5 is an erratic form of the Ameri- 
can cowslip (DocUcaiJieon Meadia), The 
straight, trim, mun flower-stem, in favo- 
rable localities, grows to a foot or more 
in height ; but the common arrangement 
of the flower is an umbel, or radiated, 
umbrella like form, at the top of the 
scope. This is an exceedingly beautiful 
and fragrant perennial, with only a radi- 
ated duster of spatulate leaves growing 
out of a little abrupt bulblet or crown, and 
lying almost flat upon the ground. 

No. 6 is the Purple Flax Primrose 
( (Enothera Viminea — ver intermedia,) 
Found abundantly in this vicinity and 
southward. The plant grows to two or 
three feet in height, with many erect 
branches ; the whole form slender, twig- 
gy ; the bark reddish or lustrous brown, 
with strong shining fibres, like hemp, 
often used by the Indians for making 
cords. The leaves are narrow, la tee 



CALIFORNIA WILD FLOWERS. 



489 




TBI GOLDBK BTAK TULIP. 

shaped ; flowers deep ridh parple, rarely 
roee-oolored, about one inoh broad, bloom- 
ing in Maj and June. Perhaps this plant 
might be asefal for economical caltiTation. 
No. 7 is another very beautiful plant 



of the same family — the Red Spotted 
Primrose (Omothera Amoena). The 
flower of this species is nearly twice the 
site of the former ; color, a light pale 
pink or rose, with a red spot at the base 



HDTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



of each petal. The Htem ii seldom more I 
thftn ft foot high,, broncluog from below, | 




. *'M^ 




»?S 



and lomevbat arching iboTe, m tfa&t 1I10 
flowets incline to one side, looking op- 
wftfda. Tbia beantifal prim- 
roae has long aince fonnd it« 
■way into caltiTfttion ; it ie 
not known bj whom it wa* 
first introduced. 

The a4i'>'''>'^E outline will 
aid those not familiar with 
technical descriptions, to re- 
cognise a common bulbons 
plant of California, closely 
allied to the Butterflj Tnlip 
(No. 1) of the preceding 
group. This flower is known 
as the Oolden Star Tnlip 
[Cffchbothra uiiida). These 
bulbs are highly pnied by 
the florist, and are beooming 
generally cultivated. There 
are five species, and perhaps 
more, all of which we hope to 
make known lo the publio in 
due time. 

The marginal outline rep- 
resents a leaf and a portion of 
the flowering stem of the for 
famed Chia of the Mexicans, 
{SalviacardTiacea.) The seeds 
infused in cold water, make ■ 
cooling mncilaginona summer 
drink, which is also Tery 
highly esteemed for ite restore 
Btive and curative virtnea, 
especially in internet mucous 
inflammations, fevers, and va- 
nons chronic ulmente. This 
Chia is also known aa tha 
CesUe Plant There is reason 
to believe that either writen 
have made some mistake, or 
there is another species, which 
by way of distinction, we will 
designate as the Lesser Chia 
[Salvia Columbariea.) 

The species here represeo- 
ted is drawn from a plant 
raised by Col. T. J. Nevius, of 



\ 
^ 



> 



THK MERCANTILE LFBRART ASSOCIATION. 



ttii« citj, in order to test thia questioD. 
Tbe plut abounds on light, ssodj knolla 
of flmt lands, in moat part* of California, 
ind ii qaite familiar to ua. A thiatl»- 



like cottonj aafte, with remarkably beau- 
tiful blue Bowers, arranged in apinoui 
vborla, or turrets, one above another. 



UBkART AHD uiDiNO-Booa or thi amociation. 



TH8 SAN FRANCISCO HBRCANTILS 
LIBRART ASSOCIATION. 

Thi Uercantile Library Aasooiation of 
ttia City of San Franoiaoo was organ- 
ii«d Janoary 10th, 1R53, and the flrat 
•leetion for ofEoera held on the 2Sth of 
tfaa um« month, reaultiug in faror of the 
follawiog named gentlemen : 

iVettdMi, Darid S. Tnnier ; FiceJVu- 
yUrU, J. p. Haven ; Recording Setr^ary, 
Wm. H. Slerena ; Corrttpmtding Stare- 
Airy, Dr. Henry Gibbons; T^eatitnr, 
Chaa. B. Bower^ Jr.; Directort, B. E. 
Dnnbar, 3. B. Crockett, D. H. HatkeU, 
B. P. Flint. 



A ooUeotion of about 1700 Tolnmee, 
the property of General Hitcboook, was 
purohaaed as a foundation for the library. 
These, with two aroall book eases and a 
few Slea of newspapers and periodicals, 
compoeed the property of the Associa- 
tion. The rooms, which were badly 
lighted and poorly ventilated, were a 
portion of the building situated upon the 
oomer of Kearny and Clay streets, then 
known as the (^lifomia Exchange, and 
were opened to th* pnblio on the let of 
Uaroh, 1854. 

Daring the year 1855, from tbe steady 
increase of members, it became erident 
that more ample Moommodations would 



492 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



soon be required, and arraDgements were 
made for removal to Montgomery Block. 
The prosperity of the Association stead- 
ily increasing, a second removal was 
deemed necessary and expedient, and the 
month of December found it again seek- 
ing new quarters. Suitable and attrac- 
tive rooms were found in the building at 
the comer of Montgomery and Jackson 
streets, and were found to answer the re- 
quirements of the Association until this 
year, when still larger and more sightly 
quarters were procured in the new build- 
ing, comer of Bush and Montgomery 
streets. 

The first Librarian of the Association 
was Mr. Wm. D. Bickham, who con- 
tinued to serve in that capacity for about 
a year, when he was succeeded by Mr. 
Horace Davis, who, owing to ill health, 
was compelled to resign in 1856. Mr. K 
DeLelawas appointed to fill the vacancy, 
but resigning soon after, the prevent in- 
cumbent, Mr. H. H. Moore, was elected, 
and has continued to discharge the du- 
ties of the office to the present time, with 
credit to himself, and advantage to the 
Association. 

Many valuable donations have been 
made by members and others. Among 
them specially should be noted the valu- 
able gift of Wm. T. Coleman, Esq., con- 
sisting of a full set of Audubon's Quad- 
rupeds of America, 3 vols, royal 8 vo., 
costing $175, and other costly works. 

The number of volumes in the library 
at this date is about 12,000. The num- 
ber added during the past year is 1500. 
The value of the books and works consti- 
tuting the library, may be estimated at 
about 120,000. The present paying mem- 
bers of the Association number 1000. 

The news rooms now occupied by the 
Association, are the most attractive and 
commodious in the State, and cost for 
furnishing nearly four thousand dollars. 
The reading room, with a frontage on 
Bush street of twenty-five feet, extending 



northerly fifty feet, is furnished with long 
reading tables and paper stands of the 
most approved patterns, which are abund- 
antly and promptly supplied vrith the 
leading journals, magazines and reviews, 
both foreign and American. The library 
room, fronting on Montgomery street 
twenty-five feet, and extending back 
sixty-eight feet, is well lighted and pecu- 
liarly adapted for the usee intended. It 
is fitted with suitable shelves, and ar- 
ranged with good taste and convenience. 
The chess room, having a frontage of 
twenty-five feet on Montgomery street, 
and fifty-two feet on Bush, is capable of 
accommodating forty tables. 

The present income derived from as- 
sessments is at the rate of $12,000 per 
year, and will be largely increased by 
receipts from lectures to be delivered du- 
ring the coming season. The probable 
expenses for the year may be estimated 
at $8,000. This sum is exclusive of the 
amount to be expended in the purchase 
of books. 

This institution should commend itself 
to all, and especially the young men of 
this city. Its benefits are incalculable, 
and the vast amount of valuable knowl- 
edge to be gleaned from the shelves of 
its well filled library, should reeommend 
it to the patronage of all. The number 
who daily and nightly visit the rooms 
has greatly increased, and this fact goes 
to prove that the members are availing 
themselves of the advantages to be de- 
rived therefrom. There is not a place in 
the State where the student, or the man 
of leisure, can pass his time more ajipree- 
ably than at the rooms of the Associa- 
tion. It has never been in so prosperous 
a condition as at the present time. The 
contrast between the past and the pres- 
ent of the institution is very striking. 
The. period is short, and the results, when 
a comparison is made with other institu- 
tions of a similar character, are truly sur- 
prising, as will be seen by the following 
statement : " 



FATHER JUNIPERO SERRA. 



493 



Boston has the honor of instituting the 
first association of the kind in the United 
States, upon March 11th 1820 

New York, Not. 19th 1820 

Philadelphia 1821 

Cincinnati 1834 

Baltimore 1839 

St Louis 1846 

San Francisco. 1853 

Brooklyn 1858 

The number of Tolumes possessed by 
each association, on the first pf January 
1B60, was as follows: — 

Boston 19,000 

Philadelphia 16,800 

Baltimore 16,451 

San Francisco 11,400 

New York 55,300 

Cincinnati 21,000 

St. Louis 16,000 

Brooklyn 17,500 

To the active exertions of the early 
members must be attributed much of its 
present healthy condition. They labored 
well and faithfully, and though often at 
a loss for the wherewithal to defray its 
necessary current expenses, yet full of 
hope they worked on, until at length their 
exertions were crowned with success, and 
they have now the pleasure of seeing the 
InstatQtion placed upon a substantial and 
permanent basis. Many of the early 
patrons have made themselres life mem- 
bers, and two have contributed to the 
faods of the Association the handsome 
som of five hundred dollars each. 

The oflicers for the present year are : 
Prtsidtni. Wm. H. Stevens; Vice Ptesi- 
^^9 Wm. R. Garrison; Corresponding 
Serreiarjf, R. B. Swain ; Recording Secre- 
tary, Edward Hunt; Ireamrer, J. Q. 
Kellogg; Directors, Charles W. Brooks, 
Frank Baker, Wm. Norris, Charles R. 
Bund, J. W. J. Pierson, Thos. Bennett, 
John Shaw, D. P. Belknap, U. C. Macy ; 
lAbrartan, II. U. Moore; Assistant Li- 
^rariansy Danl. E.Webb, John J. Tayker. 



THE DEATH AND BURIAL OF FA- 
THER JUNIPERO SERRA, 
Founder of the Missions of Calif omia. 



BT T. H. 8b 



Ths following account of the death and 
burial of Father Junipero Serra, transla- 
ted from the original Spanish, is taken 
from the old book of deaths, (beginning in 
1770,) of the Mission of San Carlos del 
Carmelo. It was written out by Friar Pa- 
lou, who, after Serra's death, returned to 
Mexico, and published his biography in 
1787. Palou was shortly afterwards ap- 
pointed guardian of the Franciscan col- 
lege of San Fernando, in the city of Mex- 
ico—the mother institution for supplying 
the Missions of California with mission- 
aries. 

To this is appended autographs of the 
Missionaries, Governors and Officers of 
California, from 1770 to after 1830, taken 
from the Mss. reoords of the California 
Missions, now in the possession of the 
St. Mary's Catholic Library Association 
of San Francisco,* and which will appear 
in this magasine as room can be made. 
The aooonipanying portrait has never 
before been published in any work or 
country. 

On the 29th of August, 1784, in the 
church of this Mission of San Carlos de 
Monterey, in the Presbitario on the Gos- 
pel side, before the altar of our Lady of 
Dolores, preceded by a vigilia, and sing- 
ing high mass and the requiem, with all 
the ceremonies and functions prescribed 
in the manual of the order, for the fune- 
rals of the Religious, with the assistance 
of brother Don Christoval Dia, Chaplain 
of the Packet Boat San Carlos, anchored 
in this port, and the Rev. Fathers Preach- 
ers, Friars Buenaventura Si^ar, Minister 



• We give UUs entlrdjr on fteeoani of Ita historical 
Tftlae la OaUfornla, and not from anj rdigioas pre- 
ference ve fed for ttiia or bq/ ottier pftrtlcaUr eect 
or form of wonhlp. [ko. 



HITTCQINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



of the Minion of San AoloDio, and Ma* 
thias de Sonts Calslina, HiDi>t«r of tbia 
MisrioD, I gare ecclesiastical sepulture to 
the bodj of the Bev. Father Lecturer 
Friar Junipero Seira, president and foun- 
der of these Misaiona, son of the Holj 
Province uf Ma1(jrca, where he took his 
habit on the 14th of Septemher, 1730, 
aged 19 jesrB, 9 months aad 21 dnjs, 
and proving to be a true Collegiate Reli- 
gions, and where he rtnd with great ac- 
ceptance the course of Philosophy ; I hav- 
ing the honor of heing one of his schol- 
ars. When the course nas finished he 
was appointed Professor of First Sacred 



Tbeologj in the UniverHity of the Island 
of Malorca, where he was honored with 
the tassel (borla) of Doctor of that fac- 
nlty, having tilled the Professor's chair 
to the Hatisfaction of the UniTersity, and 
the Holy Province ; he being considered 
bj all very learned and eloquent in the 
pulpit, and attracting the attention of 
both Uaiversities, who recommended and 
praised his aermoDB, as of the greatest 
importance. Be being of the greatest 



elevation and estimation, touched bj God 
for some grand design, and lending bin 
bis bands in all the bonors that he bid 
or might expect, be desired to occupy the 
talents which God had given to him in 
the conversion of the Gentile Indians, 
and having obtained hie Licence and Pa- 
teat, he joined, in the year 1749, the 
misnon that was then in Cadii for the 
Apostolic College for the propagation of 
the faith, of San Fernando in Heiico, 
where be arrived on the first day of Jan- 
uary, 1750. He remained in that Col- 
lege till the beginning of June of the 
same year, when he was sent to the mis- 
sions of the Sierra Gorda, (which bad 
beeu founded for six years,) and worked 
with watchfulness and teal, and was a 
great example to all. 

Nine years after be was recalled from 
bis charge of these Missions, to preudc 
over the intended foundations at (li« 
rlTcr San Saba, but this being frustrated 
by the death of the Viceroy, prevented 
the conquest thereof. He remained id 
the College, in the employment of the 
Hissions, and assisted in the duties of 
the sainted tribunal of the faith, as hit 
Commissary had qfdered him, discharg- 
ing this service to the satisfaction of that 
tribunal. In this exercise of the mis- 
sions amongst the Brethren, be remained 
till June, 17G7, and was then called by 
the Rev. Father Guardian of the College, 
aud named President of the sixteen mis- 
sions of old California, which had been 
administered previously by the Bev. Fa- 
thers, the Ex-Jesuits. He remained ons 
year in Old California, with the said mis- 
sions of Loretto under bis charge, aod 
during that period visited those eslsblish- 
ments several times, both those to the 
south and the north of that place. 

In April, 17C9, he left Loretto, by laud, 
with the expedition to discover the port 
of San Diego, and arrived at the frontier 
ef ancient California. On his way be 
founded the miasion of San Fernando de 



FATHER JUNIPERO SERRA. 



405 



Villacatta, and arriving at the port of 
Sao Diego, rested there, whilst the expe- 
dition went to look for the port of Monte- 
rey. He founded the mission of San Di- 
ego in 1770. He then went ap by sea to 
the disooTery of this port, and im medi- 
ately lent hand to foand this mission, 
ind continued, as circumstances would 
permit, to found the remainder of the 
missions, which may be seen up to the 
present time, in the parochial books of 
foundation. In fourteen years in Cali- 
fornia he traveled a great deal, and once 
weot to Mexico to procure means for 
these spiritual conquests ; and the rest 
of his travels was visiting the Missions of 
California, to animate, with his holy zeal 
sod prudence, all his subjects. His visits 
vere made oftener after he received the 
faculty to confirm, which his teal made 
him solicit. During the time that he 
exercised that faculty, (which expired on 
the tenth of July last,) he confirmed 
56,307 souls. 

About one month and a-half after the 
<aid faculty had expired, his Reverence 
delirered up his soul to his Creator, at 
the age of seventy years and nine months, 
exoept four days ; wearing the religions 
habit fifty-three years, eleven months 
sod four days, and ap apostolic mission- 
ary thirty-five years, four months and a 
half. 

He prepared himself to die, repeating 
the general confession, and finding that 
the complaint in his chest was getting 
worse, and that he had some fever. On 
the twenty-seventh of this month, afler 
repeating the divine offices, including the 
third, he went on foot to the church and 
received the last sacred rites on his knees, 
to the edification of the people and a 
P^at many persons who assisted, and 
i^^ived the holy viaticum, with the same 
<)eremooy ordained in the Roman Sera- 
phic Ritual; and when the ceremony 
ooounenced, our said Father was then on 
^ knees, intoning with his sonorous 



voice, appearing as if there was no alter- 
ation in the verse **Antum ergo vo" so to 
our astonishment that we could not ac- 
company him. In this fervent devotion 
he received the sacrament, and in the 
same posture gave orations to our Lord, 
after which he returned to his room. At 
night he asked for the Holy Oil, and re- 
hearsed with us Fathers the Penitential 
Psalms and the Litanies. The remainder 
of the same night he passed giving thanks 
to God, sometimes on his knees and at 
other times sitting on the floor, without 
going to bed, and always dressed in his 
habit and cloak. At the break of day 
he asked me to supplicate the indulgence 
of Mary for those who were kneeling. 
He was then reconciled, returning his 
thanks. In fine, on the 28th day, in the 
morning, he was visited by the Captain of 
the bark Don Joseph Canizares, and his 
Father Chaplain, and received them sit- 
ting, giving them his thanks for their 
visit, and likewise embraced the Chap- 
lain ; both of these friends giving thanks 
to God that, after traveling over so much 
land, they had arrived at last to throw a 
little earth on to his remains. A few 
minutes after he said he felt some fear, 
and asked them to read aloud the recom- 
mendation for the soul, which they did. 
He then responded the same as if he was 
in good health, and exclaimed with de- 
light — "thank God I am now without 
fear, and have nothing to care for; I feel 
better, and will take a little soup." He 
then got up and sat down at the table, 
and after taking a portion wished to rest» 
and laid down, taking nothing off but hia 
cloak. He lay tranquilly for a short 
time, and then rested in the Lord ; for, 
without making any sign further, he de- 
livered his spirit unto the Creator, a lit- 
tle after four o'clock in the afternoon of 
the twenty-eighth day, being the Feast 
Day of San Augustin, Doctor of the 
Church. 
When the bells began to toll, all the 



496 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



little town was in a state of commotion ; 
the Indians crying and lamenting the 
death of their good Father, and likewise 
all the people of reason on shore and on 
board ship ; all asking for a remnant of 
the habit he had worn ; and they came to 
that extreme, that in the church they cut 
out some pieces from the habit that he 
died in, he being put in the coffin with- 
out anything being taken from his body. 
Before he died he had ordered, (with- 
out letting any of those present know,) 
the carpenter of the Presidio to make his 
coffin to bury his body. We promised to 
give them, if they would stop, a 'Hunica'' 
of the deceased Father to make them a 
scapulary, and they did so. Notwith- 
standing they were guarding his body in 
the church, many of the people went in 
and took some memorials from his body; 
they were moved to do this by the great 
fame of the perfect and exemplary Fa- 
ther. His funeral was attended by all 
the people ashore and from on board ship, 
and showing all the honors they could to 
their deceased Father; the Captain of the 
bark giving him, with his artillery, all 
the honors of a General ; the same hon- 
ors beins answered by the Royal Presi- 
dio of Monterey. The same honors were 
repeated on the fourth day of September, 
with vigils and high mass, assisted by 
the same people, and with another cler- 
gyman, which was the Rev. Father An- 
tonia Paterna, Minister of the Mission of 
San Luis Obispo, who could not arrive in 
time for the funeral, but was here to as- 
sist in the honors of the mass on this' 
latter occasion. 

And so that everything said may ap- 
pear, I sign this in said mission, on the 
6th day of September, 1784. 

Friar Franco Palou.. 



KOTE BY THE TRANSLATOR. 

It is well ascertained now, that the 
body of the founder of the California 
Missions lies under the altar of the old 



Mission Church of San Carlos del Oar- 
melo, three miles from Monterey, and 
which is now covered with the rubbish of 
the roof, which fell in during the winter 
of 1852. Attempts were made in 1855, 
by the Cur a of Monterey, to clear awav 
the rubbish, and disinter the body ; but 
the labor was so expensive that the funds 
gave out. 

Vampire Bats. — Dr. George Gardner, 
in his Travels in the interior . of Brazil, 
describes these singular creatures as pe- 
culiar to the continent of America, being 
distributed over the immense extent of 
territory between Paraguay and the Isth- 
mus of Darien, where they attack the 
fleshy parts of men, horses, calves, and 
pigs, and voraciously suck their fill of 
blood. Their tongue, which is capable 
of considerable extension, is furnished at 
its extremity with a number of papillce, 
which appear to be so arranged as to 
form an organ of suction ; and their lips 
have also tubercles symmetrically ar- 
ranged ; these are the organs by which 
they draw the life-blood &0m both man 
and beast. These animals are the fa- 
mous vampires of which travelers have 
given such redoubtable accounts, and 
which are known to have nearly destroy- 
ed the first establishment of Europeans 
in the New World. The molar teeth of 
the true vampire or spectre-bat, are of 
the most carnivorous character ; the first 
being short and almost plain, the others 
sharp and cutting, and terminating id 
three or four points. Their rough tongue 
has been supposed to be the instrument 
employed for abrading the skin, so as to 
enable them more readily to abstract the 
blood, but zoologists are now agreed that 
such supposition is wholly groundless. 
Having carefully examined, in many ca- 
ses, the wounds thus made on horses, 
pigs, mules, and other animals, observa- 
tions that have been confirmed by inform- 
ation received from the inhabitants of 
the northern parts of Brazil, Dr. Gard- 
ner is led to believe that the puncture 
which the vampire makes in the skin of 
animals is efiected by the sharp-hooked 
nail of its thumb, and that from the 
wound thus made it abstracts the blood 
by the suctorial powers of its lips and 
tongue. The doctor killed some that 
measured two feet between the tips of 
the wings. 



TWENTY TEAKS AGO.— DRESS AS A FINE ART. 



497 



TWENTY YEARS AGO. 



BY G. T. SPBOAT. 



** Thoa art welcome to onr home, stranger ; 'tit trae 'de an humble one, 
I would giro thee better welcome, but my race ie almost ran, 
Old and wearied I am and palsied, and my eyes are growing dim, 
Bat their sight woald soon return again, coald I bat look on him. 

He was my eldest born, my pride, the flower of my flock ; 
Strong was his frame like an oak, and firm his feet stood like a rock. 
He left me — whither he wandered, 'tis not for me to know — 
Twenty years ago, to-day ; twenty years ago. 

They said he wandered o'er the seas, to lands far richer than these ; 
Some said he sailed o'er the Spanish Main, and some o'er the Indian seas. 
I know not— only this I know, as I journey down the hill, ^ 
He is with me, nestling near my heart ; he is with me, living still I 

He is with me : when the busker's song rings from the meadows clear, 
I go to the window and listen — it is Harry's voice I hear I 
I hear him whistling to bis team, as he drives to the fields at morn ; 
His laugh is ringing, in the shout of the reapers, with the corn 

Last night he stood beside my bed — I saw him, in my dream — 
And, through the casement, on his face, I saw the moonlight gleam. 
' Mother V he said ; — 'twas a foolish dream I — he went away, I know, 
Twenty years ago, to-day ; twenty years ago. 

Should you e'er meet my wandering boy, bear him these words from me : 
* I am old, and I watch through the weary years, waiting his face to see. 
I am old, and I watch through the weary years, as they pass me silently by; 
I long to gaze on his winsome face, and lay me down and die.' " 



4« 



His face 1 — thou art gazing on it now t — smother, it is no dream 1 
Thine eyes are dim for the wasting years ; — things are not what they seem. 
Yet, the heart will speak ; — 'tis he 1 the same as when thou saw'st him go. 
Twenty years ago, to-day ; twenty years ago I " 



^•^ 



DRESS AS A FINE ART. 

I will BOW endeavor to redeem the 
promise made in a previous paper, and 
say something about the dress of men, 
who, like women, have taste, fancy, and 
fashion in these matters, although they 
all anfofinnately have to succumb to the 



inexorable law of cnstom, which has 
clothed all men in the same lagabrioas 
hue. 

In the picturesque oldeo time^in the 
days of Holbein, Rubens and Vandyke — 
the same variety of hoes and tints now 
monopolised by the female world alone, 
was then the property of both men and 



408 



HUTCHIKGS' CAUFORKIA MAGAZIKIL 



vomeD. Gay cavaliers and coartiers 
fi uttered in orange, scarlet and purple, 
while the lower strata of society had for 
every-day wear the hodden gray, buff 
jerkin and leathern doublet, and on holi- 
day occasions shone brayely in the same 
hues worn by their betters, only softened 
off to a soberer tint, as befitted their 
humbler walk in life. A holiday throng 
must baye been a rare sight for a paint- 
er, when the gaily draperied and ban- 
nered streets were filled with the stream- 
ing crowds of people dressed in rainbow 
hues. No black masses of masculines 
with stove-pipe hats to offend the eye, bnt 
all variegatecl, yet harmonious, the col- 
ors of a flower-bed mingled and inter- 
mingled in the moving throng. 

But all this went out with the royalty 
of Charles the First, of unhappy memo- 
ry. With the Roundheads came in the 
black coats, the short hair, and the close- 
ly fitting doublet of the present day. 
Purplings, rufflings, love-locks and gay 
clothing went out with the Stuarts, and 
the loose habits of that dynasty have 
never been revived, at least in the literal 
sense. Woman alone has been allowed, 
through the mutations of many centu- 
ries, to keep her finery and her variegat- 
ed catalogue of colors. 

A black coat and pantaloons, with a 
white waistcoat, are now regarded as the 
exact standard upon which all men who 
would be the gloss of fashion must form 
themselves ; and hence an evening party 
infallibly commends to the imagination 
of the observer the comparison of a flock 
of white-breasted blackbirds, (if such 
things be,) fluttering among beds of 
flowers of every hue. 

A gaily dressed lady uses her male 
companion as a foil ; his " customary 
suit of solemn black" serves as a back- 
ground on which her glowing colors are 
oontrasted and exhibited. 

Now, while I do protest against this 
most unnatural and foolish fashion, I 



have not the hardihood to attempt to 
write it down, but only throw out a few 
hints which may serve to ameliorate the 
condition of those who feel the gall of the 
chain of almost immemorial custom. 

But, in the first place, I would say t 
few words about the fitness of dress. 
Most men claim the right to dress as they 
please, without regard to any considera- 
tions of station, oconpation, or ability. 
Now, no man — and, for that matter, no 
woman — has a right to encourage extra?- 
agance in anything, and costly dress in- 
directly invites competition; for meo, 
being human, do not like to be outshone, 
and the prevailing extravagance in men's 
dress, in its way as bad as women's, is 
owing to men's dressing to the very ut- 
most, and even to the excess of their 
means, without any sort of regard to 
their station in life. Let no man feel 
obliged so to dress that he advertises his 
calling thereby, nor yet so that the elact 
state of his finances shall be determined 
by a look at his apparel ; still, a carpen- 
ter or plasterer in the same kind of garb 
as that worn by a clergyman or lawyer, 
or an artist in clothes similar to those of 
a bricklayer, seems to me to be absurd 
and wrong. Let a man dress according 
to his means and condition, and, if he is 
a man of taste, he will let the coarser 
parts of his dress be redeemed and or- 
namented by some costlier feature, as & 
vest or cravat. Let him read and im- 
prove upon Polonius' advice to his son— 

** OobkIj ttiy habit m thy pone can buy,** Ac. 

But is it necessary that every man 
should conform to the rigid rule above 
mentioned, and let the suit of sablee, 
crossed with white, be his only dress uni- 
form ? It seems to me not. It is true, 
that whatever is fasfaionaUe and custom- 
ary seems best; bnt it is a very question- 
able best which clothes ail men alike in 
the same color, allowing no difference for 
exercise of taste in hues, except in small 
matters. If we prefer, as it would seem 



DRESS AS A FINE ART. 



^9 



tbat a true taato would prefer, to modify 
the preTailiog style, why not adopt suob 
liaet M claret, olive, or brown? — ^thus 
breaking tbe liable charm, and yet keep- 
ing near enough to conventionality not to 
be singular. But let us have no more 
black habited men, cut across the middle 
by a white vest Save your snowy wuat- 
ooat for light trousers; but» if you must 
wear black, oonnect the bust to your ter- 
minations by a dark vest. 

Spotless linen is a mark of innate re- 
fiaement ; but fancy-figured shirt-fronts, 
collars, Ac., are suggestive of economy in 
Isondiy bills, and are too closely border- 
ing on the "flasV for men of taste to 
wear. The same rule applies to '* stun- 
ning" waistcoats, in which the busts of 
•ome men bloom and bud. Gloves on a 
man's hands, except as coverings from 
heat or cold, are e£feminate and weak. 
The cobbler ashamed of his calling, or 
the dyer whose hand is " subdued to what 
it works in," may hide their week-day 
tmploymenta under tinted rat or kid 
ikin; but a clean, shapely hand looks as 
well uncovered as gloved. If gloves are 
worn, let them be of quiet hues, no asure 
or lemon color, at least so long as men 
wear their present jackdaw plumage. 

The remarks made in a former paper 
shout jewelry, will apply with equal 
force to the present subject Men, who 
profess to be practical and utilitarian, 
ought to remember that jewelry on their 
persoos should be worn very sparingly, 
and always have a real use. Rings on 
Angers, with a stone of the Mxe of a 
breakfast plate; flaming brilliants on 
•hirt fronts, gilded ox-chains hanging 
from watches, jeweled sleeve-buttons, and 
the like, are as surely indicative of innate 
Tulgirity as are flaunting ribbons on the 
opposite sex. 

Bveiy man who wishes well of his kind 
will Uess the memory of those Hunga^ 
riaaSfWho, some years ago, introduced 
to this country the soft hat If there is 



anything about the dress of a man that 
is under all circamstances incongruous 
and unequal to its vocation, it is the so- 
called " stove-pipe" hat Stiff and rigid, 
it towers far above the head of its wear- 
er, like the glittering helmet of Hector, 
which so astonished his infant offspring 
in its mother's arms. Brittle and nappy, 
the least blow fractures it, and the slight- 
est touch niflles its shining surface, while 
its narrow brim, stiff as a tin collar, 
serves only as a partial relief to the vast 
superstructure, rising far above the wear- 
er's caput, inviting the rays of the sun, 
and making a hot-air chamber over the 
golden bowl which contains the brain. 
But the soft hat, convenient and pliable, 
unruffled by untoward accident, shades 
the wearer's face, and, from its facile 
character, assimilates itself to the phy- 
sique which it crowns. Commend to me 
the soft hat, but give me no more " stove- 
pipes." 

From what has been written, tbe read- 
er will see what tbe writer considers the 
pattern of dressing well : to eschew all 
decided colors so far as possible, but to 
endeavor to mix different shades of oolor 
into one's garniture, and to so array one's 
self, that the appearance shall be cheer- 
ful, yet quiet; rich, but not striking; 
and to 90 harmonise the whole^ that the 
wearer shall seem to have all his gar- 
ments from the same idea, and not as 
though each part were manufactured and 
fitted independently of tbe other. 

Let black clothes be confined to those 
for whom they were originally intended, 
the clergy ; but you and I, who are mil- 
lers, carpenters, merchants, or what not, 
should esuhew such solemn toggery, and 
remember thati while we cannot» with 
Pope, endorse the cynical maxim that 
*' Dress makes the man, the want of it 
the fellow," we can acknowledge^ with 
Beecher, that man looks a great deal bet- 
ter dressed up. 

EisiLiunr. 



500 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



AGNES EMERSON. 
A Tale of the Revolviion, 

BY GORDON GREENLAW. 



EPOCH SECOND. 



[Continued from page 478.1 



i« 



c< 



CHAPTER III. 

Which is very commonplace. 

I come from my rest to him I lore best, 
That he may be happy and I may be blest. 

Bthok. 

*' And do I not look old, 

dearest, and you love me despite this dis- 
figuring scat ?" 

My own true love." 
And now, Agnes, we must talk no 
more ; pray get ready, and let us start 
together for London. I have delayed in 
a manner hardly excusable, for these 
confounded dispatches must be deliver- 
ed to-morrow. I will sleep at Guilford's, 
also you, dearest, and Miss Nisbet. I 
will start early in the morning from 
there, deliver my dispatches, and you 
vfill by starting four hours later, find me, 
my duty performed, ready to receive you 
on arrival at your hotel." 

" But, George, why not go through to- 
night ; I would not that blame rested on 
you on my account. Why delay V 

"Ah, Agnes," said George, "you don't 
quite understand me yet ; true, I have 
been wrong to delay for this hour, but 
still it cannot matter much. I am forbid 
to travel except by daylight, for I have 
jewels from the East intrusted to me 
worth jS20,000. They are for the King, a 
present from Tippoo, on conclusion of the 
peace. We can get to Guilford, now, in 
six hours. There is your carriage ready, 
how quick they have procured one." 

She disengaged herself from his em- 
brace and prepared to go, but he again 
put his arms around her. "One more 
word. Agues; after to-morrow we part 
no more — is it not so ? 



She hid her face in his bosom. "As 
you will, George, as you will." 

" The first of January is the annive^ 
sary of my leaving England, wretched 
and disgraced ; will you make it a joyful 
one by becoming mine on that day ?" 

Closer she nestled for a moment, mut- 
tered " yes," and was gone. 

George's man servant and Miss Emer- 
son's maid occupied one chaise, whilst in 
the other the Colonel squeezed himself 
with the two ladies. Miss Nisbet ob- 
jected humorously to the arrangement, 
as not quite proper, but he carried his 
point in spite of her faint opposition. 

On the journey the Colonel told of his 
Eastern career, so that the time appeared 
short, indeed, until they arrived about 
dusk at Guilford. 

After the receipt of the letters from bis 
fkther and brother, he had taken passage 
to India. He arrived there at the time 
that the news of the famous Hyder Ally's 
immense army leaving Seringapatam 
and marching towards the British fron- 
tier, fell like a thunderbolt upon the ears 
of the Supreme Madras government. 

George immediately, under his first 
two names (George Beale), volunteered 
his services, and received in the dearth of 
offica;rs a local Captain's commission, and 
the command of a wing of irregular 
troops, rapidly organized from the native 
population. And now it was that he 
showed the resources he possessed — 
marching ten to sixteen miles per day; 
three hours were yet steadily given to 
drilling his men. His energy was un- 
tiring. Beaten atAroot, at Bellore he 
displayed his strategic ability by the 
masterly manner in which he extricated 
his handful of men from the midst of the 
opposing masses. After battles had been 
loi^t by the mismanagement of the dolts 
holding superior commands, vrith British 
forces, Sir Eyre Coote arrived and as- 
sumed the command. Such a man as the 
new oommander-in-chief soon appreciated 



AONES BMSRSON. 



501 



George's merito and gallantry. He ap- 
pointed hia extra Aid-decamp, oonfirm- 
ed hiB oommiseioii, and gave him tem- 
porary commands on urgent oocasione, 
wherever work was to be done. At the 
pUces mentioned by Mr. Maodonald in a 
^rerioas chapter, he had time after time 
.iftingaished himself. He made himself 
ouster of the native language, in those 
dsys a rare thing and much required, 
when native interpreters were at best 
imperfect, and hard to depend upon. 

Promoted to the rank of Major, he was 
ooe of the unfortunates with General 
Matthews, when that officer capitulated 
with the enemy and fell into the hands 
of the victorious Tippoo Saib, after the 
detth of his father, Hyder Ally. From 
this captivity he made his escape, and 
•saming the native costume, passed 
through the very heart of the enemy, 
giining information which proved inval- 
nable. For this he was made Lieutenant 
Colonel, and sent» after the conclusion of 
the peace, to Europe, his health being 
Bueh shattered. 

To but one person had he acknowl- 
edged himself as George Beale Harrison, 
the cashiered officer, and this was to 
Sir Eyre Coote, his constant patron. That 
generous though irritable man, endeav- 
ored to persuade him to assume now the 
same he had vindicated beyond reproach; 
but, until he should know that he would 
be recognised by his father, he refused to 
do this. 

The news which he afterwards received 
from the ne«rspapers of his father's and 
second brother's death, destroyed the 
only desire he had to resume his own 
name amongst his countrymen. His 
eldest brother he felt less desire to com- 
manicate with, as he had behaved so 
harshly to him in his misfortunes. The 
nrgent desire of Agnes, however, was 
that he should now be known by his full 
name; and before they reached the rest- 
ing place for the night he had oonsented 



to this, on condition that no communioa- 
tion as to his reasons for passing as 
George Beale should be made public, or 
reference made to others as to his actual 
family. 

The next day George reached London 
early, having, as had been agreed, started 
at dawn from Guilford. He at once de- 
livered his dispatches, and received the 
King's command the same evening to 
wait on his majesty at two o'clock the 
following day at Windsor. 

CHAPTXa IV. 

Which iniroduees RoyMy, 

We too are friends to ro/alty. We lore 

The King who lorei the Uw, retpectM hie boaode 

And relfna content within them. Him we eerre 

Freelj and with delight, who learea vm tTt% 

Bat recollectlnf lUll that he Is man, 

We trust him not too far. Oowrsn. 

Thiki was a quiet, family Hotel, in 
Dover street, one of the streets which 
run off from that great London artery, 
Picadilly. Here in comfortable, old- 
fashioned rooms, Agnes and Miss Nisbet 
were installed. 

They had just concluded breakfast^ 
when George arrived. He himself bad 
taken up his quartern in the immediate 
neighborhood, for the short time that 
should elapse before Agnes and he should 
be united. 

<* Well, Agnes," said he, after the usual 
salutations had passed, and which had 
been very tender on the part of the lovers, 
pending which Miss Nisbet had been 
discreetly, not too industriously, poking 
and raking the fire. "Well Agnes, I 
was awoke by a very early call from Lord 
Macdonald, who had heard of my ar> 
rival. I made a confidant of him in 
everything; he has been most kind. I 
last night received the King's commands 
to attend him at Windsor to-day. Lord 
Maodonald is going there also, on official 
duty, he being deputy ranger of the 
park; his carriage will be here at 10 
o'clock, and he wishes yon and Miss Nia- 



502 



HUTCHINGS' CALIIORNIA BIAOAZINE. 



bet to accept seats. While I am in at- 
tendance at the Castle, he will show jou 
all the points interesting in a historical 
point of Tiew — the noble old park and all 
the many beauties of old Windsor. Yon 
will enjoy it mnch, and we shall be back 
again by eight or nine o'clock in tiie 
eToning.'^ 

"Upon my word/' said Miss Nisbet, 
" but you are a bold man to intrust your 
lady love to a young man ; for you said 
Lord Macdonald was not over forty, and 
very fascinating too. I suppose you want 
me to play duenna, but I can assure you 
I shall do no such thing. I'll give him 
every opportunity." 

"My dear Madam, yon forget I am 
going myself, and can do my own watch- 
ing." 

"Oh, but you are so forgetful of pro- 
prieties," rejoined the old lady; "only 
think, two single men traveling with two 
unmarried women ; joking aside, it looks 



so/' 

"Oh hang the proprieties," said the 
Colonel, laughing ; " besides, Agnes and 
I are to be married in a few days, you 
know, and I forgot to mention that Lord 
Macdonald's married sister goes too." 

'Ah, now you talk sensibly, you see he 
has some knowledge of the customs of 
society, although he does consent to drive 
five in a carriage." 

It was a fine pretty day, and if rather 
cold for driving, still, even the winter 
scenery and the magnificent residences 
were the source of constant interest to 
Agnes, who remarked, "how much milder 
the English winter was, than that of 
New York." 

George was dressed in his full uniform 
as a staff o£Eicer, and which was very 
handsome. It was etiquette to do so for 
presentation to the Ring. He had fan- 
cied that to Agnes it would appear an 
attractive attire, but he was much mis- 
taken; for certain it is, that military 
unifbrms detract from an elegant, pol- 



ished man, nearly as much aa they im- 
prove ordinary looking mortale. 

Having left Agnes and her friend on 
arrival at Windsor to the care of Lord 
Macdonald and his aister, George pro- 
ceeded to the Castle, and after a short 
interval was by an equerry ushered into 
the presence of Royalty. 

George the Third was at no time of his 
life a striking looking man, and exoeptr 
ing upon state occasions, seldom sur- 
rounded by the usual forms and ceremo- 
nies attendant upon monarchs ; and this 
latter was pleasing to our half-republican 
hero. 

The presentation was by a high mili- 
tary officer in attendance, and the jewels 
from the East duly delivered. The King 
was not an admirer of gems, only es- 
teeming them for their money valae, so 
after a very cursory examination, they 
were handed to an officer of the house- 
hold. 

" WeU, Colonel Beale," said his ma- 
jesty, falling into the chatty way he was 
often apt to do, and which was by many 
considered as undignified, " so they tell 
us you have been very instrumental in 
concluding the treaty of peace." 

" May it please your majesty, they at- 
tribute more merit than I deserve for my 
efforts to perform my duty." 

" Modest, eh, proper, very proper in a 
young man, and your name has been fre- 
quently mentioned to us as an officer of 
high gallantry — great gallantry. Wes 
your first active service in India, Sir 7" 

" It was not, your mi^esty." 
Where then. Sir f" 
I was attached, Sire» to your ma- 
jesty's forces in America." 

The King's face darkened, any refer- 
ence to the lost Colonies, always soured 
him. " In what regiment ?" 

" I belonged to the— Regiment of Foot, 
may it please your mi^esty," said the 
Colonel, dreading the next question. 

" Not much glory there, sir, not much 



i< 



« 



AGNBS BMBBSON. 



S03 



gloiy in fighting rebels— fighting rebels,'' 
nid the King, empbatioftUy. " We hope 
to aee yon, Odonel Beale, at St. James, 
when we retam tbere,'' and with a slight 
incIinatioQ of the head the monarch 
psflsed thiongh an adjoining door, and the 
tadienoe terminated, greatly to Qeorge's 
xelief. 

"It was fortunate that yon disturbed 
his majesty by referenoe to America," 
nid the equerry, as he showed him oat^ 
** for he was in one of his inquisitive hn- 
mon, snd woald hare wormed out of you 
jour whole history, your father's, and 
l^nuidfsther's too, for the matter of that. 
Will yon not take some refreshment^ we 
an just going to lunch 7" 

Beolining the proffer, on the plea of 
Lord Macdonald's .waiting for him, 
George hastened to rejoin his party, not 
etrtng whether he ever had another in- 
terriew with the King, on whose domin- 
iont the sun nerer sets. 

The duties of Lord Maedonald delay- 
ing him at Windsor, they, after a hurried 
hmeh, and a hasty walk to and through 
the state rooms of the palace, returned 
to London, aceompanied by Lady Horton, 
Lord Macdonald's sister. 

The grandeur of the famed Windsor 
Csstle, the many interesting episodes told 
of it by that lady, and her agreeable and 
polished manners, rendered the distance 
of twentj-siz miles appear almost a short 
drive. 

[7b b4 continued.] 
MT NATIVE STBBAaC. 

Thjr pUcid stream, sweet Merrim&c, 

Rolls proudly onward, wild and free, 
ThroQgb mossy banks and gray old woods, 

Fit haoots for poet's minstrelsie ; 
And OQ thy sparkling bosom rest 

Fair islets clothed in glowing dies, 
Contrasting with thy dark blue wave. 

As stars with yonder vaulted skies. 

Upon thy banks, in childhood's mom, 
I passed full many a bliibsome day, 



Nor thought, as wave on wave rolled on. 
That youth as fast would glide away. 

Oft, gazing at the evening hour 
Into thy mirror'd sky's concave, 

I wondered if the twinkling stars 
Were bathing in thy limpid wave. 

And oft I marked, with boyish glee, 

Each new-born bubble's world-like pride, 
As, sparkling in the ihoon's pale light, 

It floats upon thy eddying tide ; 
But bright waves danced in gladness there, 

And sportive kissed thy pebbly shore, 
That since have found their ocean home. 

And seek thy fond embrace no more. 

And I from thy loved banks have strayed 

To other lands — 'neath other skies — 
And scenes of pleasure, bright and gay. 

Have met my weary, languid eyes ; 
But ah I I turn from all away ; 

Not fortune's smile, nor golden dream, 
Can win my thoughts from thy fair shores, 

My love from thee, my native stream 1 

What though proud Avon's sparkling wave 

Was his whom nature calls her own — 
Who wore the proudest wreath of fame 

That poesy has ever known ? 
What though sweet Afton's gentle stream 

Has flowed in music's numbers long, 
And " bank's and braes o' bonnie Doon'' 

Are written in immorUl song ? 

Thy sparkling wave is yet as fair 

As Europe's proudest stream may know, 
As beautiful thy pebbly shore. 

As musicaf thy onward flow ; 
And on thy banks as noble hearts 

Thrill with the pride of honest worth. 
As may be found in palace halls 

Among the title^ ones of earth. 

May Liberty, like thee, fair stream, 

Roll onward In lu chaialess might, 
Sweeping fh>m earth despotic Wrong, 

And bringing seeds of truth to light. 
Then may thy sons anew rejoice. 

When Error's withering breath is flown, 
And one glad, universal voice 

Shall make man's full redemption known. 



504 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



FRAGMENTARY MEMORIALS 

OF FATHXR KINO AND THI INDIANS OF 80- 
NORA AND OAUFORNIA. 



BT J. H. S. 



The Indians of Sonora have been the 
subjeoto of antiqaarian research among 
the savans of America and Europe for 
the last three hundred years ; but the 
few facts gathered by casual traTclers, 
priests and writers, are simply sugges- 
tive, and only furnish the basis on which 
to found more diligent investigations by 
educated men, who wUl now shortly be 
brought into more immediate contact 
with the inhabitants and resoarces of 
that remote and little known portion of 
the States of North America. 

The northern part of Sonora and the 
northern regions of Ante- American Cali- 
fornia, appear to have been the ancient 
seat of empire and power of that race of 
Indians who afterwards established them- 
selyes in the valley of the city of Mexico; 
from thence they extended themselves 
east to the Gulf of Mexico, south and 
south-east to Nicaragua, Guatemala, Hon- 
duras and Yucatan, and west to the coun- 
tries lying on the Pacific ocean, oompre- 
hended within the present States of Oax- 
aco, Michoaoan and Jalisco. 

The primary accounts of the first men- 
tioned countries appeared in the travels 
of Cabeza de Vaca, in 1540 — ^the second 
in those of de Niza — the thifd by Coron- 
ado — the fourth in the works of the 
Jesuit, Padre de Ribas, in 1645 — but the 
most full of all are from the manuscripts 
of the celebrated Catholic missionary, 
Eusebio Francisco Kulfti or Kino, whose 
account is largely quoted in the laborious 
and excellent work of Yenegas on the 
History of California, published at Mad- 
rid in 1767. 

Eusebio Francisco Kuhn, or, as the 
Californians and Sonoranians call him, 
Kino, appears to have been a (German by 
birth. He studied philosophy and math- 



ematics at the University of Ingoldstadt, 
in the old Electorate of BaTaria, onder 
the learned Jesuit, Professor Henrico 
Shearer, who is known to the literary 
world as an anthor of ability in geogra- 
phy and mathematics. Having devoted 
himself to the study of theology. Kino 
entered into holy orders, and became a 
member of the Society of Jesns ; at which 
time this took place appears not to be 
stated in any of the Spanish works on 
Sonora and California; but he soon dis- 
tinguished himself by his learning, seal, 
industry and capacity; and it seems, 
from certain dates in Yenegas' Califor- 
nia, that he arrived in Mexico as a Mis- 
sionary, about the year 1680. 

Kino first entered into the field of bis 
Sonora labors at tha Mission of Dolores, 
of Alta Pimeria, in 1687 ; and the en- 
ergy, ability, seal, prudence, and mar- 
velous courage he exhibited np to the 
time of his death, in 1710, forms one of 
the most inspiring themes to this day of 
the Spanish race who inhabit that por- 
tion of North Western Mexico, whoee 
lands are bathed by the Sea of Cortex — 
of these latter times it has extended with 
accumulated honor to his memory among 
the English race, now become masters of 
that country of such wonderful fertility, 
salubrity and mineral wealth, and known 
at present throughout the civiliaed world 
as the State of California. 

He is stated to have lefl his Alma 
Mater for America with the highest com- 
mendations from the Professors of that 
institution, and with the most flattering 
recommendations from the Elector of Ba- 
varia. He was well instructed in all the 
exact sciences taught at that period in 
the schools of Europe, and particularly 
learned in the sciences of Cosmography, 
Architecture, Philosophy and Mathemat- 
ics, as well as being an attentive observer 
of all physical facts relating to the remote 
countries in which the best periods of his 
life were passed ; for it is stated by Yen- 



FRAOMENTAKT MEMORIALS OF FATHER KINO. 



505 



egms, from Kinoes manuscript History of 
(he MiflsioDB of Sonera, that he spent 
thirty years of his time in the regions 
aroand the Gulf of California. 

To show the indefatigable and intelli- 
gent eharaeter of the old missionary, it is 
stated that between the years of 1700 
and 1706, he made no less than five expe- 
ditions from the Missions of' Pimeria to 
the riyers Gila and Colorado, and crossed 
orer the latter river in boats made of tale 
baimshee. He first discovered the juno- 
tare of the Gila and Colorado, and aota- 
ally determined the fact of the junction 
of the continent with California, in Octo- 
ber, 1700: the Indians stating at this 
time that it was only ten days journey 
from the river to the Pacific Ocean, and 
showing him ornaments of marine shells 
to prove the truth of their assertions. 
This was a point he had been struggling 
to ascertain ever since his arrival in So- 
nera, so as to send succors by land 
to the missionary establishmento of the 
OaKfomia peninsula. 

The seal and energy of his charaoter 
was shown in his immense labors for eon- 
verting the Pimas, Papagos, Yakis, Opa- 
tas, Gilenos, and the various Indian 
tribes inhabiting the north of Sonora. 
He established Christian villages, built 
chnrehes, laid out fields with grain, fruito 
and vegetables, and stocked the pastures 
with domesUo animals; explored the 
country in every direction ; made careful 
and extensive vocabularies of the Indian 
tongues of his jurisdiction, comprising a 
cireumference of three hundred leagues ; 
assisted vrith the greatest seal and energy 
the Missions of Lower Caltfomia, during 
the perils of their first settlement ; fought 
the Spanish oflieers inch by inch, in their 
attempts to enslave his neophytes to work 
in their mines of gold and silver, and the 
plaeers of pearl oystersl; and by his influ* 
eaoe with the high officials of Mexico, 
procured an order from King Charles the 
second, to forbid for five years after their 



conversion, the employment of the mis- 
sion Indians of Sonora, in any mining 
operation — this cedale was extended 
through his exertions, for twenty-five 
years longer after the 14th of May, 1686. 
In the expedition which sailed from Cha- 
cala, in Sinaloa, for the coast of Lower 
California, on the 18th of March, 1683, 
under the Admiral of the California Isi- 
dro Otendo de Antillon, who was also 
(Governor of Sinaloa; he held a commis* 
sion from the King, as Coemographer to 
the expedition, and acted also as Chap- 
lain to the forces. This expedition num- 
bered over one hundred persons, and 
arrived at the Port of La Pai, where 
Cortes landed in 1536, after a passage of 
fourteen days. The crews attempted to 
make a settlement near this place, and 
Padre Kino to found a mission ; but, the 
difficulties were found to be so great, that 
after spending twelve months time in the 
prosecution of their object, they returned 
disheartened and broken down, to the 
port of Matenchel, which lays a few 
leagues to the south of the river, at the 
mouth of which is situated the present 
town of San Bias ; this latter port became 
the point of debaroation after 17G9, of 
the supplies of the Franciscan missions 
of Upper California, 

After this he appears on the stage 
again as preaching throughout Sinaloa 
and western Mexico, to raise funds from 
the pious to fbund the missions of Cali- 
fbrnia. Meeting with a man of similar 
spirit as himself in Padre Juan Maria 
Salva Tierra, the two commenced under 
great difficulties and expensive obstacles, 
the reduction of the Indians of Califor- 
nia, by the Company of Jesus, to the 
faith and government of the Churoh of 
Rome, for the political empire of the 
monarchy of Spain. He continued to be 
the earnest and oonstent friend of Salva 
Tierra, Piccolo, Ugarto and the other seal- 
ous brethren of his order in 
until the time of his death* 



506 



HUTCHINGS' GAUFOBNIA MAOAZINS. 



This event seeme to have oocurred in 
the year 1710, as intimated in Yenegas' 
California, toI. 2, pp. 107 and 503. Ae 
yet it is not certain at what misrion in 
Sonera he died, or at what date, ae Yene- 
gas gives no authority by which we can 
prove his statement as to the year even. 
But, it appears that after this year, we 
hear very little of his assistance or con- 
nection with his California friends, so 
that it is highly probable that Yenegas 
is right. Where this wonderfol man 
was boried, or what he said or did in 
the last moments of his active and heroic 
life, we are not informed by the historian. 

But his memory remains to this day 
sacred in the recollections of the Indians 
and Spaniards of thePimeria; a country 
so called by the Mexicans, after the Pima 
Indians, including the regions of the 
present Gadsden Pundiase, south as far 
down as the Port of Gnaymas, and east 
to the longitude of 110^ west of Green- 
wich, or the line of the rivet San Jose, 
which empties into the Gulf of California, 
at the aforesaid port. 

The redaction of the Indians of the 
southern half of Lower California, was 
completely effected by the Jesuits up to 
the year 1767, when they were expelled, 
by order of the Government of Spain, 
together with all the members of their 
order in the Yiceroyalty of Mexico. This 
important epoch in the history of Califor- 
nia, followed from the decree of Charles 
the third, dated the 2d of April, 1767, at 
the instigation of Count de Aranda; a 
statesman of Spain whose name is con- 
nected with some of the most important 
acts relating to the political history of the 
Spanish colonial Empire. 

The Yice Roy of Mexico dispatched 
Don Gaspar de Portola, afterwards Gov- 
ernor of Alta California, to take posses- 
sion of the Jesuit Establishments of the 
lower peninsula, and the Je^its were af- 
terwards conveyed to San Bias in the 
same vessel which brought back to Loret- 



to, Father Junipero Serra and his new 
company of priests. 

At the date of th«r expulsion the Jes- 
uits had fourteen complete establishments 
in the peninsula, with two others not 
yet well settled. The most northern of 
these was that of San Ignado^ in the 
country of the Coohimib tribe, in latitude 
28^ or about half way to San Diego from 
Cape St Lucas. This was founded in 
1728 by Padre Juan Bantista Luyando, 
a wealthy Mexican, who built the mission 
and christianised the Indians with his 
own funds ; (?) by unremitting and ardu- 
ous labors, he established nine Chriatian 
viUageSf and formed the richest and the 
best cultivated and regulated eetablish- 
ment in Lower California. We are in- 
formed by Yenegas, on p. 417, toL 2 of 
his history, that Luyando broke down his 
health from hard labor and exposure, and 
retired from his mission about 1740. The 
fame of this old priest and his mission, 
is still patent in Lower California: many 
of the people of that country have inform, 
ed the writer since 1848, that the mission 
Church is still a splendid one, and by far 
the best remaining in the peninsula; so 
well constructed were the entire build- 
ings, enclosures, gardens and other fix- 
tures of the establishment, that they 
remain in pristine splendor even at this 
date, over one hundred years from their 
eonsttuotion. The valley in which it is 
situated, is said to be one of the most fer- 
tile, salubrious and picturesque, to be 
found in the whole mountain range of 
the Califomias. 

In a conversation we had a feir weeks 
ago, v^ith an intelligent Sonoranian, who 
is a native of AUar, in the north of that 
State, which b one of the principal 
towns of the ancient Ptmeria, he informs 
us that the accounts given by Yenegas, 
of the labors of Padre Kino, are not at all 
exaggerated, and that his memory is still 
freshly preserved in those countries with 
reverence and affection. The description 



FRAGMENTARY MEMORIALS OF FATHER KINO. 



507 



bj KinOy of the pbysical features of those 
regions and their resources, mineral, ag- 
ricultural and pastoral, and of their In- 
dian tribes, is the most faithful, full, and 
reliable, even to this day ; one hundred 
and fiftj years after Uie date of his 
aoooants. 

This informant makes us aware of a 
fact which we have not met with before 
in anj Spanish or other work of history 
on the countries under consideration, 
Tis: — the actual place of sepulture of the 
Apostolical missionary and father of the 
Jesuit establishments of Alta Pimeria, 
and B^a California. 

It appears that he was buried at the 
Mission Church of San Antonio, at the 
Pueblo of Oquitoa, which is situated six 
miles np the river Oquitoa from Altar ; 
and in the midst of a fertile valley of 
grains, of excellent quality, such as 
wheat, maize and barley ; and of fruits, 
as figs, grapes, sugarcane, pomegranates, 
oranges, olives, &c. The river Oquitoa, 
is a branch of the San Ignacio, which 
emptica into the Qulf about one hundred 
Diiles aooth of the mouth of the Colorado, 
as delineated in Herman Ehrenberg's 
new map of the Oadsden purchase — San 
Francisco, 1858. 

At this church, which was built by 
Padre Kino^ and is still in good preser* 
▼ation, his remains lie buried. There is 
also a tablet in the building erected to 
his memory, describing his death and 
heroic services in the cause of the gen- 
tiles of Pimeria and California. The 
people of the parish, which is stated to 
contain over six thousand souls of the 
gnUe de rticoa, still preserve the numer> 
otts traditions of his life and labors ; and 
his aeCbns, habits, customs and method 
of living, form the staple moral influence 
uf this community in particular, but 
more or less shared in by all the popula- 
tions inhabiting the old Jesuit villages of 
the Pimeria. 
Oqnttoa has, or had, several mills for 



grinding grain. The wheat of this iior- 
tion of Sonora, and of the valleys higher 
up towards the first mesas of the Mexi- 
can plateau, is said to be of a haidclr, 
sweeter and finer quality than any other 
species of this gnun to be found on the 
north American continent — it is also said 
to keep longer, and the bread made from 
it is of a more sustentaiive quality than 
the other varieties cultivated in Mexico. 
Oquitoa, also contains within its jurisdio- 
tion several silver mines. 

Of the existence of the portrait of 
Kino, we have no accounts. Of what 
place in Germany this remarkable man 
was a native of, we have not been made 
aware. Of his equally sealous and lar 
borious companion Juan Maria Salva 
Tierra, we are informed by Yenegas, p. 
286, vol. 2, that he died at the city of 
Quadalajara, of an attack of the stone, 
on the 17th of July, 1717, and wrs bur- 
ied at the chapel of our Lady of Loretto, 
in that city. The portrait of this Call* 
fomia Apostle, still exists in good preser- 
vation, in the Mission church of the 
town of Loretto, in lower California, as 
we are informed by several nativee of 
that place. Padre Salva Tierra had filled 
the office of Rector of the College of San 
Gregoria, in Guadalajara, about the year 
1693. In this college there still existe a 
painting by him of the Virgin of Loretto, 
surrounded by a crowd of his kneeling 
converts of California Indians. He had 
entered on the spiritual conquest of these 
gentiles in 1697, ho that he spent twenty 
years of his life in that country. He had 
also filled the office of Provincial of the 
Society of Jesus, in the Yiceroyalty of 
Mexico, and that of Yisitador of the Mis- 
sion of Sinaloa and Sonora. It appean 
also from Yen^as, that one of the right 
hand helpers of Padre Salva Tierra, was 
Don Fernando de Lancaster, Duke of 
Abrantes and a descendant of the Royal 
families of Castile, England and Portu^ ; 
he was Yiceroy of New Spain in 1711. 



508 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



The Pimeria Alta now belonging to our 
Government, is probably one of the rich- 
est countries in the world, in the valuable 
minerals of silver, gold and copper— the 
country is highly salubrious; the air 
pure ;- and the soil extremely fertile where 
water can be had for irrigation. It pro- 
duces most of the fruits of the tropicsr 
and the entire catalogue of grains and 
fruits of Italy and the countries of the 
Mediterranean. It contains as Padre 
Kino states, fertile plains for pasturing 
all domestic animals — the temperature 
off the coast, where it is extremely varied 
and hot, is described by him as benign 
and equable— the whole country accord- 
ing to his account is metalliferous; in 
some parts he says, exist mountains of 
silver in masses equal to those of Potosi 
in Peru. These accounts written about 
1700, are entirely confirmed by the pres- 
ent inhabitants of Sonera, and by several 
gentlemen from California, of intelligence 
and education, who visited the coun- 
try in 1854 and 1855, and also by the 
officers of the United States, who were 
sent out by our Government to survey the 
new line of territory as sold under the 
treaty of December, 1853, by Santa Anna, 
for ten millions of dollars. From the 
report of these officers, h would seem 
that the Alta Pimeria contains the short- 
est and most level line for a continental 
railroad of all our territories. All this 
country wants to make it prosperous, is 
the protection of an enlightened govern- 
ment. 

We come now more particularly to 
speak of the present and former tribes of 
Indians, whose abiding place is among 
the Valleys and mountains of this mar- 
velous land. What we have to say is 
simply suggestive, and collected from 
reading and personal enquiry. In the 
year 1751, as Yenegas states, there were 
twenty-five missions of the Jesuits, from 
Guaymas to the Rio Gila; or, within a 
circumference of three hundred and fifty 



leagues, and covering the lands of the 
Yakis, Opatas, Topas, Teguiamas, Pimas, 
upper and lower, Seris, Papagos, Heguts, 
Tepoca, Coco Maricopas and Gilenos. 

It appears from Yenegas, that in 1751, 
the Jesuits had forty-one mission es- 
tablishments within a circumference of 
1050 miles, which included the present 
tribes of the Opatas, Topas, Yakis, Tegui- 
mas, Pimas, upper and lower Seris, 
Tepocas, Guaymas and Sobaypuris; ex- 
tending along the first spurs of the 
Sierra Madre, which bound Sonora on 
the East ; the line of the river Gila, from 
the East, where it first flows into level 
lands to its junction with the Colorado 
at the present Fort Yuma; from the 
mouth of the Gila, South, and bounded 
by the main Colorado, until the turbu- 
lent waters of the latter empty into the 
Gulf of California ; then following down 
the Gulf to the River Yaqui, or Hiaqui, 
and from thence South-east to the Sierra 
Madre again. The North-eastern boun- 
daries of this country, from the earliest 
times of the Conquistadores, were inhab- 
ited by the Apaches, who have been from 
first to last, the deadly foe of the half 
civilized Indians of the country, as well 
as of the Jesuit establishments of the 
region in question — ^to this day they rav- 
age the very same lands and have com- 
pletely ruined in a commercial sense, the 
larger portion of the State of Sonora. — 
Yenegas says, that the Apaches ravaged 
the country for seventy years previous to 
the year 1751, and depopulated several 
missions. They were and are still at 
deadly enmity with all the Indian tribes 
of the Pimeria and Sonora. 

In 1731, there were seven new missions 
founded in Alta Pimeria, as follows: — 

1. Nuestro Senora d^ Dolores, with 
two out pueblos. 

2. San Ignacio, with two out pueblos. 

3. Tibutama, with nine out pueblos. 

4. Caborca, with four out pueblos. 

5. Suamoa, with many out pueblos. 



THE SAILOR'S LAST APPEAL.— HABIT. 



509 



6. Qaebabavi, with Spanish families 
and many pueblos. 

7. Saxk ZaTier del Bao, with many 
poeblos. 

^■^^— ^»^— ^^^^^ I ^am^m^^^mm pal ■ m ■ » i ■ ^a^^— ■■ ^ 

THE SAILOR'S LAST APPEAL. 



BT J. P. OARLTOH. 



Then come with me, my loTely May, 

Beyond the deep bine sea ; 
In yonder ship we'll sail away, 

And rerel fancy free. 

My lore for thee ehall know no bounds, 

A sailor's heart is thine ; 
For then I'll hear those joyous sounds, 

My peerless maid divine. 

O ! wilt thou be a seaman's bride, 

And cross the briny deep ? 
The ocean then in peace we'll ride, 

And rock our woes to sleep. 

HABIT. 

THS UX PAIB8 Of aPSCTACLU. 
BT O. T. 8. 

An habits gather hj aiueeD degree*, 

As brovks make ilvera, rlTen run to ecM. 

Davon. 

** Man," says Seneca, " is a bundle of 
habits" : and the immortal bard has said 
that — 

** Thty can almost ehange the eonrse of natare. 
And eiUier carb Uie devil, or throv him oat, 
Witti voiMlroas poteae/.'* 

For more than half that we do, the on- 
ly reason that we can assign is, ** that we 
have always done if Talk of slavery I 
What slavery is lika that of habit T We 
ean have but little idea of the power with 
which habit lords it over us, until we at- 
tempt to break tho chain which it has 
forged for us ; we then find, to our aston- 
ishment how strong it is* Few have ev- 
er property estimated the tremendous 
powor of habit for good or evil. 

** I Cnist everything, under Qod/' said 



Lord Brougham, ** to habit ; upon which, 
in all all ages, the law-giver, as well as 
the schoolmaster, has mainly placed his 
reliance ; habit, which makes everything 
easy, and casts all difficulties upon a de- 
viation from a wonted course. Make so- 
briety a habit, and intemperance will be 
hateful; make prudence a habit, and 
reckless profligacy and waste will be 
looked upon as most atrocious crimes. 
Give a child the habit of sacredly regard- 
ing truth, of carefully respecting the 
property of others, and he will just as 
likely think of rushing into an element 
in which he cannot breathe, as of lying, 
or cheating, or stealing.'' 

Some amusing stories are told of the 
effects of habit on different individuals. 

A blind man in Edinburgh could find 
his way to any part of the city, and there 
was no lane or alley so obscure, but that 
he was able to explore it, as readily as 
though he had the best of seeing eyes. 
A gentleman noticed that in these ex- 
plorations he always carried a bunch of 
small keys in his hand, which he kept 
twirling between his fingers. One day 
he happened to lay the keys down ; the 
gentleman picked them up, and as soon 
as our blind friend missed them, he be- 
came confused and lost his way, and had 
to be guided home. Thus much of his 
power of memory depended on his habit 
of always twirling a bunch of keys be- 
tween his fingers. 

We once heard of a preacher who could 
only preach with the thumb and forefinger 
of his left hand clutched through the bot- 
tom hole of his coat, a waggish servant 
sewed up the button hole and the preach- 
er got stuck at the beginning of his dia- 
course, and ha'i to dismiss his audience 
with only half of a sermon, and all for 
want of a button hole to clutch his fingers 
in. 

But the most amusing anecdote is told 
of a gentleman in one of the New England 
states. The habit this gentleman had was 



510 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



one of frequently handling his specthcles. 

He was a member of the legislature of 
his State, and when he rose to speak, he 
would first place his spectacles on his 
nose, suffer them to remain there a min- 
ute or two, throw them up and on his fore- 
head, and finally fold them up and lay 
them before him on his desk. 

One day a very important question 
came up in the legislature, and the fidg- 
ety member commenced a speech in op- 
position to the proposed measure. A 
friend to the project, who was somewhat 
of a wag, determined that he would spoil 
the effect of what the honorable gentle- 
man had to say. So before the speaker 
entered the hoase, after a recess, he pro- 
vided himself with a dozen pair of spec- 
tacles. The member commenced his 
speech with his usual ability ; but a few 
moments elapsed before he was at work 
with his spectacles, and finally got them 
upon his forehead. 

At this juncture our wag, who stood 
ready, laid another pair on the desk be- 
fore the speaker. These were taken, and 
gradually gained a place on his forehead 
by the side of the others. A third, fourth, 
and Jifih were disposed of in the same 
manner. A smile settled on the faces of 
the honorable members, which gradually 
lighted up into a grin, and at last, when 
the speaker had warmed up into one of 
his most patriotic and elegant sentences, 
he deposited a ^ixM pair with the others, 
which caused a long and loud peal of 
laughter from all parts of the room. 
Presidents, clerks, members, all joined 
in the chorus. The speaker looked round 
in astonishment at this curious interrupt 
tion, but, raising his hand, he grasped 
the six pair of spectacles, and the whole 
force of the joke flashed upon his mind. 
He dashed the glasses upon the floor, 
took his hat and left the hall. The bill 
was passed by a triumphant mtgority, 
probably on account of the gentleman's 
silly and useless habit. 



OLD MUSIC. 



These waking hours, how dreary 1 

I sing me once again, 
To soothe the spirit weary. 

Some dear old-fashioned strain 
From out the cherished numbers 

Of olden minstrelsy, 
That fills my dreamy slumbers 

With thee, and only thee. 

1 tune thy lute to gladness — 

There is soothing in its spell ; 
The heart with cause for sadness 

Loves olden music well ; 
With passion's gust of feeling 

Accompany the strain, 
As, o'er my spirit stealing, 

Old hopes revive again. 

Old music is endearing, 

And memories of old 
To me are full as cheering 

As when first heard and told. 
1 let us prize them dearer, 

Those relics of the past, 
Like links that draw us nearer, 

In friendship to the last. 

Like shells, that of the ocean 

Their natal sounds retain. 
My sonl with fond emotion 

Fills to some olden strain ; 
And thine the power to measure 

The bliss that these impart, 
Shall I in secret pleasure 

Still cherish them at heart ? 
Stockton, 8. H. T. 

AMELIA OLDENBUBGH. 



Sr CLOE. 



[Oontlnncd from page 4S7«] 

He was in haste to become better ae* 
quainted with Misa Oldenburgh. An 
opportunity soon o£fered for him to see 
her, as Mr. Dundaa gave him a card of 
invitation to his wedding. Philips gladly 
accepted it, in hopes of again seeing 
Amelia and spending an evening in her 
society. The desired evening «l length 



AMELIA OLDENBURGH. 



511 



•rriTed, and Mr. Philips, in his gayest 
eostame, arriyed at the mansion. He 
was welcomed by Mr. Tresto with more 
than ordinary cordiality. A large oom- 
pany had already assembled, and as he 
was presented to the ladies in the draw- 
ing>room, Miss Mary Tresto acted as 
beaten, and received him with many be- 
witching smiles. Eyerything was in the 
most gorgeous style^ Miss Mary's taste- 
fal drees became her tall figure, and Mr. 
Phitipfl could not but giye an abundance 
of agreeable flattery to her Tanity. He 
had particularly interested her on sereral 
occasions, although thmr acquaintance 
was limited. She was never seen before 
in such a glow of spirits, and was quite 
the belle of the evening. Mr. Philips 
was watching with nervous impatience 
to get a glimpse of Miss Oldenbnrgh ; 
but, in this he was doomed to disappoint- 
ment, as she was not one of the party. — 
The marriage ceremony and the attending 
congratulations were at length through 
with ; the hall was now lighted up and 
the music struck up for a dance. The 
happy pair took the lead ; Mr. Philips 
gave his arm to Miss Mary, and they 
were soon whirling in the g^ddy rounds 
of the waits. At length they tired and 
seated themselves for a chat. Unable 
longer to endure his suspense, Mr. Phil- 
ips tamed to Miss Mary and enquired 
for Miss (Mdenburgh. 

''Why, are you an acquaintance of 
hers, Mr. Philips?" asked Miss Mary. 
'* No, I never saw her lovely face but once, 
Mias Mary; but I am quite captivated 
with her beauty I assure you.'' 

'* In love with a servant I quite a com- 
pliment to your taste, as a gentleman, 
Mr. Philips I " 

"A servant in your house, did you say, 
Mias Mary? There is some mistake, 
surely." 

** Not the least mistake in the world," 
replied Miss Mary, with a proud toss of 
her head; "and I can't for the life of me 



imagine what made you think her other 
than a servant in our house. I assure 
you, Mr. Philips, no lady of such vulgar 
manners as Miss Oldenburgh, would be 
admitted to be at the mansion only in the 
capacity of a servant" 

Mr. Philips bit his lips witii vexation. 

** Perhaps yon would like to see this 
paragon," said Mary, observing bis per- 
plexity. '< Shall I have her called ? " 

" No, do not trouble yourself," replied 
Mr. Philips, rising in disgust with his 
arrogant tormentor. Mary saw that she 
had gone too far, and she redoubled her 
efforts to keep him near her; but, regard- 
less of her endeavors, he moved off to 
another group of ladies. He entertained 
them but a short time, and then Mary 
lost sight of him altogether. 

Mr. Philips was in no very enviable 
mood. He was not prepared to hear that 
Amelia was a servant; still be could not 
withdraw his thoughts from her; he re- 
gretted having attended the party. There 
was now nothing in the gay assembly 
that could afford him amusement or plea- 
sure ; he began to feel it irksome, and to 
be rid of some clamorous friends, he 
walked into the garden, which was taste- 
fully arranged near the house. A large 
grape arbor stood in one secluded comer 
of the garden ; the grapes were still hang^- 
ing in purple clusters thickly over the 
arbor;' the moon shone brightly, and gave 
light enough to make a walk in such a 
spot delightful. Breaking off a nice 
bunch of the grapes, he seated himself 
on a benoh in the arbor, and was eating 
the delicious frait He had not occupied 
the seat long, before^he observed a lady 
approaching the very bench on which he 
sat. '* Ruth I "she called. He had heard 
that voice before — it was Amelia's I How 
beautiful she looked in the surprise of the 
moment 1 Mr. Philips seised her hand, 
and declared that he had been looking 
for her all the evening. Amelia recog- 
nised him immediately, and oonld not 



512 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



disguise the pleasure she felt in the un- 
expected meeting. 

"You are looking more beautiful than 
when I first saw you, Amelia, and you 
have been constantly in my thoughts 
since that time. I have been quite 
disappointed in not seeing you among the 
guests at the wedding.'' 

Amelia was about to reply to Mr. 
Philips, as Ruth made her appearance. 

** W here have you been, Ruth ? I have 
been looking for you." 

*' You appear to haye agreeable com- 
pany without me," said Ruth, with a 
smile. 

*Mr. Philips, Miss Ruth Mulford," 
said Amelia. 

" This is a beautiful evening, ladies ; 
shall I have the pleasure of walking with 
you in this little paradise of a garden V 
They went to the greenhouse, and Mr. 
Philips gathered a boquet of flowers for 
each of his pleasant companions. 

"Is this the gentleman you met in 
your walk, the other morning, Amelia ?" 
asked Ruth. 

"The same," said Amelia; "and I 
found him here this evening, eating 
grapes." 

" Yes ; and though such nice fruit was 
quite a treat, there was a greater pleas- 
ure in store for me. I found Miss Old- 
enburgh in the arbor. That arbor is a 
propitious friend to me, this evening," 
replied Mr. Philips. 

Ruth reminded Amelia that it was get- 
ting late, and they took a reluctant leave 
of Mr. Philips, and returned into the 
house. The object of his visit to the 
mansion was now accomplished, and Mr. 
Philips ordered his carriage and returned 
home. 

Mr. Dundas secured his wife's mar- 
riage portion, and sailed for Europe. 
Miss Mary Tresto was quite in love with 
Mr. Philips, and was quite disappointed 
when he came to bid her good night. He 
had said enough about Amelia to excite 



her jealousy. " Where could he have 
seen her?- She had better not come in 
between me and Mr. Phillips! I will 
teach her better manners. By the by, I 
am so very sorry I did not get more of 
his sentiments relative to her. 0, now I 
know how I can get all the information 
I desire. I can question her about him, 
and I shall soon know all that I wish. 
Amelia is quite a formidable rival ; every 
one speaks of her beauty. Captain Tres- 
to ought to have gone to dust for giving 
her the education she has. Philips ap- 
pears to be aware of her accomplisbmentB. 
I will do nothing further at present, 
until I know more correctly how matters 
stand, and until a favorable opportunity 
offers to question Amelia; then I can more 
fully determine the best course to pursue." 

Mary did not wait many days after 
forming this resolution, before she, by 
way of excuse, took up a dress for Ruth 
and Amelia to make. She was unusually 
polite and considerate in her manner to- 
wards Amelia. Ruth and Amelia were 
both quite surprised at her mild soft 
words, so unlike her general deportment 

"I declare, Amelia, how beautiful 
your black dress looks! It sets so grace- 
fully. Your clothes are peculiarly becom- 
ing, my dear; dont you think so Ruth?" 

" Yes, Mary ; no one that has any taste 
in the matter of dress, can help admir- 
ing Amelia's simple yet tasteful manner 
of wearing her clothing; but, Amelia 
does not deserve all the praise. Her ele- 
gant figure is grace itself, and her face is 
one of uncommon loveliness ; with these 
advantages, it takes but litUe to add to 
make a complete toilet." 

" You are quite a flatterer, Ruth," said 
Mary, rather provoked at Ruth's oompli- 
ment to Amelia. "I suppose Amelia 
thinks her beauty has made quite a con- 
quest with Mr. Philips?" 

" No, Mary, you are mistaken," replied 
Amelia. "It would be sadly presump- 
tuous to suppose a gentleman in love with 



AMSUA OLDSNBURGH. 



5M 



wbose ftoe I n«ver saw bat twioe." 

'' When WM that, pray r 

** I met him in a walk, and I saw him 
the evening Emma was married.'' 

H aiy endeavorod to hide her real mo- 
iive8» and appeared to be angry with Mr. 
Philips, doolaring him to be a man of no 
priaeiple. 

''Amelia," taid she, ''Mr. Philips is 
only seeing yoar min; any sensible 
person can see that, and you mnst drop 
this Ibolish tirting with him. I think 
Rath onght to be a warning to yon. — 
What wonld Mr. Philips want with a girl 
of yoar standing? It is preposterons, 
and for yoar own good I forbid yoar see- 
ing him again." 

Saying this, Mary went to her mother, 
with her badget of news. 

''It is too bad, mother, that this poor 
wreteh of a girl shoald stand in the way 
of my happioess ; " and Mary wept tears 
of bitter disappointment " Philips lores 
Amelia, I see it" 

''Qive yourself no more nneasiness, 
Mary, I have managed more diffioolt mat- 
ters timn this. Now, dry yoor eyes; he 
alhtJl never marry Amelia, The thing 
is easily done. Amelia, I confess, is a 
formidable rival, with her beaaty and 
aooottplbhments. Captain Tresto ought 
to have died Ibr the erime of edaeating 
this little beggar, to be in the way of her 
betters/' 

''Well, Ma; ywi see to her, will you; 
watohher and him toot I leave idl to 
yoo, mother; I know yon will not see me 
disappointed." 

Rnlh and Amelia sat bnsily sewing, 
some time after Mary left the room ; at 
length Ruth sigfeed so deeply, that Ame- 
lia looked «p at her. RoUi was pale as 
a ghost, and as fnoomf ai as if she were 
to be beheaded^ 

''Why are yoo so eerrowfal, my friend!" 
said Amelia. 

"I do'nt know; perhiqis I have the 
biW" 



oessant sewing; it's enough to kfll the 
strongest, mnoh less yoa. Yoaf pale 
cheek pains me to look at it RuHi, I 
hope I am a heiress, just for your sake." 

"You an heiress, Amelia! What 
reason have yoo to think of such an ab- 
surdity; are you insaoet " 

" No, Rath ; I am as rational as I ever 
was in my life; perhaps more so." 

Amelia arose and went to her room, 
and returned wiUi the locket in her hand ; 
opening it, she handed Ruth a piece of 
paper that she took out of the locket :-*- 
" Read it, Roth, and then tell me if there 
is not a ohance of my being an heiress." 

Ruth took the paper, and being an eab> 
cellent German scholar, she read and v^ 
read the paper. " How did you come by 
this, Ameliar" asked Ruth, almcat 
doubting her own sanity. 

" Why, my friend ; it vms given so me 
by an old man, on board that fated vessel^ 
before my parents were drowned. I r^ 
member the man and what he said» quite 
distinctly; much more distinctly than the 
death of my parents. Their deaths I re- 
member but very little — how it happened 
or what was the cause." 

"WeU, Amelia, yon hod better take 
good care of this paper ; for it appears to 
be a will to your mother, made by an 
uncle. It may be of much value to you. 
You had better not say anything to Mr. 
Tresto's ftunily about it, for I do not think 
sny of the family too honest I know it 
to my sorrow. I have reason to believe 
that I have been grossly swindled by 
Mr. Tresto." 

Ruth handed Amelia the locket, and 
Amelia pot it away with a conscious be> 
lief that it was valuable. 

"What do yoo think was Miss Maiy's 
object in cautioning me against Mr. 
Plulips, Ruthr 

"Jealousy, I think. §he lovss Mr. 
Philips, Amelia; I ooold see it in her 
countenance when she was talking lo yoo* 
Believe me, Amelia; yoo must be veiy 



914 



HUT0HIMO8' OALnrORNIA MAGAZINE. 



<' No, Buth, that is not it» it is this in- 
cautious how you aet, and what you say. 
You would be in jeopardy every day, 
should you be preferred by Mr. Philips 
to Miss Ma^ry." 

While Ruth and Amelia were discuss- 
ing this perplexing subject, Miss Mary 
mnd her mother were looking over letters 
that had just been brought from the 
office ; among them was a letter for Ame- 
lia. Mary snatched up the letter, then 
turning the key in the door, she hastily 
dcTOured its contents. Her lips moved in 
painful anger, as she read line after lite. 

'*What is it, my dear Mary?" said 
Madam Tresto, in ahirm at Mary's agita- 
tion. 

Mary crushed the letter in her hand, 
gnashing her teeth in her furious rage. 
" Read it, mother, and then you will be 
as angry as I am T' 

Her mother took the crumpled letter 

and read it : — 

" DsAR Miss OLDBNBVftOR — Pardon the 
liberty I have taken in writing to you ; 
but the interest I feel in you will not 
permit me to remain silent. There are 
reasons why I do not wish to visit you at 
Mr. Tresto's, which you must pardon me 
for not explaining. Permit me, my dear 
girl, to say that my affection for you is 
more than for all the world beside. Be 
candid with me, dear Amelia : is there 
hope for me T "Will you ever be mine T 
Write me soon, as my suspense will be 
intolerable until I hear from you. I re- 
main your devoted W. Philips." 

"Well, well," said Madam Tresto, 
thb is quite hasty. I rather think we 
^•iU put a stop to his haste." 

" He shall know what it is to love 
without hope," said Mary, allowing her 
resentment to absorb all her violent feel- 
ings. Her mother was astonished at 
Mary's ungovernable passion for Mr. 
Philips. She knew that Mary could not 
bear to be disappointed or contradicted 
in any desire she might have ; now, there 
was one dear wish that would swallow 
up all others, and this she oould not think 



of giving up* The fatal letter she had 
just read had nearly driven her to mad- 
ness ; love and hatred were vicing with 
each other, striving for the mastery. 

" Amelia loves him, mother," said Ma- 
ry, *' but she shall never know that she 
has had a proposal £rom him. I irill 
strangle her before she shall triumph 
over me, and marry Philips. The little 
beggar I to presume to interfere with my 
dearest feelings I" 

'<Mary»" said Madam Tresto^ "it 
would not be wi^ to strangle Amelia. 
There are easier means of managing the 
matter than that." 

" Well, something has got to be done 
with her, or I will be her death," said 
Mary, in an angry tone. 

<* To murder her would only defeat 
yourself and bring destruction on your 
family. I will now give you my plan. 
If she were married to some other per- 
son, Mr. Philips would have to give her 
up. She must be compelled to take this 
step, if she wUl not take it willingly/' 
said Madam Tresto. 

" You are correct^ mother. This is a 
capital plan, if it could be arranged as 
you say ; but I don't see how it can be 
brought about." 

" Well, there is Sara Dougla8,who keeps 
Ruth's child over in Maryland — we have 
had to pay her largely for keep^ig the 
child, these six years ; she has^ maio. 
tained herself and brother from this 
source. Now she has a proud heart, but 
is willing and obliging, and I think we 
could prevail on her and her brother to 
do anything they could, if well paid for 
it. Jesse Douglas is upon the whole a ine 
young man, well educated, and would be 
a very good match for Amelia. Now, if 
Jesse Douglas will many Amelia, and gQ 
to England, or out west, we will give him 
a nice start in the world ; and we must 
make some arrangements for them to 
l^e Ruth's child with them." 

Mr. Tresto now came into the loom. 



AMEUA OLDEKBURQU. 



515 



where hia wife and daaghter were mak- 
ing large calcalations relatiTe to Amelia. 
Madam Treeto made him acquainted with 
the new amngements that she and Mary 
had heen talking of. Mr. Treeto bad for 
some time been anxione to have Rnth's 
child at a greater dlBtanee ; there were 
Bome things in Ruth's affiurs that he 
dreaded to haye oome to light, and he 
waa confident that if Rnth knew where 
her child was, she woold see the child's 
father, and then all his Tillainj woold 
be disooTered. Bnt, as it was, she did 
nol know bat that the child was under 
hia lather's care, and she also believed 
him to wish her to forget that any rela- 
iioaahip existed. Mr. Treeto knew that 
Rath felt that she had been shamefully 
treated by the father of her child, and 
as loag as he could manage to keep her 
tgnoranty matters would remain quiet 
With these things harrowing up his 
mind, Mr. Tresto entered into his 'wife's 
plmnsy with a determination to have them 
mcoomplisbed. 

There was no time to be lost, so he 
made a few hasty arrangements, and set 
uat for Maryland. He bad a pleasant 
little journey to Mr. Douglas's. When he 
called at the house. Miss Sara was alone, 
as her brother had gone to a little town 
not far distant, te secure a place of busi- 
ness. 

'* I am quite sorry my brother is not at 
home, Mr. Tresto," said Sara, noticing 
bis uneasiness. 

'* So am I, Sara, for I have some im- 
portant business to transact with him." 

*' Indeed," replied Sara, who was more 
like Jesse's mother than his sister; ** per- 
haps I could be of some assistance. At 
aay rate, I would like to know what it is 
that yon have or wish to hare to do with 
my teother." 

-Well, Sara," said Mr. Tresto, "I 
don't know bnt it would be best for me 
to oonault you;" and he made her ao- 
qoainted with the olyeot of his visit, col- 



oring his story to suit his purpose. ** I 
will give Jesse three thousand dollars to 
marry Amelia, and you are to keep little 
Philip into the bargain. What say you, 
Sara, to that?" 

" I will do all I can to persuade my 
brother, Mr. Tresto. 

** Well, madam, you can have until to- 
morrow to make up your mind. If you 
can not, why I know others that will 
gladly accept the bargain." 

Saying this, he bade her good night, 
and returned to the hotel. 

Poor Sara I to her this was a sore temp- 
tation. She had been well bred, by 
wealthy parents, but, when she attained 
the age of sixteen, her father fiuled, and 
in a fit of insanity committed suicide. 
Her mother had died previously to the 
failure. Jesse wss eight years younger 
than herself; she had struggled with 
poverty, and had managed to educate her 
brother out of her own earnings. Jesse 
was a fine boy, always rather delicate, 
yet sprightly ; ever at the head of his 
class. Sara was proud of her brother, 
and was as solicitous of his advancement 
as if she were his mother. Jesse was an 
obedient boy, never giving his sister any 
unnecessary trouble ; he was now just 
twenty-one years of age, and anxious to 
do something to help Sara, who had used 
all the money she could get in his educa- 
tion. She was anxiously watching for 
his return, full of fear and hope. 

'* If he gets that place of book-keeper, 
we can live without accepting this bar- 
gain of Mr. Trssto's. Dear Jesse! I 
would feel dreadfully to see you unhap- 
py 1 If I had not been so poor and de- 
pendent, I would have ordered hin o«l 
of the house. It was a downright in- 
sult." And she drew a chair to the 
window, and through tears watohed for 
Jesse. Presently she heard his footstepe, 
and met him at the door. 
'* Bid you get the place, Jesse t" 
*<Ko, sister; I have had all my walk 



A16 



HUTCHINGS' OALIfORNIA MAOAZINE. 



for nothing ; and, worse Ihan all, I am 
quite diseouraged." 
, Sara now wept afreeh. 

"What is the matter, eisiw/' said 
Jesse, kissing her affectionately. "Don't 
feel so cast down/' 

"Mr. Tresto has been here, brother, 
and he has proposals for you." 

" What, for me to murder some one, I 
should think, by your looks I " 

" No, brother, but nearly as bad. He 
wishes you to marry a girl against her 
will, and keep little Philip. He says he 
will giye you three thousand dollars to 
do it." 

" Well, I should think itVas a fimny 
way to get married." 

"Ton can have only until to-morrow to 
make up your mind. Isn't it awful, 
brother ?" 

"Yes, rather disagreeable business, 
marrying in this manner. What does 
Mr. Tresto expect to gain by this singu- 
lar transaction 7 He is a grand rascal, 
Sara, I am certain of that." 

" Tes, brother, and he wishes us to be 
made tools of, to carry out his yillainy. 
Ho will take little Philip away if we do 
not accept his offer, and vou know, Jes- 
se, this is all our dependence at present 
for a liying. What shall we do V 

"Qo to bed, dear Sara, and in the 
morning we will talk the matter over. 
May-be Mr. Tresto will give me a better 
bargain than I imagine." 

Sara retired with a ftad heart. She 
went to bed and wet her pillow with her 
tears. Poor girl! She imagined her 
brother on a precipice of destructbn, un- 
able to extricate himself. 

Jesse did not retire, but sat in uneasy 
and troubled thought. His sister's pri- 
Tations and incessant care for allying 
abnoat determined Jesse to run the risk 
of accepting Mr. Tresto^s offbr. " I would 
almost do anything fbr my dear, unselfish 
Sara. She has labored inoessantly for 



me, and shall I not do something for her 
sake ? Three thousand dollars wfll give 
us quite a little start in the west, and as 
for this girl, after we are married she can 
do as she pleases — ^liye with me or five 
alone." 

He was persuading himself that he was 
justifiable in this questionable course^ 
when the oock crew for daylight. He 
started to his feet, rubbed his eyes, and 
then took a short walk. The early re- 
freshing morning air reriyed his drowsy 
spirits, and by the time he got book to 
the house, he determined to aeoept Mr. 
Tresto's offer. He made Sara a fire in 
her little kitchen. She was soon np^ 
and their frugal meal was soon eaten. 
They had just returned to the parlor, 
when the bell tingle announced acalL 
Mr. Tresto was admitted, and Jeeae in- 
voluntarily shrank from touching his ex- 
tended band. Mr. Tresto took a seat 
near Sara. 

**Well, haye you consulted oyer my 
proposals with your brother, Bfiss Sara?" 
demanded Mr. Tresto, impatiently. 

"Yes," replied Jesse, "I haye con- 
cluded to accept your three thousand dol- 
lars and marry the girl; what is her 
name ?" 

" Amelia Oldenburgh ; and she is a 
beauty, I can tell you," said Mr. Tresto. 

" And as for little Philip," replied Sar 
ra, " I would rather keep him than not, 
as I haye become much attached to him, 
and it would be hard to part with him." 

" You must also agree to go either back 
to England or out west. You must 
go secretly. IJet no one know where you 
ore going," added Mr. Tresto. 

Jesse agreed to all, and Mr. Tresto 
promised to be at Mr. Doaglaai's in 
three weeks with Amelia. Handing Jee- 
see fiye hundred dollars to bind the bar- 
gain, Mr. Tresto took leave of the Dong- 
las' and returned home. 

[7b 5« tfonHiMwrf:] 



ADYENTURSS OF OAPT. FLORBNCE AND PARTY. 



617 



HOME-GATHERING SONG. 

BT 0. T. 8PS0AT. 

We «re all hero, father 1 Many a day 
Hath passed, sinee we turned from thy gase away ; 
And now, far o'er Yalley, and mountain, and main, 
We come to our native nome again. 
Father, we are here, all here I 

We are all here, mother I Each day that rolled. 
Brought back thy blessed look of gold ; 
Thy face, thy yoice, thy loving care, 
Sleeping or waking, was with us there, 
llother, we are here, all hero ! 

We are all here, brother I Many a hand 
Hath pledged us love, in the stranger's land ; 
Strong and warm, like the pushing vine, 
Brother, we found no love like thine. 
Brother, we are here, all here I 

We are all here, sister I Faces bright 
Have showered upon us their smiles of light, 
Gotttle and pure ; but, far above. 
Was a sister's smile and a sister's lore. 
Sister, we are here, all here 1 

.We are here, all here 1— euro earth hath known 
No bliss like this, which we call our own ; 
Type of the joy in the " mansion fair," 
hen we shall all be gathered there. 



% 



ADVENTURES OF CAPTAIN FLOR- 
ENCE AND PARTY. 

Mr. Geofgo Davis, of New York City, 
who aiTivod in San Franeisoo in July, 
1869, orerlaad, via the South Pass, re- 
ported that (when the tiain with which 
ho was possing np the ralley of the Sweet- 
wator, arrtTod about half-way between 
Indopondenoe Rook and the South Pass,) 
fthay found a wounded man lying on the 
road. They took him up and placed him 
in a wagpn and oonveyed him to their 
oanp, n short dutanco off. 

They saw that ho was wounded in the 

hip and shoulder, so that he must die. 

•"He said bis name was 0. M. Hall, a 
aativo of Cincinnati, Ohio, and late a 
residont of California. He started from 
Sacramento, to cross the Plains, on the 
90th of April, in company with George 
Stovenson, a native of Pittsburg, Pa., 
Dsrid Moore, formerly of Lancaster 
eonnty. Pa., and Captain Henry Florence, 
from Carlisle, Pa. When they arrived 
in the Sweetwater yalley, Moore fell sick 



and tbejr camped for a few days, about 
half a mile from the road. While there, 
they noticed some Indians lurking about, 
but anticipated no danger. On the night 
of the 15 In ultimo, they were all asleep 
in their camp, when a party of Indians, 
having first stolen their arms, attacked 
them. Hall was awakened by receiving 
two bullets in his body. He attempted 
to rise, but found himself unable to*do 
so. He saw Florence spring up, appa- 
rently unhurt, and had attacked the 
largest Indian. Hall then fainted, and 
remained unconscious for some time. 
When he cams to his senses, he found 
that he was sirifMd of bis clothing, and 
Florence was in sight, tied hand and foot, 
and the Indians were apparently holding 
a council. Soon after that he beard the 
tramp of horses, and the Indians and 
Florence disappeared* He remained 
where be was until morning, part of the 
time in a swoon, and part of the time 
conscious. He saw that everything that 
might have been of yaluo to him bad 
been taken from the eamp, so he ma*- 
aged, in the course of the aay, to get to 
the road, and there fell down and lay for 
two days without food or cover, till the 



A18 



SUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



train in which Mr. Davia was cadie 

" He died on the 19th ult., two days 
after being found. Mr. Davis' train spent 
several days in seeking for the Indians 
and for Florence, bat found nothing save 
a trail leading towards the Grow nation, 
to which the Indians were supposed to 
belong.*' 

Capt. Florence's friends made every 
exertion, through the various Indian 
Agents, to discover some trace of him, 
but to no purpose, and at last they were 
forced to believe that he added another 
to that numerous band who have fallen 
victims to savage brutality. A few weeks 
ago, however, Capt F. made his appear- 
ance in the streets of San Francisco, hale 
and hearty as ever, and as a wish has 
been expressed by many to learn some- 
thing of his sojourn among the Indians, 
and the means used to effect his escape, 
we have had an interview with him and 
procured the following statement, which 
we give in his own language : 

" On the night of the attack, we had 
been lying around our camp fire until a 
late hour, relating our experiences in 
California, and drawing bright pictures 
of the future. We all had been more or 
less successful in California, and I, espe- 
cially, had no reason to complain. I had 
fallen asleep and was dreaming of home, 
when I was suddenly aroused by the re- 
port of fire-arms. I sprang to my feet, 
and when the smoke cleared away I saw 
the lifeless forms of my companions ly- 
ing around me. A stalwart sayage struck 
at me with a war club, but I sprang 
aside, and before he had time to raise his 
elub a second time, I had him by the 
throat and his club in my possession. 
Before I could use it, however, a dozen 
Indians were around me, and I received 
a heavy blow on the neck that brought 
me to the ground. They then bound me 
with oar halter straps, after which they 
rifled our tent, stripped the dead bodies, 
Ottd then dragged me a short distance. 



After holding a council, which lasted 
about ten minutes, they brought up our 
mules and plaoed me on one of them. 
They then drove off at a furious speed, 
an Indian on each side of me, and the 
rest following. We traveled northward, 
crossing the Wind-river mountains, and 
at the opening of a plain, near the mouth 
of a dark ravine, we came on an encamp- 
ment of Indians. We were received 
with a chorus of shouts and hideous yells. 
I was then marched in their midst, and 
such a babel of sounds as then ensaed 
it would be impossible to describe. My 
hands and arms were swollen from the 
tightness of the bands, and I was so worn 
out with the fatigues I had undergone, 
(we had traveled twenty miles without 
stopping,) that I could not stand. They 
offered me some berries and dried bits of 
meat, but I could not eat I lay with 
my hands bound behind me until early 
next morning, when. they unbound my 
hands and placed me on a mule. We 
started at a rapid gait, which we kept up 
all day without stopping for refreshment 
or rest. My sufferings were appalling in 
the extreme. Late at night we came to 
a halt. I was again offered food, bat I 
had no appetite. I had a burning fever, 
and my thirst almost consumed me ; my 
tongue clove close to the roof of my 
mouth, so that I could not articulate a 
syllable. We all went down to a small 
pool of muddy water, and I drank a large 
quantity, which made me feel still worse, 
so that I fell down utterly powerless. 
They dragged me to the camping ground, 
where I lay all night suffering the most 
excruciating agonies, which were still 
further aggravated by the thought that I 
would be obliged to travel still farther 
the next morning. At daybreak we re- 
sumed our march, but my sufferings it 
would be impossible to describe ; about 
noon three of the savages left us, after 
which my reason forsook me ; I have a 
faint recollection of crossing great moan- 



ADVJSNTURBS OF CAPT. FLOKBNOfi AND PARTY. 



t Moa > w hen and wb«re I oannot tell, 
bot when ooiueioiunefla retanied I found 
mjnM utting by the side of an Indinn 
wigwmm, and saw about two hundred 
lavsgea in the full enjoyment of a war 
dance. It was eyening, and they had a 
large fire burning, around which they 
danced (hideously punted) with shrill, 
fiendish cries, making at the time fright- 
fal grimaces. 

" The females would gather around me, 
stare at me fi>r a few minutes, and then 
with a wild shout mingle in the dance. 
Tbey eonttnned dancing till day-break, 
after which they slept until noon, when 
they assembled in council. The Ohief 
arose and addressed them for about ten 
minotes. When he sat down a young 
Indian (one who assisted in my capture) 
made » veryTiolent speech, which occupied 
about two hours in its delivery. When 
he had finished, the clothing and money 
taken from us was distributed amongst 
then. Oar papers the Chief kept. The 
conneil broke up with a wild yell. They 
then took me to a lodge built of brush 
and grass, and placed three savages to 
guard me. 

" The next morning I arose somewhat 
refreshed, though I was conscious only at 
short intwvals ; anything exciting would 
revive me for a time, but the greater part 
of that period is a blank. A vigilant 
watch vras still maintained over me. If 
I had been able to retain my money, I 
might in my lucid moments have devised 
some means of escape ; but the loss of all 
I possessed made me gloomy and de- 
ipoading, and these feelings I allowed 
fall eeope, to the exclusion of everything 
else. I suffered greatly from hunger ; at 
times we would have abundance ; then 
tgain from three to five days would 
•lapae without our being able to procure 
anything. I was finally reduced to a 
■Mre skeleton. I was so altered that no 
person would have recognised me as a 
white 



" I would have been more at ease had 
I been aware that my friends knew of 
my capture; but I presumed that my 
companions had been killed, their bodies 
eaten by wolves, and all traces destroyed 
of our party. I now became convinced 
that they did not intend to kill me, as 
they began to show some little kind- 
nesses. One day, after my reason had 
returned to me, I made up my mind that 
I would endeavor to effect my escape, 
which I might have accomplished had I 
known my wherabouts. I also endeav- 
ored to drive away the deep despondency 
which had taken possession of me, know- 
ing that it would be necessary for me to 
have full possession of my reasoning fac- 
ulties at such a time, and by so doing I 
improved somewhat 

" One day I noticed that several In<tians 
arrived with packages, which, on being 
opened, were found to contain clothing. 
It had evidently belonged to a woman, 
and to girls about five and twelve years 
of age. There vras also clothing suitable 
for a boy of fifteen years of age, and sev- 
eral blankets. I could not get any infor- 
mation as to where they had obtained 
them, but I had no doubt that there had 
been more murders committed. 

A few days after this occurrence there 
was g^reat excitement in the camp. I was 
taken to my lodge and dressed in the 
clothing of a white man. I knew that 
something was going on in my favor, but 
what, I could not imagine. I soon saw a 
train of mules, but not seeing any white 
men amongst them, I began to fear that I 
was going to be sold to another tribe. 
The party entered our camp amidst deaf- 
ening yelb, and the whole company gave 
themselves up to eating and drinking. I 
was kept out of sight, guarded by two 
Indians. The next day the Chief came 
with one of the new comers, who shook 
hands vrith me and informed me that he 
was a trader, and of Indian and French 
descent. This wae probably a falsehood* 



620 



HUTCHINOS* CAUFOfiNIA MA0AZIN1L 



as he bad no tvaoe of Indian blood what- 
ever. In ibe afternoon he came a|;aui, 
and asked me if I intended to stay with 
the Indians, if my friends were wealthy, 
and who they were, all of which I an- 
swered. I begged of him to boy me of 
the Indians, and told him he might re- 
tain all the money the Indians had if he 
would effect my release. He smiled as 
only a villain can smile, and said that 
the money coald not be recovered. He 
then showed me my drafts for three thon* 
sand dollars, which the Chief had saved, 
and said that if I would transfer them to 
him, he would ransom me. 

I informed him that this would make 
me a beggar ; but he said it made no dif- 
ference to him. I begged him to let me 
keep five hundred dollars, but he inusted 
upon having all. I saw expostulation 
was useless, and so I yielded. His name 
was Louis S^auvers, and he hailed from 
Kaw river. I believe that he was con- 
cerned in the robbery and murder of my 
companions, from the fact that the three 
savages who left us at the Wind River 
Mountains were in his company. After 
endorsing my drafts over to him, we 
started on our journey. At the end of 
the second day my reason again forsook 
me. I traveled from five to seven days, 
and in my ravings I undertook to kill the 
Frenchman. The next day he drove me 
from him. I lefl him and his vagabond 
Snakes — ^for they mostly all belonged to 
that tribe and the Arapahoes — and trav- 
eled two days, when suddenly I came 
upon the Overland Wagon Boad. At nine 
o'clock that evening I came to an emi- 
grant's camp. I told them my story, and 
they took me in and gave me something 
to. eat. I bad been without food since I 
left the Frenchman. We soon arrived at 
Soda Springs, from whence we came to 
Humboldt, where we wintered. As soon 
as the snow would admit I started for 
San Francisco, passing through Carson 
City, and on snow shoes across the Sierra 



Nevada Mountains, and in due time ar- 
rived in safety in San Francisco." 

Captain Florence describes these In- 
diuBs as beings of the lowest order, liv- 
ing upon raw meat» sprinkled with gall ; 
also on worms and reptiles. 

A LSAV nOU THX DIABT OF A "BLUX." 

They tell me I have fame I Whence 
came it, but from the sighing of my own 
heart for that which fame can never 
bring? At the shrine of youth and 
beauty, are offered the praise and homage 
of which the child of genius reoeives but 
the hollow echo ! Last evening as I was 
singing and playing "the parting re- 
quiem," a manly form bent low above 
me, as if to catch each sound and word 
as they were breathed forth from the 
depths of my heart. 

I felt his breath upon my oheek» suffus- 
ing it with a glow as if bathed in the 
perfumed waters of immortal youth. I 
listened in sanguine silence, when the 
song was ended, for words which wake our 
inner life, and kindle a holy flame on the 
desolate altar of the heart At length he 
spoke — ^what music, mnsie like the voice 
of one we love? — but, alas I like iron his 
words sank into my soul as he said, " you 
must once have been beautiful, and with 
such musical talent, you must have been 
captivating." Oh I could he but have 
seen the timid, chastened spirit within, 
that no longer demanded homage as a 
right, but now longed for something on 
which to lavish that wealth of the heart, 
refined by experience and suffering.— 
But, farewell I to the blissful, fleeting 
dreams of Ufe ; no more shall. I listen to 
the words of love, which fall on the heart 
like dew, its melody no more to be 
awakened until the chords are swept by 
angel fingers in that world where beauty 
never fades, and our brightest dresms 
shall be more than realised. 



OUB SOCIAL CHAIIL 



521 



OTHJSR DAYS. 

In all the flequences of life, 

That senre to soothe oar mortal cares, 
That baojs the spirit in the strife 

Of passing hours and coming years, 
There's none to memory so dear, 

Of brighter hues or warmer rays, 
Whoee influenoe can truly cheer, 

Like joys weVe shared in Other Days. 

The mind may pierce the Futikre's gloom, 

And Hope, with vivifying gleam. 
Gild the dark vista to the tomb. 

With all the wealth of Fancy's dream ; 
Fame, Honor, Glory 1 all of Earth, 

For whioh man's great ambition plays, 
Have few endearments that are worth 

The joys that were— of Other Days. 



Of Other Days I When we were young, 

Untutored in the ways of guile ; 
When Truth to boyhood's garland clung, 

And lent its charm to beauty's smile ; 
When Innocence, with merry laugh. 

Resented the mischievous gaie. 
And it was ecstacy to quaff 

The neotar'd sweets of Other Days. 

To think of tiiese— to turn amde 

From life, and scan each bygone year, 
With all our cause for joy and pride. 

We must, betimes, let fall a tear. 
Thus, while we mourn the fair and brave. 

Who shared with us our youthful plays. 
We shed the tears ire owe the grave^ 

And smile in dreams of Other Days. 

Stockton, s. B. T. 



#sr Sotial C^air. 



5T always does one good to read an ez- 
eellent Joke, especially when it is well 
told. There is almost as much *' gen- 
ius " required in the retailer as in the man- 
ofactnrer. Both must be looked upon as 
public benefactors, inasmuch as all pleas- 
urable relaxation, and distention of the 
mnscles, from the relation of a laughable 
incident, not only improves the social qual- 
ities of the bearer, bnt increases his phys- 
ical strength, snd, consequently, adds to 
his longevity. Those, therefore, who would 
confer a blessing on mankind, had better 
cnltivate the gracious and amiable art of 
joke making and retailing, and send Our 
Social Chair such as the following : 

Vo State of the Union has a greater pro- 
portion of foreign or naturalised voting 
population than California. The judiciary 
is elective. These fhcts are necessary to 
uaderstand and appreciate why the Judge 
in the following story was so jM^ronising 
to Pat. 

ShasU being the head of " TTo-Aov" nav- 
igation, the hotels in this flourishing town 

were lull to overflowing,when Judge B 

arrived and asked the Landlord for a room. 
The Landlord greatly regretted the fkct, 
but ** there was bat one opportunity even 



to sleep beneath his roof, and that in a 
double bed already occupied by *a son of 
the Kmerald Isle' — a miner from a neigh- 
boring county, who was well acquainted 
with Judge B by reputation." 

The Judge, making a virtue of neeessity, 
agreed to sleep with Pat for the night, and 
was shown into the room by Boniface, who 
waked him and told him who was to be his 
bedfellow. Pat was agreed. The landlord 
retired, and the Judge commenced the 
double process of undressing and remind- . 
ing Pat of the great honor of which he 
was about to be the recipient, and at the 
same time talking of the **Ould Oonnthry,'* 
and in preparing Pat to give to him, the 
Judge, his support at the coming election. 
Conversing for sorae*time after getting into 
bed, said the Judge : 

** Pat, yon would have remained a long 
time in the old country before yon would 
have slept with a Judge, would yon not V* 

'< TIs, yer Honor," said Pat, << and I think 
yer Honor would have been a long time in 
the 'Ould Counthry' before ye'd been a 
Judge, too 1" 

The Judge waked up next morning end 
looked in the glass, to see whether a bad 
night's rest had is^ured his looks. 

This reminds us of the following remark- 
ably erudite and fuit ! proceeding, as ro- 
uted by the Maiysville Affud : 



522 



HUTOHINOS' OALIfORNIA MAGAZINE. 



A neighbor of a Uarfsville JuBttce of the 
Peace was aecased of ttealing bones found 
in his possession. The case was brought 
before the aboTe mentioned '^ Squire," and 
two strangers were introduced as wit- 
nesses. 

"Gentlei}Mii,"said the Squire, <a have 
heerd the eYidenee agin the prisoner, and 
am keen to own that it is dare as daylight 
and as straight as a string. Wal, I know 
the prisoner, have knowed him for some 
jeers, and never knowed of his stealin 
nuthin in his life. These jerr witnesses is, 
no doubt, Terj clever gentiefiMn, and is very 
likely well knowed and believed in Sacra- 
menter, but I do know the prisoner, and he 
might a had them hosses, but I'm setten 
yerr to do justice between man and man, 
and ( can't find no neighbor of mine guilty 
of no stealin on the evidence of two stran- 
gers. Mr. Constable, adjourn court and 
discharge the ndpriL" 

According to the San Diego Herald^ the 
residents of that southerly California city 
must be exceedingly enterprising — over 
the left. One might suppose that their per- 
fect indifference about everything, might 
preclude the advantages to be gained from 
a perusal of the following " first rate com- 
plimentary notice" — suggested by the dis- 
covery of some Guano islands adjacent — 
owing to its not being read : 

People here are so cursed lazy that no 
one has ever had the enterprise to explore 
the coast, and we doubt if the surety of an 
independent fortune would induce the fit- 
ting out of a party to do so. A people in 
a climate like this, with a soil not excelled 
for productiveness on the globe, who send 
to San Francisco for their flour, potatoes, 
onions, beans, barley, etc., would not move 
from the Plaza for all the guano in the Pa- 
cific, unless there were the additional in- 
ducements of a fandango or a horse race. 



"Among the negroes on the plantation 
of a friend of mine," writes a correspon- 
dent from Mississippi, " is Sambo, a jovial, 
broad faced "gemman of color," noted for 
his bravery, or, in other words, " pluck to 
the back bone." Come what will, Sambo 
is never known to " back out," or lose con- 
fidence in his own superior abilities to 
carry himself safely through ; and wonder- 
ful are the stories that he tells of his ama- 
Bing powers, and courage under difficul- 



ties, in adventures both by ''field and 
flood ;" and they never cease to be a mar- 
vel among other less daring and presuming 
darkies on the plantation. 

It chanced one night, last summer, as 
Sambo was recounting his daring exploits 
to his companions, as usual, one of them, 
in order to test his courage, laid a wager 
of five dollars that he could not stand one 
hour naked, exposed to the millions of 
mosquitoes that float at night, like a cloud, 
over the grounds on the margin of the 
river. 

^ Done 1" said Sambo, and immediately 
he stripped himself for the trial, and pro- 
ceeded to the spot appointed. 

After having stood it like a hero for fifty 
minutes, his antagonist, fearing that he 
would win the wager, came up stealthily 
behind him, and touched his back with a 
live coal of fire! 

With a curse, and a bound full three feet 
into the air. Sambo yelled out, "By — I 
can't stand dat! I gibs it up! I could 
stand ten millions of ekeeture ; but dat — 
dat was a bloody galUnqiper .'" 



A father writes this : 

My two little boys, James and John, at- 
tend the country school very regularly. 
James is eight years old; John sixteen. 
One day the teacher had occasion to call 
up James to his desk, for some misconduct, 
and proceeded to punish him according to 
the old method, by whipping the hand with 
a rattan. Six blows with the rattan was 
the punishment to be Inflicted ; but after 
he had dealt out three of them, John, who 
could restrain himself no longer, sprung 
from his seat to the master's desk, and 
holding out his hand, said, " Please, sir, 
give me the other three blows. I am willing 
to be whipped for Jemmy." 

Suffice it to say that the other three blows 
were not given, and the boys took their 
seats amid the tears of the whole school. 

A correspondent sends us the following : 
A teacher in a Sabbath school was en- 
deavoring to Impress on the minds of bis 



OUR SOOIAL CHAIR. 



528 



pupils the datj of forgiveness. " See, 
bojs," Mid he, *' the Savior says, *If a man 
miito thee on the right cheek, turn to him 
the other also.' This is what the Savior 
sajs, and now who of jott would do it ?'' 

The bojs were silent, when a little red- 
headed urchin spolie np, " I would do it I 
I would turn to him the other cheek, and 
if he dared strike it, Pd whaU Am, by 

" DOINGS *' TO THK CHAIR. 

Dbaklt BSLovBD Chaib : — ^Embrace mel 
Take one once more within thine arms ; and 
if it so be that for what I may say I shall 
be rewarded with an approving hug, both 
nyself and pen will regard it as a never- 
to-be-forgotten honor. And as the never 
ceasiug wheels of Time roll on, Ac, Ac, 
kc, et edera. Please imagine that I have 
•aid all that is customary upon great occa- 
tions, and I will continue in my own small 

I find| my dear Chair, that thou art an 
object of envy. I have seen all sorts of 
chairs—even benches and stools-come with 
their hardens of trial and tribulation, and 
se^k sympathy from thy genial nature ; all, 
all, appear to be discontented and unsatis- 
fied with their lot, grumbling and loudly 
complaining, whilst thou alone art happy 
and content And why 7 Simply because 
of thy humorgus disposition and sociai. at- 
tributes, and because thy aim and desire is, 
to throw the mantle of Happiness over all. 
Thy mission is a sweet one, and thy works 
prove that nothing should live for self 
alone. But not to be tedious with a pro- 
logue, I will come to the principal cause of 
my being here. I, too, claim sympathy. I 
have been badly used. Hear my story and 
I am sure of your condolence. 'Tis thus : 

I visited the cabin of one of my neigh- 
bors, the inmates of which had been ma- 
king some rude arm chairs. As I settled 
down into one of them, I made the remark 
that it was made of Dogwood. 

'* No it Is not 1 *' said one of the company; 
*^ why do yon think so?" 

*' My opinion was based upon the barkf" 
saidL 



" What t" rejoined another, " after living 
in the woods as long as you have, don't 
you know Oak bark from Dogwood ?" 

I had nothing to say ; the rebuke was 
stunning, and I shortly after took my de- 
parture, regreting for the time that my lot 
was cast among such a people. I know, 
my dear Chair, that you feel for me ; you 
cannot help it ; but never mind. Confident 
of your sympathy and appreciation, I can 
forgive those fellows, and will now add 
something with the hope that you may 
smile. 

Everyone who has ever traveled from 
Sacramento on the Jackson road, will re- 
member that after leaving " Cook's," the 
way for many miles is over a dry and arid 
plain, which settlers have often and again 
taken up and endeavored to improve. 
Tracts of land adjoining the road have 
been trenched, and the dirt, being thrown 
upon the inside answers, together with the 
ditch, the purpose of a fence. Passing 
through that region In the sUg^ last fell, 
we saw a man hard at work throwing the 
dirt back into one of the ditches. As stage 
passengers generally observe and remark 
upon everything seen, this occasion was 
not lost, and numerous conjectures were 
made as to what could be the object, when 
the driver remarked that in his opinion i% 
did not pay the man to stop there, and be 
was about to leave. 

« Why so, Jimmy?" said one of the pas- 
sengers. 

** Because ht^s taking cwoff kU mprw^ 
maUi" was the reply. 

As the Chair loves to laugh, and as 
laughter is said to be contagious, before 
leaving I am going to relate an incident 
wherein the proof is conclusive. 

Not many months ago I journeyed to the 

town of y , and the supper table of Its 

public house found me seated at one of Its 
well filled sides. Just above me on the 
opposite side was a gentleman whom we 
all saluted as Colonel. Facing him was a 
man who, as I judged from the conversa- 
tion, had just returned fVom a hunting ex- 
cursion. He was relating to the Colonel a 



924 



nUTCniNGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



circmnsUuice which he cooBidered as im- 
moderateljT fanny, and laughed most hear- 
iilj in consequence— the Colonel joining 
in. Several at the lower end of the table 
halloed to know what was up, and if a good 
thing to let it out and give them a chance. 
Those in the Ticinitj said thej couldn't see 
the point-— didn't know where the laugh 
came in. 

" Is it possible?' said the Colonel ; "teU 
it again, Bill, and boys be read/; I'll tell 
jou when it comes." 

All ears were in attendance as Bill pro- 
eeeded to report. The sto^ was just noth- 
ing at all ; there was reallj no laugh in it, 
but suddenly the Colonel, rapping with his 
knife upon the table, exclaimed: "Now, 
boys, laugh I here's the point ;" uid set- 
ting the example himself, Bill joined, those 
next in order down the table took it up, 
and like electricity it ran to the extreme 
ends. It was no make-believe, but a real 
• and spontaneons burst, and loader than 
any laughed Bill, and the louder he 
laughed, the loader laughed the rest. 
Knives and forks were at a heavy discount, 
and the scene baffles description. Imagine 
a hundred men, fifty on each side of the 
table, with their faces drawn up into all 
kinds of shapes and expressions — some 
holding to their ribs for very pain — others 
endeavoring with their handkerchiefs to 
dam up floods of tears — bodies were surg- 
ing backwards and forwards, this way and 
that, and some kept perfectly stiff while 
the head rolled all over the shoulders — all 
kinds of laughs were there, from the little 
te he, to the big ha, ha, and sonorous ho, 
ho. To make the scene, if possible, more 
ridiculousi Bill, in order to have more 
room, rose from his seat — the chair was 
too confining for his emotions — and his 
long lank form at times would tower high 
in air, open mouth, head back and chest 
expanded to its utmost, then every muscle 
would relax, and he would go down nearly 
upon his knees, and with a whoop 1 erect 
himself and laugh loader than ever. Wait- 
ers, with their arms Aill of dishes, were 
obliged to join in, and regardless of ex- 



pense crockery was broken, and at eveiy 
crack, laughter received a fresh impetus. 

Mine host, an elderly and dignified per- 
sonage, came rushing in from the bar room. 
Our hostess, an aged matron with a benev- 
olent fhce, surrounded with the border of 
a white lace cap, came pattering out of the 
kitchen, and both surveyed the scene in 
calm astonishment. Their presence for 
perhaps an instant checked the flow of 
mirth ; but the peculiarity of the eipres- 
sion stamped upon the features of this 
would-be sedate couple — the sort of half 
smile and half frown upon the proceedings 
-> was fatal to all soberness, and if possi- 
ble, with increased vehemence did the well 
of laughter burst from the company, in 
which " mine grave host," bringing both 
hands slap down upon his knees, joined 
with hearty aest ; while mine hostess, after 
an effort to maintain the dignity of the 
house, mildly exclaimed "did you ever !" 
and toddled out of the room with her 
mouth full of apron, and the ribbons of the 
white cap shaking from the convulsions 
within. How long this state of aflbirs 
would have continued it is impossible to 
surmise, had not the boarders by ones, by 
twos, by threes and fours, rushed furiously 
from the room, leaving the landlord end 
waiters to contemplate an array of vacant 
chairs around a well provisioned table, and 
the viands scarcely touched. • 

After the following you will oblige me 
with my hat, for I must go. Periodicals of 
all descriptions have for a long time past 
teemed with the sayings of three and foar 
year olds. Some of them have been as 
beautiful as they were astonishing. I am 
about to record one here, which I consider 
richly deserving a place among them : 

Alie D , or, as all her friends say, 

"our Alie," with her mother, made Sacra- 
mento a visit last fall, and on a shopping 
tour with several lady friends, the mother 
and daughter went to "Crocker's" store, 
near the door of which is one of those re- 
volving frames for the exhibition of dress 
goods. The one in question was elegantlj 



OUR SOCIAL CHAIR. 



S26 



•Dd elaborately clothed with all those arti- 
cles which ladies love to wear, even to the 
bonnet. The party baying concladed their 
parcbases in another portion of the store, 
were aboat to leave, when they noticed the 
subject of this standing in deep meditation 
before the dressed frame. So noiselessly 
did they approach the place, and so thor- 
•Qghly engrossed was the mind of Miss 
Alie, that their presence was unknown, 
sor bad she an idea that any one was ta- 
king notes. Her lovely little face, usually 
•o full of smiles and dimples, was now 
etlffl and tbougbtful, and her eyes of un- 
iQipassable beauty were fixed intently 
upon the figure, while a little hand went 
oot and turned it slowly rouud, and when 
it stopped again all was still and quiet ; 
then a little voice, scarcely more than a 
whisper, said, ** I think her apirit muMi be m 
IleavefL" 

Is it any wonder that the mother in ec- 
itacy clasped that darling in her arms, and 
before the little one knew what it meant, 
covered its little face with kisses 7 

Wishing jou every degree of prosperity 
and happiness, I am, my dear Chair, 

Ever socially thine, 

Doixas. 



^fu^toni for SP[B|. 

Closks. 
The Pardesa is still the most approved 
ityle of mantle ; the " Zebra Cloth'' is pre- 
fered for material, but we opine only be- 
csQte it is wanner than silk, as this gar- 
ment most not be wadded or lined. The 
depth of the back, and where it is seamed, 
is ooly about a finger's length shorter than 
the wearer's dress ; it is quite pointed back 
end front — indeed nearly shawl-shaped, 
with a Tery deep, pointed yoke. To this 
yoke, and falling over the shawl-shsped 
skirt, is a hood which is also pointed, and 
finished with a large silk tassel. The hot* 
torn of the cloak is finished by a two inch 
wide bias-fold of the stripe of cloth. There 
must be a perfect fold also on the yoke, 
Jnst aroand the shoulders, and at the top 



of the hood a tassel is set on the fold at 
the seam in the back, and this tassel should 
be smaller than the one on the hood. 
Where this cloak is made of silk, the trim* 
ming should be of the silk also ; the depth 
of the trimming around the bottom should 
not be less than one-eighth of a yard in 
depth, and laid on in small box plaits, 
formed by separating it so as to leave an 
inch on both edges to forma plaited rnflBe; 
the hood of the same finish but only half the 
width. There are no sleeves to this new 
Pardessus, as owing to the enlargement they 
are not admissible. It takes nine yards, of 
yard wide silk, to cut and trim one. The 
Long Shawl is equally ftshionable, and 
will, we presume, supersede the "Pardes- 
sus" as the summer advances. 

€^t 9|omi 9xt9B, 
Of which so much has been said in the At- 
lantic periodicals, is nearly given up as a 
failure. We refer to the "gored skirt," 
with skirt and corsage cut in one piece* 
They are the bane of dressmakers, and even 
when well executed and worn by the finest 
forms, they are still like the grain of wheat 
in the bushel of chaff, hard to find, and 
when found not worth the seeking after. 

Cccrisgc •fees. 
Taffetas ailk, dark green double skirts, 
the upper one trimmed with pink flowers, 
three in number, four, five and six inches 
wide. Body plain and pointed back and 
ft'ont. Sleeves tight, with up-turned cuff 
trimmed with "parsementerie." A cape of 
green silk trimmed with guifure lace. This 
fashionable cape has found general fkvor 
for its completeness and simplicity, and \a 
worn not only with carriage dresses, but 
promenade and ball as well. For the last 
it is necessary ; it should be of lace, but it 
preferred of the material of the dress for 
any other occasion. This cape, when of 
lace, is oftenest made circular ; but when 
of silk or worsted goods, the pointed cape, 
pinned to the waist at points, la preferabla. 
It is Id both cases high in the throat, and 
fastened by a large brooch. Ball dresses 
are almost exclusively cut sqaart-necked| 



526 



HUTCHINGS' CALIFORNIA MAGAZINE. 



and moderately low. The tendency to trim 
in door dresses with velvet button s, and 
also with silk buttons, encircled with black 
lace, is on the increase. Head dresses are 
not so elaborately trimmed as during the 
winter season. The collar and cuflfs of the 
closed undersleevo are of ^* Valenciennes." 
There is a new style of lace called ^'Cam- 
bria, in imitation of Chantilly, which is 
quite low priced and very pretty. 

The skirts of all dresses are box plaited 
on to a waistband; large double plaits in 
the back^ smaller ones at the sides, and 
quite small shallow ones in front. The 
skirts are not as full as they were, and are 
not to be put on so as to have much full- 
ness in front. 

Fine zephyr worsted net undersleeves 
are much worn for the street. 



IB^oni^IS ^orb of ixtnttd €btnis. 

After the heavy rains that fell about the 
middle of March last, a crevasse two hun- 
dred feet in length was made in the leree, 
opposite the tannery, at Sacramento. 

The same rains caused a pine tree, which 
grew on the side of a gulch, two miles west 
of Sonoma, to be torn up by the roots ; thus 
revealing a vein of Cannel coal, about forty 
feet wide. It is said to burn well, and 
other veins have been found adjoining. 

The streets of Placcrville have been 
crowded with strangers, on their way to 
the Washoe mines in the Territory of Ne- 
vada. 

A vein of coal has been found near Tone 
City, Amador county, says the Calaveras 
Chronicle. It is ten feet in thickness, and 
of as good quality as the best Pennsylva- 
nia coal. 

The mail stage line running between 
Oakland and Stockton was discontinued, 
owing to the non payment of mail matter, 
according to contract. 

The mail steamer Sonora sailed for Pan- 
ama March 20th, with 550 passengers, and 
$1,287,136 in treasure. 

A bill creating the office of State Geolo- 
gist passed the Legislature, and 0. D.Whit- 
ney, of Vermont, was elected to the office, 
with a salary of $6,000 per annum. 

A grand public reception was given by 
the city of San Francisco to the Japanese 
Embassy, on the 22nd of March. 



The Golden Age arrived on the 27th of 
March, with 984 passengers, and 2,690 
packages of merchandise. 

An intemperate young man, named 
George Yufjle, offered to bet four bits, at 
San Juan, Nevada county, that he would 
be dead in fifteen minutes. In half an 
hour afterwards, he was found in a room 
cold and dead. 

Digger Indians to the number of thirty, 
squaws included, assembled in the sabnrbs 
of MarysviUe, and bad a pitched battle 
with stones, sticks, bottles, etc. Several 
of them had their faces disfigured. 

The genuine Sugar Maple tree was re- 
cently discovered at Round Valley, Mendo- 
cino county, from which an excellent qual- 
ity of sugar was obtained by Mr. Henle^'. 

The mail steamship Golden Age carried 
away $1,615,787, 530 passengers, and 32,- 
241 letters, on the 5th ult. 

The first Pony Express, of the Central 
Overland Horse Express Company, left the 
Alta Telegraph Company's office, at the 
corner of Montgomery and Merchant streets, 
at a few minutes before 4 o'clock on the 
afternoon of the 3d ult. 

The steamer Champion cleared at the 
Custom House for New York, by way of 
Cape Horn — the new arrangement of steam- 
ers making her presence here needless. 

Several deaths have occurred in San 
Francisco during the month, from eating 
poisonous mushrooms. 

A large and enthusiastic mass meeting 
was held in the American Theatre, San 
Francisco, on the 6th ult., against the 
" Parson's Bulkhead Bill." 

The rates of fare by the Golden Age on 
the 5th ult., were, first cabin, $257 50 and 
$232 50; for second cabin, $157,50 ; for 
steerage, $107 50* 

The first great " Pony Overland Express" 
arrived in Carson City, Nevada Teritory, at 
half past 3 o'clock, p. m., on the 12th ult., 
and which left St. Joseph, Mo., April 3d, 
at 5 o'clock P.M., thus making the through 
trip in less than nine days, bringing St. 
Louis News up to the day of starting. 

The "Parson's Bulkhead BilP' passed 
both houses of the Legislature on the 12th 
ult. and was vetoed by Gov. J. G. Downey 
on the l€th. 

A trout was caught in Santa Rosa creek, 
which measured 22 inches in length, and 
weighed 2} pounds. 

Hay was selling in Carson Valley at $200 
per ton ; lumber at from $40 to $60 per 
M. Daily wages for hands, $5. 



EDITOR'S TABLE. 



627 



The Sierra CiiiKen says the ayerage yield 
of gold from the quartz mills in the imme- 
diate Ticioitjr or Jamison Citjr, on the new 
trail from Downieyille to Washoe, is $50,- 
UOO per week. 

The miners at Pine Grove, Sierra county, 
resolred in public meeting to permit no 
Chinamen to work in the mines of that dis- 
trict 

Daring a murder trial in Mariposa, one 
■f the jurors went fiist asleep in the box, 
and got angry with the Deputy Sheriff for 
arousing him. 

The Golden Rock Water Company's ditch 
was completed to Big Oak Flat, and the 
water turned through it. It is forty miles 
long, has been nearly four years building, 
and cost $400,000. 



A new town has been laid off on Carson 
river, at what is known as Nick's Ranch. 

The first number of the *' Lancha Plana 
Dispatch" was issued at Lancha Plana, 
Amador county, by Heckeudoi^n & Payne. 

The Golden Gate arrived on the 12th 
ult., with 803 passengers and 535 tons of 
freight. 

The Hon. John C. Bell, Assemblyman 
from £1 Dorado county, was shot and 
stabbed in an affray with Dr. Stone, of the 
same county, on the 11th, and died from 
his wounds on the morning of the 16th ult 

The rates of passage by the John L. Ste- 
phens, on the 20th, were, Ist cabin $250 ; 
2d cabin $175 ; steerage $75. She carried 
away 396 passengers, and $1,382|783. 



*m»m 



€)itint*s CaHe. 



IX THESE DATS of enterprising fore- 
sightedness, it is difficult to determine 
or foresee what can or cannot be ac- 
complished. Assisted by intelligence and 
nndauntable will, the breath of the loco- 
motive, the fire of the galvanic battery, 
horseflesh, and good riders, news has sped 
its winged flight across the continent, from 
the Atlantic to the Pacific, in the astonish- 
ingly short time of fiin« days. 

At 5 o'clock p. M. of the 3d ult, the first 
•• Overland Pony Express" left St. Joseph, 
Mo., with telegraphic intelligence from New 
York and St Louis, up to the time of start- 
ing, and arrived (via Salt Lake City) at 
('arson City, Western Utah, at half past 3 
p. M. of the 12th ult. From that point the 
news was immediately telegraphed to San 
Francisco, whero its arrival created much 
exciting pleasure. 

It is matter of congratulation to the peo- 
ple of California that this has been aecom- 
pltabed; not so much for the intrinsic 
value it may directly be — and that is great 
— but as indicating a higher point towards 
which cor postal advancement should 
tend ; and become a forcible appeal for the 
speedy Introduction of the great Iron 
Horse, and a complete line of telegraph, 



from one side of our continent to the 
other. 



It is ever a cause of regret In noble and 
generous natures to see an individual be- 
coming less worthy of their love and es- 
teem. If this axiom be true in private life 
and character, it cannot be less so in pub- 
lic. It is an unpleasant task, when duty 
leads to the necessity of finding fault at 
any time, whether the subjects be personal 
friends or not We confess to the weak- 
ness of disposition, if weakness it be, which 
prefers to praise rather than to censure ; 
but we do not make a similar confession 
when right or wrong is the matter at issue. 
Therefore we cannot feel It our duty to 
overlook the many unrighteous acts of the 
present Legislature. 

It is self-evident that either the Sute's 
prosperity, and the abundance of funds at 
its disposal, or a desire to be generous to 
individuals at the State's expense, has 
made our legislators extravagantly careless 
and reckless of its best Interests. Monop- 
olies most oppressive have been granted ; 
public funds have been voted away ; offi- 
ces have been created ; salaries have been 
raised, and almost every act passed bat 



528 



nUTCHINOS' OAUFOBmA IfAQAZINE. 



khowed the disposition "to hare a good 
time/' and " to give a good time," gener- 
ally. 

The great fact that public servants are 
elected to subserve the public good, and to 
be conservative of the public honor and 
pecuniary interests, has been much over* 
looked, and which will be felt in the State's 
prosperity for many years to come. 

Unfortunately this is too much the result 
of indifference on the part of the people, 
in not attending to their interests at all 
primary elections, and aiding the nomina- 
tion of high-minded and honorable men of 
good legislative abilities — but few of whom 
will accept of a nomination, owing to the 
dishonorable manner in whieh their char- 
acters are assailed by those of the oppo- 
site party, in order to defeat their election. 

The official visit of the Japanese Em- 
bassy — which consisted of twenty gentle- 
men, some of whom are hereditary princes, 
and fifty-two servants — to the United 
States, although of apparent insiguificance 
to many, may be attended with important 
results to this country and Japan. Its 
large and numerous islands, with their 
dense population, and various mineral, ag- 
ricultural and mechanical products, may 
open up a profitable system of commercial 
intercourse between us, that may be mu- 
tually beneficial in its results, and this 
peaceful mission do more towards breaking 
up the spirit of ezclusiveness entertained 
by the Japanese, than a victorious war 
could possibly have done. 

Each member of this embassy seems 
much interested in all he sees, and excites 
much interest in return. If they are well 
and respectfully treated elsewhere, as they 
have been here, their report to their coun- 
trymen, on their return, will conciliate and 
impress them favorably in our behalfl 

Their currency, of copper, silver and 
gold, is very curious, and is as follows : of 
copper there are three : 

1st. Zd-ne, or one cash, a ronnd coin, 
about the size of an Amerieaa nickel erat 



2d. QMon-at, or 4-caafa, a ronnd coin, 
about the size of the old American cent 

3d. TempOf or 10 cash, equal to 2 cents. 

Of silver there are also three ; 

let. The //-M-6ti, (or E*cU-loo^ as the 
Japanese pronounce it,) Talue 32 or 33 
cents. Its weight with American silver is 
only 32 cents. 

2d. The Nt-che-yuy or half e-che-boo, 
value 16 cents, eight being reckoned equal 
to a cobang. 

3d. The jE-ehe^wo9j or quarter e-ehe-boo, 
value 8 cents, sixteen being equal to a co- 
bang. 



* 
« 



ascent.. , : ,.o«u.: igSSi^i 



The QotD COINS are these : 

1st. The O'bang, This is of large size, 
of an oval shape, six inches in length, 
three and three-quarter inches in width, 
and of the thickness of an American five- 
dollar coin. The value is about $95. It 
is probably the largest gold coin in the 
world. 

2d. The Co-hang (or small bang) is of 
the same oval shape as the above, but of 
course is much smaller. It is a little larger 
than the 100-cash copper piece. Its value i 
in Japan, prior to the interference of for- 
eigners with their coins, was 138 cents. It 
was found to contain gold to the value of 
$4 42. As soon as the drain on the gold 
coins commenced, the Japanese govem- 
ment called in the cobangs, and fixed their 
value at 12 Uzebuet^ at which rate they now j 
pass in Japan. There are four sizes of co- 
bangs, varying in value fVom $3 15 to ' 
$4 42 each. 

We were pleased to see that the city of 
San Francisco tendered the officers of this, 
the first Japanese Embassy, a public recep- 
tion, which was promptly accepted : when 
the Board of Supervisors hospitably enter- 
tained them, and escorted them to the forts, 
arsenals, manufkctorics, and other sights 
of intereat available on so short a visit. 



To CoNTRiBUToas.— Several favors re- 
ceived, which will be duly examined next 
month. 



ADTXRTISIKO 81IPPLBHBNT. 



A Song for Spring. 

BY lACKWOOD M BEDDBIE, ITS CLAT BTBXBT. 
Tk spring bslraj Spdnf, villi 1u niDihlna 

AH uUrc ti nnaicie, Ihc Mrda Ibty ilni jtmj ; 
Inc* uid pluti mraiUfKen, bilk tod TtladH 

Asd Ihanfh llar«h wln^ mblawliif, tli pliM 

Whoi birds, tr«efl mad floven «pji«mr Id atw rAln 
BKh SpriDi, tli > levon mm cinnot km s'ar 

Oott U>Uxk>0«] t'flcnclrle'ihrlUHdCloU 
Ston. 



Ov ea LaekTSHl * H«n' 



And Um bulla 



Tb«T haT« " l^mlililiiir Ooodi,'' t 



n, pDCkvl bftudkereJiltft. «aUAn 



rhoHdeUiAl iitkairlM- I 



OBBf AmEHTAI. FBAMES, 

GILT AND ROSEWOOD MOULDINGS, 

ArtfMa' Mat«rtal*, Ao. ««.. 
S8 ItffOITTaOLiEH'S' ST. 



Oloihlnf ud rnniisliinff Ooodi, 

BdMt tiuauJtclf iiunicd In Huufutorlu. wt 
*n HiiMtd to rU fowl (unacnti u PUon TO 
Ctm THE TIMU. 

ibfl BBDVlor adv4atan we pivam for flUluf IbeJr 
ij hJ HllifUlorily. 



U in •b* *ut toodt, hf wboltnle or rtuSi, 
Oa Is Lockmod A HcDdrtE'i ru-raineil Clalblu 
Mot*. 
Our KoMe, anlok BftlM ft flnuU FroAU. 

LOOEWOOD * HSnDBH:, i*»BA»#»B» OL B* wB«a 

NO. iTiouTBTBnT SAN ntAHCisoo. daROVER A BAILER S 

iap«ttf,rt I NOISELEBB 

^■» : rtHil; Scwiig HaehiiM 

Jrt wmjuoXmI /or the gaural mm( of a 

Family. 

AU. lU.OBZHa8 WABJUJrTBD. 

SIS ■ 

Osr New BalesrvvM 

lb* Kn BaUdfaw.l. V. nncr MiHHrwtt* 
iillfDnils«rHto,lnt diMrinaUi af cJtfoTBto 

B. S. UOV«. A»m. 



ADVERTISING SUPPDBMBNT. 




OF 



iyTOmiiiS & iOSEIIFlELD, 



THE LITTLE PIONEER, 

An instructive and amasing little Paper for Children, published 

monthly, at $1,25 per annum. 

THE OVERLAND MAP, 

Oontaininffall the Overland Routes from here to the Atlantic States, 
i^ocket edition, $1,25 ; mounted on cloth, $2,50. 

THE MINER'S OWN BOOK, 

Illustrating the various methods of Mining in California. Price 

twenty-five cents. 

THE CALIFORNIA PICTORIAL 

LETTER SHEET, 

We have an assortment of over eighty different kinds. Price twelve 

and a half cents each. 

LARGE LITHOGRAPHS OF CAL. SCENERY. 

The Great To-Semite Falls ; the Great To-Semite Vallev ; the Big 

Trees of Calaveras County ; the New View of San Francisco, 

and all the principal Towns in California. Price $2,50 each. 

WASHOE MAPS. 

De Groot's Map, in Sheets, 50 cents. Sherwood & Dewey's Map, in 

sheets, $1,00. 

JUST PUBLISHED, 

SKETCHES of the WASHOE SILVER MINES 

Descriptive of the soil, climate, and mineral resources. 

Price twenty-five cents each. 

t^* A liberal discount made to the trade. 
On receipt of the price specified above, we will forward all or any 
one of our publications post-paid to any part of this State. 

Address HUTCHINGS & EOSENFIELD, 

Sak Fbakoisoo. 



TBHB HTDRAUUC PRESS, North San Juan, Nevada Co., i< pub- 
lished everj Satardaj morning bj Messrs. AVERT k WATERS. Send in jonr sub- 
scriptions 



ADVERTISING SUPPLEBIENT, 



SEWING KEACmNES, 



A"^ 



the SMi adapled to aO Otneral Sewing oT 
aajr kind is ate . m erldeBoe of which, bardlj 
mre vaed by Tallon. 

THBT WULiIi 8BW 



Tke Idgktest ft letyiest Fabrics 

WITH EQUAL FACILITY, 

MaUnf a iCiteh alike oo hcth sldcf, or not, at the 
dIaeretioB of the operator. The> are never out of 
•rder, aod are more simple In oonttmctlon than any 
other deacripUon. 

At the Orcat Parle Kxhlbltlon« In competition with 
mH other machined—Wheeler k WUson'e and Ororer 
k Bakcr^ iDcloded— they took the 



And the pateste were porchaaed by the French Got- 



^■..■^.it: aod at rarioos Bute Fain they hare ta- 
ken the FIRST FRIMIUM . 

OorFtaUly Machines are now selllnf at a little 
more than one haif the price they hare hitherto been 
held at, and are as superior for family ose as onr 
~ ird Is to all others. Hemmers attached. 

J. H. DIJIVIIEIX, Avent, 

151 BaaromtKida St., San Franctseo. 



un>:- 



MELODEON8, 



MUSICAL INSTKUMENTS 

All lOSKil IBCUniSL 




ROMAN YIOUN k GUITAB STRINGS. 



lUtUIBRB niD iD UPAim. 



(Hd A$lrumeitt$ taken tn Exehtmge. 



FRANKLIN 

PRINTING OFFICE, 



111 ^VTasliliivtoii 8t^ 



BETWEEN SAM80MB AND BATTERY 8T8., 



OpponU the Poet Ogiee^ 



SAN FRANCISCO. 



CircalarSi Bill Heads, Catalogues, Checks, 
Law Blanks, Tickets, Posters, Bills of Fare, 
Cards, Labels, &c., neatly and promptly 
executed, on the most reasonable terms. 

FRANK EASTMAN, 

PMjpriotoir* 

JONAS O. CLABK * GO^ 

Importers and Mannlhotoren of 

FUiltttTDIIE 



% 



Of erery deseription, 



3Vo. xas 




WASHINQTON ST., 



SAN FRANCISCO. 



49 and n FOUBTH STREET, 

Between J^K 8U., Saeramenio, 



Hnnter Street, between Main and Leree 
Stockton ; and First Street, San Jose. 



ADVERTISING SUPPLEMENT. 






r. 




WORTH OF 



A.T RETA-IIi- 




ORBAT REDUCTION IN PRICES. 



Groods sold at this Establishment, are superior to any offered 
in this Country, afi regards their beauty, shape and durability. 
9S^ To SATE TVUKB and MONEIT, Oo to-^^ 

HOLOOMBE BRO'S, 



Down town Store, — 89 and 100 Commercial Street, 
Up 'i (( Corner Washington and Kearny Sts. 



SAN FRANCISCO. 



H. ADOLPHUS' 
Anti-Bheumatic 



AND 



Health Bestorative, 



IS UNSURPASSED rOB THE CURB OF 



RHEUMATISM, GOUT, 



AND CHRONIC DISEASES. 



For Sale by 



ADOLPHUS A JUIVO£RHA1«, 

46 MONTGOMSBT ST., three doorg from Bush, 

And by all the Druggists in the City. 

AoiHTS— BEDINGTON ft CO., Clay Street, 

MORRILL, corner Washington ft Battery. 



FBEE]£AN & SIMPSON, 

Magnolia Whiskey. 



THE UNDERSIGNED IS RECEIVING THIS 
standard brand of fine Whisky, direct from 
Messrs. Freeman & Simpson, Proprietors of the 
Phoenix Distillery, Schuylkill River, and offers it 
for sale in barrels and half barrels, in lots to suit. 
The genuine. 

OLD MAGNOLIA WHISEET, 

Has Freeman & Simpson's name in f^l on esich 
package, and also a card affixed with a lithograph- 
ed engraving of their Distillery. 

As a matter of interest to the trade and public, 
in showing the immense capital employed and the 
extent of tne manu factu re of Preeman & Simp- 
son's Magnolia 'Wlliskey, the following com- 
parative table is appended, taken from a work 
entitled " Philadelphia and its Manufactures :" 

"The centre of the Whiskey Manufacture U 
probably Cincinnati, Ohio ; for ,we notice that in 
1856, there were distilled in that City and vicinity, 
19,'^60,245 gallons of proof Wniskoy, consumine, if 
we allow one bushel of corn to every three gallons 
of spirits, 6,420,088 bushels of corn.^' 

" In Philadelphia there are but five concerns en- 
gaged in distilling Whiskey, fh>m rye, corn. Ire. — 
They have a capital employed of nearly $500,000, 
and in 1S57, produced 2^100,000 gallons. The Dis- 
tillery of Freeman & Simpson, on the Schuylkill 
River,' having a capacity of 400 barrels per 
week, of fine Whiskey alone, is one of the largest 
and most complete in the country, for the distilla- 
tion of Fine Whiskey, to which they confine 
themselves almost exclusively. 

9. C. SHAVT, 

138 Front Street, San Francisco .^ 



■KKCHANT. 



PRIZE POEM. 

Hj ItaidcD UoBe ber magic Ijre 

Has Btrung agBJn, tbat all 
Maj list with pleasure to the gtraini 

She liDgB of QUINCT HALL- 
The fonnt of Helicon would dry. 

ADd Waaboe's rivers f«!t, 
Were all tbe waters qbfiI for ink 

Describing QUINCY HALL. 
Tbe greslest Clolbing Uart on earth 

Where mortals all sbould call, 
Be it remembered has been foand 

To be our QUINCY HALL. 
Davis k Bowers, Proprietors, 

Can fit the abort and tail, 
The &,t and lean, the rich and poor, 

Who go to QtiaXY HALL. 
No forlune will these people take. 

Whether 'tis great or small, 
For thej hsTe all thatlhcf can do 

Each day at QDl.NCY HALL. 
So all the need; persona sbould 

With all the wealth]' call, 
As well as eTerrbody else. 

And bnj at ^UlNCT HALL. 
Thr Largat Clothing Emporium bn the I'adfit Coait, 

S 149 1 151 WasMngton SL, Hoatgomery Block, 
aAN FRANCISCO. 



J3r 



STENCIL PLATES 



I FRENCH ACADEMY 

LADIES i avcmsitss, 

Comer or Jacluon and Isason Sts., \ *AILOK. 
BAB FRAMCJ8CO. j 

PBor. J. MIUrKLLE, t'rmni,.,l. \ 

WM. SHERMAN & CO., 

Wh'A'inlr and Selail DeaUr, ,n \ 



GENTS' FURNISHING GOODS, J ' 

' JStBtheut c«r. CtwMerciil k SaiMMf Sts.)] ",: 



91. Hkhoiu B.M. . Ma raiasi«53. 

If joa AJ>VBBTISB, ron'll find 
That ron will ■ieT«r ran behind. 



— >_ 



ago. 

THOniAS TENHENT, 
Hathematioal and Nantiosl Instmment Maker, | 

SION or THC nOODBN sailoe, 

B±.TIXBY ST., oppoolta tha Onrtom Hoom, 

8A» rSASCJSCO. 

FmST PBEMIUM AGAIN I 

BBIHOJ TBB 
RECEIVED 

AGAINST ALL COMPETITORS, j 




iQidoUkn aadprov^ 



R.H.VANCE, 

Comer Hont^fomer; and Sacramento Sts,, 

BAN FRANCISCO, 



BEST AUBB0TIPB8 AND PKOTOORAPRa, II 



ly pklroni 
AT OBS1A.TI.T BSDUOSID FBIOBB, 



InatTuoUonB KlTan in the Art, and Btook Aimliliad. 
|D| onr («).0UO worlli of Cameru, Glui. PUM, Cun inil 
li an Ike wlj, I iball herwRar dlipnie o( Uwni il iIhhiI 



EASTMAN & LOOMI8 



151 CLAY STREET, over Oolden Era Offloe, 
SAN FRANCISCO. 



liAlTBENCi: * IIOVSEWORTH, 

OPTICIANS, 

4.RU.I.V i>>]ii>»|l77 Clay Bt, between Uontgomer; and Kearny, 




If 7on ADVUBTian, Toa'U find 
That Ton will narec run behind. 



ADVERTISING SUPPLEMENT. 



E 



^ 



THE 

umBai ncuAsns iiiaiii 



-: roR :- 



IIIR RESTOIUM, 

UtiqtMtUoHdbl^ pro9« 4ttob4aU thepropri- 
0lorcia4m», 

rrVUE RI180N WHY, li, h natovM the natonl ool«r, 
X bf aalBra'a own prnuM, fenBAnendy, after th« Hair 
bcconiM grmr ; rapplie* Ui« naiaml Plulda, and Uim maftM 
• now M BILD BEADS ; tsidotm all DaDdraff, lichlojr : 
M Paia ftwD Ike Scalp ; qateu aad tones ap Um aerrce, ' 
%ad asTM all Nerroua HeadMhe, and may be reUed apon 
to com all DISEASES of the SCALP AND HAIR; k i 
will «top and keep h from blUof eff; nakaa kMA, gloa^, 
haaltkj uul beaoiUbl. 

riiici|d iefot, 13» SaoiMto 8t, 8ii ha^ 

When ipediBeaa of hi power eaa be eeea. 

N. HTLIiS, General A^H. 



L _ 



HODGE ft WOOD, 

IIPORTIHG SnTIOII[R$ 

And Wholsssls Dssltn In 

BLANK BOOKS 



un 



Oheap Publications, 

U4 and U6 OLAT 8TSEBT, 



a-A-XT VR.ikXTaxaoo. 



E 



TIET srtlds pcrtalnlot to osr trsds 
ljrMikaii4,ssdsoMsttb«?«f7 lowsst 



If • wo«M partlcsiarlj ssB lbs 
try Dtsltfs to ow 



of 
of 



OBDSBa raOK THS OOUVTB7 
irrruLLT ■oucitbo. 



Yellow Dock ft Iodide of Potass 

Is PREPARED fk^m tb« finest red Jamaica Sar- 
sapariUa aad English Iodide of Potasa — remark- 
able as a RESTORATIVE and PURIFIER OF THE 
BLOOD. It cleanses the system of all morbid and 
Impure matter,— remoyes Pimples, Bolls and Erup- 
tions from the skin,— cures Rheumatism and Pains 
of all kinds All who can afford should use it, as it 
tends to gire them strength, and prolongs life. 
Sold by Druggists generally, at $1 per bottle. 

B. HATiTt A CO., Froprietora, 

Wholesale Druggists, 113 and 145 Clay Street, 

San Franoisco. 



OBOmOB J. BSOOKS, 



raASK W. BBOOKS. 



GEORGE J. BROOKS & CO^ 

PAPER WAREHOUSE, 

198 Sansome, 

OORKXB OV XnOHAlTT 8TBXXT, 

OAa niA99ll990. 
ImpofUr9 and D^aisn in 

PRIimW, WRAPPIM AM WRITIRe PAPERS 

Of erery description ; also, 



BOOK, BBWS ABO OOLOBBD IBIS. 



B. F. STERETT, 

BIIOXUD JOB PRINTER. 

146 01*7 Bt J near Leidesdorl^ 

SAN FRANCISCO, 



RESPECTFVLLT calls the altentloo of the pub- 
lic to his catabUshmcot. Being well prorlded 
with all the modem Improremeots la presses and 
materials, he can tarn out work at rery short notice 
aod at Tery low rates. 

Interior Merchants, TtslUair the elty, will make a 
groat saTlng by hariog their CARDS, BILL-HEADS, 
FOSTERS, ie., Ac., done here, as the rates are wtry 
little la advaaoe of those la ths ~ 



Orders by ezprsss promptly attended to, sad all 
work gnaraateed to giTe eatlre sstlsDaetloa. 

Floe Basmeled Boslacss Cards, |S per thousand ; 
BIO Heads, |S to $4 ; aad a redoetton of flft per et. 
for each additional thousand. 

il itk* lUi rf Fiykg M tk MM bff Un 



HhesBBibsft 



BTXiSSX, 



Bo F* STEBETT. 



ADVERTISING SUPPLSKKMT. 



TURNER'S 

FOREST WINE BITTERS. 

The Oreatest Remedy of the Age^ 
FOR THE CURB OF 

Dyspepsia^ Uver Complaint, 

H^ealmess of the Stomacli, 

Or any Derangement of the Digestioe Organs. 



THXT REGULATE AND PRIPARE THE STOMACH 
to receive and digest food in a healthy manner, 
giyiitf acUon to the Liver, by removing the secreted BUe, 
allowing the body ita natural strength. " It is very essen- 
tial for persons of every age or condition in life, to be 
careful and keep their Digestive Organs in go«d order. — 
By doing this, they will be proof against any, or all, of 
the prevailing Diseases, iocident to the different Climates, 
no matter what the temperature of the same." These 
Biters are sure to do this in every case. If taken according 
to directions. 

There are thousands of small arteries and avenues in 
the human firame, leading to and depending upon, the 
gastric juices produced by the stomach for the support of 
whole body. If the stomach is diseased, surely it cannot 
do its work. Oonsequenily the body must be fed from 
unprepared and unnatural saliva, sowing corruption 
throughout the whole system. But if the stomach is kept 
In order, the created saliva goes to enrich the blood, giv- 
ing a natural freshness to the countenance, and strength- 
ening the whole frame. 

We desire any and every person using the Bitters, to 
show them to, and ask the opinion of, tihelr confidential 
family Physician, in regard to the merits of the article. 

"Turner's Forest Wine Bitters" 

Are sure to regulate the stomach, ihe main avenue to 

the whole body ; 
Arc sure to counteract BillloUBness, when in a malarious 

climate ; 
Are sura to agpree with the most weakly, as well us the 

nioi^ robnst person ; 
Are Kure to create a good appetite; 
Are very pleasant to the taste as a beverage; 
Are eoouemical and cheap. 

All Travelers should carry these Bitters with them, to 

prevent Biliousness and Fevers, caused by 

changes ot olimate and water. 

Seamen should carry them to prevent Scurvy, Ship 

Fever and the like, when they are deprived ot 

cooling nutritious vegetables. 

All persons of sedentary habits, who cannot rest at 

night, should take them before going to bed, (as a fool 

and disarranged stomach always produces a nervous 

irritation of the muscular glands, causing sleepless 

nights.) They assist the stomach to perform its natural 

powers, allowing the patient to rest with composure. 

They are a very rich, nutritious Wine, formed by the 
addition of nine different kinds of roots, barks and 
herbs, making a very palatable as well as one of the 
most nourishing Bitters in the known world. 

There never has been any article introduced that has 
gained such universal eonftdenee, and been so highly 
applauded by the public, as these Bitters. They have 
been in use about six years, and the sale has Increased 
so much, that it now takes three large buildings, cover- 
ing over nine lots of ground, to do their business. 

For the better protection of the public, (after this 
date, April 15th,) we have for a label, a (splendid and 
very expensive) steel Engraving, with tne portrait of 
each member of ottr firm, making a perfect guarantee 
against counterfeits or imitations ot tne genuine article. 
N. B.— Heiwift«r our FOREST WIKfi BITTERS 
will be manufactured Aram White Wine, which makes a 
decided improvement, unequaled by any other Bitters in 
the United SUtes. 

Sold wholesale, by 

TURXEB BROTHERS, 
Comer Washins[ton and Franklin streets, N. Y. 
Itiagara street, Buffklo, N. T. 
Comer Broadway and Front sU., Ban Franeiseo, Cal. 
And for Sale by Merchants and Dmggista everywhere. 



TUBunEBS' orarom i¥ii«e. 



This article is prepared ttompwre White and Jamaica 
Ginger Root, In such a manner as to form the best and 
most pleasant tonic ever Introduced ; and Is an invalua- 
ble remedy for Dyspepsia, Indigestion, and for all diseases 
where a gentle stimulant Is required, to bring the system 
Into healthy action. 

One MiUion O9II011S9 to Barrels 
and CaseSy SoldAnnnaUy, 

Throughout the world, thereby proving its uneqtutUd asd 
ttnriwtled merits. It has received the approbation of 
the edical faculty throughout the United States, aad 
wherever known. 

We caution all consumers of 6IK0ER WINK to exam 
ine the label, as none are genuine except such as have be 
them our engraved portraits in a circle, surronndrd ti; 
the foUowing superscriptions: *' TURNERS* GIKGE& 
WINE, prepared by Turner Brothers, New-Tork ; Buffalo. 
New- York ; and San Francisco, California. 



TURNERS* 

IITii lISPiERIT STMP 

Manufactured firom pure Juice of Raspberries, and t» 
equal to any article of the kind heretofore introduced. 



Some of the reasons why TURNER BR0THSR8 mane- 
factured articles, Symps, Oinger Wine, Cordjals, Bitt<M9, 
Ac, are better than any others In the United 



First — ^We have three of the largest mannfactorie* el 
the kind in the world. 

One at JVeiv ITork; 
One at BnflTalo, New ¥ort&* 
And the 8d at San Francftsca, Cai^ 

Built specially for our business in the most c«>inpletp 
manner In every particular. 

Secondly— We can and do have every advaatagv that 
mon(^ pan purchase or eonvenlence could faeiUtaie. 

Our Ooods are manufectured f^om the very beet mat^ 
rials— with the utmost care, and are the leading article* 
of the kind throughout every State In the Un1on« Ohina, 
Sandwich Islands, and including almost every plae« wherr 
the Anglo Saxon race are represented. 

We have constantly on band and for sale In qoantlttf* 
to suit :— 



Ginger Wine, 
Blackberry Brandy, 
Cherry Brandv, 
Wormwood Oordlal» 
Cherry Cordial, 
Raspberry Syrup, 
Lemon ^rap, 



Forest Wlae Bitter*. 
SarsaparlUa Soda, 
Wormwood Bitters, 
▼egeUble Bitters, 
Stomach Bittere, 
Stoughton Bitters. 
Spice Bitten, 



Extract Raspberry Syrap, Orgeat Syrup, 
Gum Syrup, Anisette, 

Coloring, Cnracoa, 

Abeynthe, Kersbenwaseer, 

Anisado, yermouth. 

Aromatic 8ehnappe« JSMenoe of Uemon, 

Bei^noe of Jamaica Ginger, Essence of P«|9ermla% 
Rosenchieflli Bitters, Ac. 

TURNER BRO'8, 

Coraer of Front k Broadway St&y 

SAN FRANCISCO, OAL. 



J?"'«l 



i